Showing posts with label madcap laughs yahoo group. Show all posts
Showing posts with label madcap laughs yahoo group. Show all posts
Friday, February 5, 2010
Record Collector-April '88: Syd article by Mark Patriss
Mark Jones from the mapcaplaughs yahoo group at: http://launch.groups.yahoo.com/group/madcapslaughing/ has been scanning Syd Barrett articles from Record Collector Magazine. Today, we re-post an article pertaining to Syd Barrett & the early Floyd by Mark Patress from April 1988...
Friday, January 29, 2010
Syd Barrett interview - Melody Maker, Mar 27 1971, Michael Watts
Kiloh Rokysyd over at the madcap laughs yahoo group's Barrett Blog here: http://www.sydbarrettpinkfloyd.com/2010/01/syd-barrett-interview-melody-maker-mar.html has re-posted this article from Melody Maker, Mar 27 1971 with Michael Watts interviewing Syd Barrett. Good stuff here! Especially the Slade reference!
Syd Barrett interview - Melody Maker, Mar 27 1971, Michael Watts
Syd Barrett came up to London last week and talked in the office of his music publisher, his first press interview for about a year. His hair is cut very short now, almost like a skinhead. Symbolic? Of what, then? He is very aware of what is going on around him, but his conversation is often obscure; it doesn't always progress in linear fashion. He is painfully conscious of his indeterminate role in the music world: 'I've never really proved myself wrong. I really need to prove myself right,' he says.
Maybe he has it all figured. As he says in 'Octopus,' 'the madcap laughed at the man on the border.'
Watts: What have you been doing since you left The Floyd, apart from making your two albums?
Syd: Well, I'm a painter, I was trained as a painter...I seem to have spent a little less time painting than I might've done...you know, it might have been a tremendous release getting absorbed in painting. Any way, I've been sitting about and writing. The fine arts thing at college was always too much for me to think about. What I was more involved in was being successful at arts school. But it didn't transcend the feeling of playing at UFO and those sort of places with the lights and that, the fact that the group was getting bigger and bigger.
I've been at home in Cambridge with my mother. I've got lots of, well, children in a sense. My uncle...I've been getting used to a family existence, generally. Pretty unexciting. I work in a cellar, down in a cellar.
Watts: What would you sooner be a painter or a musician?
Syd: Well, I think of me being a painter eventually.
Watts: Do you see the last two years as a process of getting yourself together again?
Syd: No. Perhaps it has something to do with what I felt could be better as regards music, as far as my job goes generally, because I did find I needed a job. I wanted to do a job. I never admitted it because I'm a person who doesn't admit it
Watts: There were stories you were going to go back to college, or get a job in a factory.
Syd: Well, of course, living in Cambridge I have to find something to do. I suppose I could've done a job. I haven't been doing any work. I'm not really used to doing quick jobs and then stopping, but I'm sure it would be possible.
Watts: Tell me about The Floyd how did they start?
Syd: Roger Waters is older than I am. He was at the architecture school in London. I was studying at Cambridge I think it was before I had set up at Camberwell (art college). I was really moving backwards and forwards to London. I was living in Highgate with him, we shared a place there, and got a van and spent a lot of our grant on pubs and that sort of thing. We were playing Stones numbers. I suppose we were interested in playing guitars I picked up playing guitar quite quickly...I didn't play much in Cambridge because I was from the art school, you know. But I was soon playing on the professional scene and began to write from there.
Watts: Your writing has always been concerned purely with songs rather than long instrumental pieces like the rest of The Floyd, hasn't it?
Syd: Their choice of material was always very much to do with what they were thinking as architecture students. Rather unexciting people, I would've thought, primarily. I mean, anybody walking into an art school like that would've been tricked maybe they were working their entry into an art school.
But the choice of material was restricted, I suppose, by the fact that both Roger and I wrote different things. We wrote our own songs, played our own music. They were older, by about two years, I think. I was 18 or 19. I don't know that there was really much conflict, except that perhaps the way we started to play wasn't as impressive as it was to us, even, wasn't as full of impact as it might've been. I mean, it was done very well, rather than considerably exciting. One thinks of it all as a dream.
Watts: Did you like what they were doing the fact that the music was gradually moving away from songs like 'See Emily Play'?
Syd: Singles are always simple...all the equipment was battered and worn all the stuff we started out with was our own, the guitars were our own property. The electronic noises were probably necessary. They were very exciting. That's all really. The whole thing at the time was playing on stage.
Watts: Was it only you who wanted to make singles?
Syd: It was probably me alone, I think. Obviously, being a pop group one wanted to have singles. I think 'Emily' was fourth in the hits.
Watts: Why did you leave them?
Syd: It wasn't really a war. I suppose it was really just a matter of being a little offhand about things. We didn't feel there was one thing which was gonna make the decision at the minute. I mean, we did split up, and there was a lot of trouble. I don't think the Pink Floyd had any trouble, but I had an awful scene, probably self-inflicted, having a mini and going all over England and things. Still...
Watts: Do you think the glamour went to your head at all?
Syd: I don't know. Perhaps you could see it as something went to one's head, but I don't know that it was relevant.
Watts: There were stories you had left because you had been freaked out by acid trips.
