Ummagumma was Pink Floyd at their most unhinged.

Yes. Even by Floyd standards — a band that had already released “A Saucerful of Secrets” and “Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun” — this album felt like a dare. Half live, half studio, with the studio side being four solo experiments from each band member. No collaboration. No safety net.

The results are weird. Roger Waters recorded a ticking clock and some ambient nonsense. Richard Wright made a piece with random piano and a woman laughing. Nick Mason played drums with a delay pedal. David Gilmour sang about a giant crab. Then there’s “Several Species…” — Gilmour making animal noises at double speed. It’s not a cohesive album. It’s four guys showing off how strange they could be, alone, in a studio.

That’s why it felt experimental. Not because it was technically groundbreaking (though some of it was), but because they deliberately broke the band rule. No harmonies. No shared riffs. Just pure, unfiltered weirdness. It worked as a statement: “We can do anything, and we will.”

Most bands would have scrapped that session. Floyd released it as a double album. That takes guts. Or a certain kind of confidence. Probably both.