Syd: Well, I don't know, it don't seem to have much to do with the job. I only know the thing of playing, of being a musician, was very exciting. Obviously, one was better off with a silver guitar with mirrors and things all over it than people who ended up on the floor or anywhere else in London.
The general concept, I didn't feel so conscious of it as perhaps I should. I mean, one's position as a member of London's young people's, I dunno what you'd call it underground wasn't it, wasn't necessarily realised and felt, I don't think, especially from the point of view of groups.
I remember at UFO one week one group, then another week another group, going in and out, making that set-up, and I didn't think it was as active as it could've been. I was really surprised that UFO finished. I only read last week that itUs not finished. Joe Boyd did all the work on it and I was really amazed when he left. What we were doing was a microcosm of the whole sort of philosophy and it tended to be a little bit cheap. The fact that the show had to be put together; the fact that we weren't living in luxurious places with luxurious things around us. I think I would always advocate that sort of thing the luxurious life. It's probably because I don't do much work.
Watts: Were you not at all involved in acid, then, during its heyday among rock bands?
Syd: No. It was all, I suppose, related to living in London. I was lucky enough...I've always thought of going back to a place where you can drink tea and sit on the carpet. I've been fortunate enough to do that. All that time...you've just reminded me of it. I thought it was good fun. I thought The Soft Machine were good fun. They were playing on 'Madcap,' except for Kevin Ayers.
Watts: Are you trying to create a mood in your songs, rather than tell a story?
Syd: Yes, very much. It would be terrific to do much more mood stuff. They're very pure, you know, the words...I feel I'm jabbering. I really think the whole thing is based on me being a guitarist and having done the last thing about two or three years ago in a group around England and Europe and The States, and then coming back and hardly having done anything, so I don't really know what to say. I feel, perhaps, I could be claimed as being redundant almost. I don't feel active, and that my public conscience is fully satisfied.
Watts: Don't you think that people still remember you?
Syd: Yes, I should think so.
Watts: Then why don't you get some musicians, go on the road and do some gigs?
Syd: I feel though the record would still be the thing to do. And touring and playing might make that impossible to do.
Watts: Don't you fancy playing live again after two years?
Syd: Yes, very much.
Watts: What's the hang-up then? Is it getting the right musicians around you?
Syd: Yeah.
Watts: What would be of primary importance whether they were brilliant musicians or whether you could get on with them?
Syd: I'm afraid I think I'd have to get on with them. They'd have to be good musicians. I think they'd be difficult to find. They'd have to be lively.
Watts: Would you say, therefore, you were a difficult person to get on with?
Syd: No. Probably my own impatience is the only thing, because it has to be very easy. You can play guitar in your canteen, you know, your hair might be longer, but there's a lot more to playing than travelling around universities and things.
Watts: Why don't you go out on your own playing acoustic? I think you might be very successful.
Syd: Yeah...that's nice. Well, I've only got an electric. I've got a black Fender which needs replacing. I haven't got any blue jeans...I really prefer electric music.
Watts: What records do you listen to?
Syd: Well, I haven't bought a lot. I've got things like Ma Rainey recently. Terrific, really fantastic.
Watts: Are you going into the blues, then, in your writing?
Syd: I suppose so. Different groups do different things...one feels that Slade would be an interesting thing to hear, you know.
Watts: Will there be a third solo album?
Syd: Yeah. I've got some songs in the studio, still. And I've got a couple of tapes. It should be 12 singles, and jolly good singles. I think I shall be able to produce this one myself. I think it was always easier to do that.
Syd Barrett interview - Melody Maker, Mar 27 1971, Michael Watts
Syd Barrett came up to London last week and talked in the office of his music publisher, his first press interview for about a year. His hair is cut very short now, almost like a skinhead. Symbolic? Of what, then? He is very aware of what is going on around him, but his conversation is often obscure; it doesn't always progress in linear fashion. He is painfully conscious of his indeterminate role in the music world: 'I've never really proved myself wrong. I really need to prove myself right,' he says.
Maybe he has it all figured. As he says in 'Octopus,' 'the madcap laughed at the man on the border.'
Watts: What have you been doing since you left The Floyd, apart from making your two albums?
Syd: Well, I'm a painter, I was trained as a painter...I seem to have spent a little less time painting than I might've done...you know, it might have been a tremendous release getting absorbed in painting. Any way, I've been sitting about and writing. The fine arts thing at college was always too much for me to think about. What I was more involved in was being successful at arts school. But it didn't transcend the feeling of playing at UFO and those sort of places with the lights and that, the fact that the group was getting bigger and bigger.
I've been at home in Cambridge with my mother. I've got lots of, well, children in a sense. My uncle...I've been getting used to a family existence, generally. Pretty unexciting. I work in a cellar, down in a cellar.
Watts: What would you sooner be a painter or a musician?
Syd: Well, I think of me being a painter eventually.
Watts: Do you see the last two years as a process of getting yourself together again?
Syd: No. Perhaps it has something to do with what I felt could be better as regards music, as far as my job goes generally, because I did find I needed a job. I wanted to do a job. I never admitted it because I'm a person who doesn't admit it
Watts: There were stories you were going to go back to college, or get a job in a factory.
Syd: Well, of course, living in Cambridge I have to find something to do. I suppose I could've done a job. I haven't been doing any work. I'm not really used to doing quick jobs and then stopping, but I'm sure it would be possible.
Watts: Tell me about The Floyd how did they start?
Syd: Roger Waters is older than I am. He was at the architecture school in London. I was studying at Cambridge I think it was before I had set up at Camberwell (art college). I was really moving backwards and forwards to London. I was living in Highgate with him, we shared a place there, and got a van and spent a lot of our grant on pubs and that sort of thing. We were playing Stones numbers. I suppose we were interested in playing guitars I picked up playing guitar quite quickly...I didn't play much in Cambridge because I was from the art school, you know. But I was soon playing on the professional scene and began to write from there.
Watts: Your writing has always been concerned purely with songs rather than long instrumental pieces like the rest of The Floyd, hasn't it?
Syd: Their choice of material was always very much to do with what they were thinking as architecture students. Rather unexciting people, I would've thought, primarily. I mean, anybody walking into an art school like that would've been tricked maybe they were working their entry into an art school.
But the choice of material was restricted, I suppose, by the fact that both Roger and I wrote different things. We wrote our own songs, played our own music. They were older, by about two years, I think. I was 18 or 19. I don't know that there was really much conflict, except that perhaps the way we started to play wasn't as impressive as it was to us, even, wasn't as full of impact as it might've been. I mean, it was done very well, rather than considerably exciting. One thinks of it all as a dream.
Watts: Did you like what they were doing the fact that the music was gradually moving away from songs like 'See Emily Play'?
Syd: Singles are always simple...all the equipment was battered and worn all the stuff we started out with was our own, the guitars were our own property. The electronic noises were probably necessary. They were very exciting. That's all really. The whole thing at the time was playing on stage.
Watts: Was it only you who wanted to make singles?
Syd: It was probably me alone, I think. Obviously, being a pop group one wanted to have singles. I think 'Emily' was fourth in the hits.
Watts: Why did you leave them?
Syd: It wasn't really a war. I suppose it was really just a matter of being a little offhand about things. We didn't feel there was one thing which was gonna make the decision at the minute. I mean, we did split up, and there was a lot of trouble. I don't think the Pink Floyd had any trouble, but I had an awful scene, probably self-inflicted, having a mini and going all over England and things. Still...
Watts: Do you think the glamour went to your head at all?
Syd: I don't know. Perhaps you could see it as something went to one's head, but I don't know that it was relevant.
Watts: There were stories you had left because you had been freaked out by acid trips.
Syd: Well, I don't know, it don't seem to have much to do with the job. I only know the thing of playing, of being a musician, was very exciting. Obviously, one was better off with a silver guitar with mirrors and things all over it than people who ended up on the floor or anywhere else in London.
The general concept, I didn't feel so conscious of it as perhaps I should. I mean, one's position as a member of London's young people's, I dunno what you'd call it underground wasn't it, wasn't necessarily realised and felt, I don't think, especially from the point of view of groups.
I remember at UFO one week one group, then another week another group, going in and out, making that set-up, and I didn't think it was as active as it could've been. I was really surprised that UFO finished. I only read last week that itUs not finished. Joe Boyd did all the work on it and I was really amazed when he left. What we were doing was a microcosm of the whole sort of philosophy and it tended to be a little bit cheap. The fact that the show had to be put together; the fact that we weren't living in luxurious places with luxurious things around us. I think I would always advocate that sort of thing the luxurious life. It's probably because I don't do much work.
Watts: Were you not at all involved in acid, then, during its heyday among rock bands?
Syd: No. It was all, I suppose, related to living in London. I was lucky enough...I've always thought of going back to a place where you can drink tea and sit on the carpet. I've been fortunate enough to do that. All that time...you've just reminded me of it. I thought it was good fun. I thought The Soft Machine were good fun. They were playing on 'Madcap,' except for Kevin Ayers.
Watts: Are you trying to create a mood in your songs, rather than tell a story?
Syd: Yes, very much. It would be terrific to do much more mood stuff. They're very pure, you know, the words...I feel I'm jabbering. I really think the whole thing is based on me being a guitarist and having done the last thing about two or three years ago in a group around England and Europe and The States, and then coming back and hardly having done anything, so I don't really know what to say. I feel, perhaps, I could be claimed as being redundant almost. I don't feel active, and that my public conscience is fully satisfied.
Watts: Don't you think that people still remember you?
Syd: Yes, I should think so.
Watts: Then why don't you get some musicians, go on the road and do some gigs?
Syd: I feel though the record would still be the thing to do. And touring and playing might make that impossible to do.
Watts: Don't you fancy playing live again after two years?
Syd: Yes, very much.
Watts: What's the hang-up then? Is it getting the right musicians around you?
Syd: Yeah.
Watts: What would be of primary importance whether they were brilliant musicians or whether you could get on with them?
Syd: I'm afraid I think I'd have to get on with them. They'd have to be good musicians. I think they'd be difficult to find. They'd have to be lively.
Watts: Would you say, therefore, you were a difficult person to get on with?
Syd: No. Probably my own impatience is the only thing, because it has to be very easy. You can play guitar in your canteen, you know, your hair might be longer, but there's a lot more to playing than travelling around universities and things.
Watts: Why don't you go out on your own playing acoustic? I think you might be very successful.
Syd: Yeah...that's nice. Well, I've only got an electric. I've got a black Fender which needs replacing. I haven't got any blue jeans...I really prefer electric music.
Watts: What records do you listen to?
Syd: Well, I haven't bought a lot. I've got things like Ma Rainey recently. Terrific, really fantastic.
Watts: Are you going into the blues, then, in your writing?
Syd: I suppose so. Different groups do different things...one feels that Slade would be an interesting thing to hear, you know.
Watts: Will there be a third solo album?
Syd: Yeah. I've got some songs in the studio, still. And I've got a couple of tapes. It should be 12 singles, and jolly good singles. I think I shall be able to produce this one myself. I think it was always easier to do that.
Syd Barrett Article - You Shone Like the Sun (from The Observer Oct 2002)
Kiloh Rokysyd over at the madcap laughs yahoo group's Barrett Blog here: http://www.sydbarrettpinkfloyd.com/2010/01/syd-barrett-article-you-shone-like-sun.html has re-posted this article from Sunday October 6, 2002's The Observer. Unfortunately, he didn't credit who the the original author at The Observer was, but here it is...
You Shone Like the Sun - Sunday October 6, 2002, The Observer
Syd Barrett was the prodigiously talented founder of Pink Floyd, but after just two years at the centre of the 60s psychedelic scene, he suffered a massive breakdown and has lived as a recluse ever since. In this extract from his candid new book, Tim Willis tracks him down and pieces together the story of rock's lost icon.
Remember when you were young, You shone like the sun. Shine on you crazy diamond. Now there's a look in your eyes, Like black holes in the sky. Shine on you crazy diamond.
Pink Floyd's tribute to Syd Barrett on Wish You Were Here, 1975
The received wisdom is that you don't disturb him.The last interview he gave was in 1971, and from then until now, there are only about 20 recorded encounters of any kind. His family says it upsets him to discuss the days when he was the spirit of psychedelia, beautiful Syd Barrett, the leader of Pink Floyd. He doesn't recognise himself as the shambling visionary who, during an extended nervous breakdown exacerbated by his drug intake, made two solos LPs, Madcap and Barrett , which are as eternally eloquent as Van Gogh's cornfields. He doesn't answer to his 60s nickname now. He's called Roger Barrett, as he was born in 1946.
On a blistering hot day, pacing the cracked tarmac pavement in this suburban Cambridge street, I wonder if I can act honourably by him. When the DJ Nicky Horne doorstepped him in the 80s, Barrett said, 'Syd can't talk to you now.' Perhaps, in his own way, he was telling the truth. But I could talk to him as Roger; ask him if he was still painting, as reported. I could pass on regards from friends he knew before he became Syd.
Two housewives in the street say he ignores their 'Good mornings' when he goes out to buy his Daily Mail and changing brands of fags. Apart from his sister, they don't think he has any visitors - not even workmen. But they don't see why I shouldn't take my chances. It's been a few years since backpackers camped by his gate. 'He didn't open the door for them, and he probably won't for you.'
So I walk up the concrete path of his grey pebble-dashed semi, try the bell and discover that it's disconnected. At the front of the house, all the curtains are open. The side passage is closed to prying eyes by a high gate. I knock on the front door and, after a minute or two, look through the downstairs bay window. Where you might expect a television and a three-piece suite, Barrett has constructed a bare, white-walled workshop. Pushed against the window is a tattered pink sofa. On the hardboard tops, toolboxes are neatly stacked, flexes coiled, pens put away in a white mug.
Then, a sound in the hall. Has he come in from the back garden? Perhaps it needs mowing, like the front lawn - although, judging by the mound of weeds by the path, he's been tidying the beds today.
I knock again, and hear three heavy steps. The door flies open and he's standing there. He's stark naked except for a small, tight pair of bright-blue Y-fronts; bouncing, like the books say he always did, on the balls of his feet.
He bars the doorway with one hand on the jamb, the other on the catch. His resemblance to Aleister Crowley in his Cefalu period is uncanny; his stare about as welcoming...
In 1988, the News of the World quoted the writer Jonathan Meades who, 20 years before had visited a South Kensington flat that Barrett shared with a bright, druggie clique from his home town of Cambridge. 'This rather weird, exotic and mildly famous creature was living in this flat with these people who to some extent were pimping off him, both professionally and privately,' said Meades. 'There was this terrible noise. It sounded like the heating pipes shaking. I said, "What's that?" and [they] sort of giggled and said, "That's Syd having a bad trip. We put him in the linen cupboard."'
It's a common motif in the Barrett legend: the genius mistreated, forced to endure unspeakable mental anguish for the fun of his fairweather friends. But it's not necessarily true. There are some terrible tales from that flat in Egerton Court. But on this occasion, as flatmate Aubrey 'Po' Powell remembers it, 'Pete Townshend used to come there, and Mick and Marianne. It was an incredibly cool scene. Jonty Meades was a hanger-on, a straight cat just out of school. I'm sure we told him that version of events - but only to wind him up.'
Similarly, Barrett's lover and flatmate at the time, Lindsay Corner, denies the stories that he locked her in her room for three days, feeding her biscuits under the door, then smashed a guitar over her head. This time, however, three other residents swear he did: 'I remember pulling Syd off her,' says Po. And that's the trouble with the whole Barrett business. There are witness accounts by people who weren't there, those who were there disagree - half of them, being as totally off their faces as Barrett was, must have a question mark over their evidence. If you can remember the 60s, as they say...
By October 1966, Barrett was already well on the way to stardom. Pink Floyd supported the Soft Machine's experimental jazz-rock at the IT magazine launch party, a 2,000-strong happening in the disused Roundhouse theatre, featuring acid aplenty, Marianne Faithfull dressed as a nun in a pussy-pelmet, and Paul McCartney disguised as an Arab. There was a giant jelly and a Pop Art-painted Cadillac, a mini-cinema and a performance piece by Yoko Ono.
'All apparently very psychedelic,' sniffed The Sunday Times of the Floyd, thus encouraging hundreds of difficult teenagers to check out their new residency at the All Saints Hall in Ladbroke Grove.
Now once- or twice-weekly, the shows took time to take off. Barrett's friend Juliet Wright remembers an occasion when there were so few punters that Barrett movingly recited Hamlet's 'To be or not to be' soliloquy onstage. But soon ravers were crossing London for the lights and the weirdness, titillated by music-press adverts using Timothy Leary's phrase of 'Turn on, Tune in, Drop out'. With Barrett's nursery-rhyme freak-outs lasting 40 minutes each, the Floyd become known as Britain's first 'psychedelic' band.
Apart from playing a packed live schedule, the Floyd were in pursuit of a recording contract, rehearsing and making rough demos. Floyd gig promoter Joe Boyd, who had production experience, took them into a studio in late January. Barrett had written 'Arnold Layne' by then, and perfected the relentless riff of 'Interstellar Overdrive'. EMI - the same label as the Beatles - signed them up on the basis of these demos, nominating 'Arnold' as the first single. Barrett was delighted. 'We want to be pop stars,' he said, gladly grinning for cheesy publicity shots of the band high-kicking on the street. However, by the beginning of April, he was already railing in the music papers against record-company executives who were pressing him for more commercial material.
He was even less cheery by the end of the month. Six weeks before, 'Arnold Layne' had been released. This jolly tale of Barrett's childhood pal and later Pink Floyd member Roger Waters's mum's washing-line raider was helped up the charts by a ban from Radio London, due to its lyrics about transvestism. But Barrett had grown to hate playing note-perfect, three-minute renditions on stage. On 22 April it reached number 20, its highest position. On 29 April, Barrett was still playing it, at Joe Boyd's UFO club at dawn and on a TV show in Holland that evening. The band then drove back to London to headline at 3am in Britain's biggest happening ever, the '14 Hour Technicolor Dream' at the cavernous Alexandra Palace.
It was a druggy affair. Floyd's co-manager Peter Jenner was certainly tripping that night, and Barrett is said to have been. John Lennon, Brian Jones and Jimi Hendrix were among those who played to a 10,000-strong audience. There were 40 bands, dancers in strobe shows, a helter-skelter and a noticeboard made of lightbulbs which displayed messages like 'Vietnam Is A Sad Trip'. The Floyd came on as the sun's pink fingers touched the huge eastern window. Barry Miles, the 60s chronicler, reported: 'Syd's eyes blazed as his notes soared up into the strengthening light, as the dawn was reflected in his famous mirror-disc Telecaster [or rather, Esquire].' The truth was less rosy. Barrett was tired, so terribly tired.
There's a horrible ring of truth to Barrett's old college friend Sue Kingsford's contention that, in 1967, Barrett would regularly visit her in Beaufort Street, to score from a heavy acid dealer in the basement called 'Captain Bob'. It certainly sounds more likely than the rumours that Barrett's camp-followers were lacing his tea with LSD. Kingsford's boyfriend Jock says: 'Spiking was a heinous crime. You just wouldn't do it. There was a ritual to acid-taking those days - a peaceful scene, good sounds.'
Cambridge pal and future Floyd member David Gilmour reckons: 'Syd didn't need encouraging. If drugs were going, he'd take them by the shovelful.' Gilmour tends to agree with something fellow Camridgian and Floyd's bassist Waters once said that 'Syd was being fed acid.' But Sue Kingsford giggles: 'We were all feeding it to each other... It was a crazy time.' Despite her attachment to Jock, she had a one-night stand with Barrett. 'We were tripping,' she explains.
Ah, but what does she mean by tripping? Another of Barrett's Cambridge friends, Andrew Rawlinson, comments: 'Acid in those days was five times stronger than today's stuff. On a proper trip, you might take 250 micrograms. But a faction believed in taking 50mcg every day. [There was even a popular hippy-handbook on the subject.] On that, you could function - you might even appear normal - but you couldn't initiate much.'
Perhaps that was Barrett's way. But if he had actually taken a proper dose of acid at the Technicolor Dream then it was a fairly rare event. He simply didn't have the time for anything stronger than dope - which he did smoke in copious quantities. And maybe for a few Mandrax, the hypnotic tranquillisers which, if one can ride the first wave of tiredness, induced an opiate-like buzz when swallowed with alcohol. In legend, 'Mandies make you randy.' They may have appealed to Barrett because they were fashionable in the late 60s - or because they stopped his mind from spinning.
The band weren't worried by his behaviour, yet Syd was Syd. And if, by the end of May, people who hadn't seen Barrett for a while thought he had changed, his month had started well. On 12 May 1967 the band played the 'Games for May' concert at the Queen Elizabeth Hall. Barrett wrote an early version of 'See Emily Play' for the event, which was essentially a normal concert bookended by some pretentious bits. The Floyd introduced a rudimentary quad sound-system, played taped noises from nature and had a liquid red light show. Mason was amplified sawing a log. Waters threw potatoes at a gong. The roadies pumped out thousands of soap bubbles and one of them, dressed as an admiral, threw daffodils into the stalls. The mess earnt the Floyd a ban from the hall and a favourable review from The Financial Times.
On 2 June, the Floyd played Joe Boyd's UFO after a two-month absence. Though the other band members were friendly, Boyd said Barrett 'just looked at me. I looked right in his eye and there was no twinkle, no glint... you know, nobody home.' Visiting London from France, David Gilmour dropped in on the recording of 'Emily': 'Syd didn't seem to recognise me and he just stared back,' he says. 'He was a different person from the one I'd last seen in October.' Was he on drugs, though? 'I'd done plenty of acid and dope - often with Syd - and that was different from how he had become.'
Touring the provinces in July, like the rest of the band, Barrett resented the beery mob baying for 'Arnold' and 'Emily'. The Floyd even wrote a white-noise number called 'Reaction in G' to express their feelings. But Barrett's inner reaction was harder to fathom. With his echo-machines on full tilt, he might detune his Fender until its strings were flapping, and hit one note all night. He might stand with his arms by his side, the guitar hanging from his neck, staring straight ahead, while the others performed as a three-piece.
Perhaps Barrett was making a statement. Perhaps he was pushing his experimental notions of 'music-of-the-moment' to new boundaries. Whatever else, he was now seriously mentally ill. And almost certainly he suspected it himself.
After a couple of further concert debacles, Jenner and his partner Andrew King were forced to act. Though their debut LP Piper at the Gates of Dawn was released on 4 August, Blackhill cancelled the next three weeks' gigs and arranged a holiday for Barrett and Corner on the Balearic island of Formentera. Hutt and Rick Wright would be chaperones, accompanied by their partners and Hutt's baby son. Waters and his wife would be in Ibiza. When Melody Maker learnt of this, their front-page splash read: 'Pink Floyd Flake Out'.
2 November 1967, US mini-tour. Pink Floyd were not prepared for the American way. They had expected the San Francisco scene to be similar to Britain's. Instead, they found themselves in humungous venues like the Winterland, supporting such blues bands as Big Brother and the Holding Company (led by Janis Joplin). The three nights they played with Joplin, they borrowed her lighting because their own seemed too weedy. The crowd weren't into feedback or English whimsy - acid-inspired or not. Barrett was off the map, and when he did play, it was to a different tune.
At the beginning of the week his hair had been badly permed at Vidal Sassoon, and he was distraught. The greased-up 'punk' style with which he'd been experimenting would be better. Waters remembers that in the dressing-room at the Cheetah Club in Santa Monica, Barrett suddenly called for a tin of Brylcreem and tipped the whole lot on his head. As the gunk melted, it slipped down his face until Barrett resembled 'a gutted candle'. Producing a bottle of Mandrax, he crushed them into the mess before taking the stage. David Gilmour says he 'still can't believe that Syd would waste good Mandies'. But a lighting man called John Marsh, who was also there, confirms the story. Girls in the front row, seeing his lips and nostrils bubbling with Brylcreem, screamed. He looked like he was decomposing onstage. Faced with this farce, some of the band and crew abandoned themselves to drink, drugs, groupies and the sights. When they arrived in Los Angeles, Barrett had forgotten his guitar, which caused much cost and fuss. 'It's great to be in Las Vegas,' he said to a record company man in Hollywood. He fell into a swimming-pool and left his wet clothes behind.
The Floyd survived the tour by the skin of their teeth. On TV's Pat Boone Show, where they did 'Apples and Oranges', Barrett was happy to mime in rehearsals - but live he ignored the call to 'Action' four or five times, leaving Waters to fill in. Asked what he liked in the after-show chat, Barrett replied... after a dreadful pause... 'America!', which made the audience whoop. On American Bandstand and the Perry Como Show, he did not move his lips, to speak or mime.
Finishing their commitments on the West Coast, the band began thinking of how to replace or augment him. The next day, they were in Holland, handing Barrett notes in the hope that he would talk to them. The day after, they were bus-bound on a British package tour with Hendrix, the Move, Amen Corner, the Nice and others, playing two 17-minute sets a night for three weeks, with three days off in middle.Though he had worked harder, the schedule was too much for Barrett. Onstage, he was unable to function. Sometimes he failed to show up and the Nice's Dave O'List stood in for him. Once, Jenner had to stop him escaping by train.
Barrett did play occasional blinders through out the autumn of 1967, but these instances were as unpredictable as spring showers, and the band's hopes that he might 'return' dimmed. The Floyd stumbled through to Christmas, while the three other band members hatched a plan: they would ask David Gilmour to join the group to cover lead guitar and vocals while their sick colleague could do what he wanted, so long as he stood onstage.
Barrett couldn't care less, and Gilmour, broke, bandless and driving a van for a living - was known to be not only a terrific guitarist but also a wonderful mimic of musical parts. Drummer Nick Mason had already sounded him out when they ran into each other at a gig in Soho. On 3 January 1968, Gilmour accepted a try-out. The band had a week booked in a north London rehearsal hall before going back on the road.
Four gigs followed in the next fortnight, with Barrett contributing little. He looks happy enough in a cine-clip from the time, joining in with the lads for a tap-dance in a dressing-room. 'But in reality,' says Gilmour, 'he was rather pathetic.' On the day of the fifth gig the others were driving south from a business meeting in central London. As they drove, one of them - no one remembers who - asked, 'Shall we pick up Syd?' 'Fuck it,' said the others. 'Let's not bother.' Barrett, who probably didn't notice that night, would never work again with the band that he had crafted in his image. And they never quite put him out of their minds.
Not that their minds were made up. Though the Floyd would go on to huge fame and fortune, at the time they believed they probably had a few months left of milking psychedelia before ignominious disbandment. Barrett, as Waters says, was the 'goose that had laid the golden egg'. Now their frontman had become such a liability on tour, they would rather appear without their main attraction than risk his involvement.
However, Barrett still had the band's schedule. Waters remembers him turning up with his guitar at 'an Imperial College gig, I think, and he had to be very firmly told that he wasn't coming on stage with us'. At the Middle Earth, wearing all his Chelsea threads, he positioned himself in front of the low stage and stared at Gilmour throughout his performance. Now he had to watch his old college friend playing his licks. Undoubtedly, he felt hurt by this treatment.
Though the money from Piper came rolling in, Barrett's work went completely to pot. Jenner took him into the Abbey Road studios several times between May and July 1968, bringing various musicians and musical friends to help out, but achieved next to nothing.
Barrett was all over the place - forgetting to bring his guitar to sessions, breaking equipment to EMI's displeasure. Sometimes he couldn't even hold his plectrum. He was in a state, and had little new material. Jenner had the experience neither as a person not as a producer to coax anything out of him. By August, he and King were having less and less to do with Barrett - which could equally be said of the other lodgers in Egerton Court.
According to flatmate Po, 'Syd could still be very funny and lucid, but he could also be uncommunicative. Staring. Heavy, you know?'
In the spring of 1968, Roger Walters had talked to the hip psychiatrist RD Laing. He had even dri ven Barrett to an appointment: 'Syd wouldn't get out. What can you do?' In the intervening months, however, Barrett became less hostile to the idea of treatment. So Gale placed a call to Laing and Po booked a cab. But with the taxi-meter ticking outside, Barrett refused to leave the flat.
By the autumn of 68, he was homeless. Periodically he returned to Cambridge, where his mother Win fretted, urged him to see a doctor, and blindly hoped for the best. In London, he crashed on friends' floors - and began the midnight ramblings which would continue for two years.
By the mid 70s, the Syd Barrett Appreciation Society had folded, due to 'lack of Syd'. But he wasn't quite invisible. In 1977, ex-girlfriend Gala Pinion was in a supermarket on the Fulham Road. 'Where are you going, then?' he said. 'I'm going to buy you a drink.' They went for a drink, and he invited her back to his flat. Once there, 'He dropped his trousers and pulled out his cheque book,' says Pinion. 'How much do you want?' he asked. 'Come on, get your knickers down.'
Gala made her excuses and left, never to see him again. However, even as an invisible presence, he loomed large. The previous year, punk rock had appeared and the King's Road had become heartland. Without success, the Sex Pistols, their manager Malcolm McLaren and their art director Jamie Reid tried to contact Barrett, to ask him to produce their first album. The Damned hoped he would produce their second, realised it was impossible and settled for the Floyd's Nick Mason ('Who didn't have a clue', according to the band's bassist Captain Sensible).
Barrett continued to do as little and spend as much as ever. Bankrupt, he left London for Win's new Cambridge home in 1981.
From then until now, only a handful of encounters with Barrett have been reported first-hand, but some facts have come to light. An operation on his ulcer meant that Barrett lost much of his excess weight. Win thought he should keep himself occupied, so Roger Waters's mother Mary found him a gardening job with some wealthy friends. At first he prospered but, during a thunderstorm, he threw down his tools and left.
By this time, he was just calling himself 'Roger'. In 1982, his finances restored, he booked into the Chelsea Cloisters for a few weeks, but found he disliked London. He heard the voice of freedom and he followed - walking back to Cambridge, where he was found on Win's doorstep - and leaving his dirty laundry behind.
The circumstances of his final return to Cambridge were rightly interpreted by his family as a 'cry for help' and he agreed to spend a spell in Fulbourne psychiatric hospital. (It has often been said, on the grounds that he has an 'odd' mind, rather than a sick one.) He continued for a while as an outpatient at Fulbourne, with no trouble.
Barrett has never been sectioned. He has never had to take drugs for his mental health, except after one or two uncontrollable fits of anger, when he was admitted to Fulbourne and administered Largactyl. However, he has received other treatments. In the early 80s, he spent two years in a charitable institution, Greenwoods, in Essex. At this halfway house for lost souls, he joined in group and other forms of therapy, and was very content. But after an imagined slight, he walked out - again all the way to Win's house. The increasingly frail Win moved in with her daughter Roe and her husband Paul Breen, according to Mary Waters, 'because she was so scared of his outbursts'.
Some people think Barrett suffers from Asperger's Syndrome. It certainly seems he can't be bothered to think about anything that doesn't directly affect him. He kept rabbits and cats for a while but forgot to feed them, so they had to be sent to more caring homes. Thereafter, the only intimate contacts he maintained were with Win and Roe. Otherwise, he seems to have lost the habit - and become wary - of human interaction, limiting himself to encounters with shop assistants and his sympathetic GP, whose surgery has become a second home. He was - and is still - in and out of hospital for his ulcers.
Paul Breen revealed that his brother-in-law was 'painting again', and meeting his mother in town for shopping trips. It was a 'very, very ordinary lifestyle,' said Breen, but not reclusive: 'I think the word "recluse" is probably emotive. It would be truer to say that he enjoys his own company now, rather than that of others.'
As more years went by, other news leaked out. Barrett was collecting coins. He was learning to cook, and could stuff a mean pepper. On the death of Win in 1991, he destroyed all his old diaries and art books - and also chopped down the front garden's fence and tree, and burnt them (though more in a spirit of renewal than grief). He had been a great support to Roe in her mourning, but hadn't attended the funeral because he 'wouldn't know what to do'. He still wrote down his thoughts all the time. He still painted - big works, six foot by four - but destroyed any that he didn't consider perfect, and stacked the rest against the wall. And sometimes he was unable to finish them, because obsessive fans had climbed over his back fence, and stolen the brushes from the table outside, where he worked.
A few titbits, to finish. In 1998, Barrett was diagnosed as a B-type diabetic - a genetic condition - and was prescribed a regime of medication and diet to which he is sporadically faithful. His eyesight will inevitably become 'tunnelled' as a result - sooner, rather than later, unless he regularly takes his tablets. However, he is far from 'blind', as reported on the more excitable websites.
For Christmas 2001, Barrett gave his sister a painting. For his birthday in January 2002, she brought him a new stereo, because he likes to listen to the Stones, Booker-T and the classical composers. However, he evinced no interest in the recent Echoes: The Best of Pink Floyd (on which nearly a fifth of the tracks are written by him, despite the fact that he only recorded with the band for less than a 30th of its lifespan). To coincide with the album's release, the BBC screened an Omnibus documentary about him, which he watched round at Roe's house. He is reported to have liked hearing 'Emily' and, particularly, seeing his old landlord Mike Leonard - who he called his 'teacher'. Otherwise, he thought the film 'a bit noisy'.
'Mister Barrett?'
'Yes.'
His voice is deeper than on any recordings, more cockneyfied than on the TV interviews he gave in 67. Behind him, the hall is clean but bare, the floorboards mostly covered in linoleum. I mention someone dear to him, from his childhood. She'd be coming to Cambridge in a couple of weeks, and wondered if Barrett might like a visit?
'No.'
He stands and stares, less embarrassed than me by the vision of him in his underpants.
'So is everything all right?'
'Yeah.'
'You're still painting?'
'No, I'm not doing anything,' he says (which is true - he's talking to me). 'I'm just looking after this place for the moment.'
'For the moment? Are you thinking of moving on?'
'Well, I'm not going to stay here for ever.' He pauses a split second, delivers an unexpected 'Bye-bye', and slams the door.
I'm left like others before me, trying to work out just what he meant. 'I'm not going to stay here for ever.' Does he just mean, 'One day, I might move house.' Or is it a nod to the fate that awaits us all? A coded message that he may re-emerge into the world - perhaps show new work or perform? And is opening the door in your underpants an unwitting demonstration of self-confidence, or an eccentricity, or worse? I retrace my steps, cross the main road to my car where I write a note that I hope is tactful: 'Dear Mr Barrett, I'm sorry to have disturbed your sunbathing. I didn't have time to mention that I'm writing a book on you...' I plead my case, give my telephone number, and return down the cracked pavement.
As I reach the gate, I see him weeding in the front corner of the garden, on his knees.
'Hi,' I say. 'I've written you a note.'
'Huh,' he says, not looking up, throwing roots behind him.
'May I leave it?' He straightens and stares into my eyes, but doesn't answer. He's wearing khaki shorts now, and gardening gloves, which aren't really suited to receiving the note - and I would be tempting fate to rest it on the side of the wheelbarrow which he has bought with him.
'Shall I put it through the letterbox?'
'It's nothing to do with me,' he says. So I do.
'Nice day,' I say, on leaving. 'Goodbye.'
He doesn't reply, and I never hear from him.
You Shone Like the Sun - Sunday October 6, 2002, The Observer
Syd Barrett was the prodigiously talented founder of Pink Floyd, but after just two years at the centre of the 60s psychedelic scene, he suffered a massive breakdown and has lived as a recluse ever since. In this extract from his candid new book, Tim Willis tracks him down and pieces together the story of rock's lost icon.
Remember when you were young, You shone like the sun. Shine on you crazy diamond. Now there's a look in your eyes, Like black holes in the sky. Shine on you crazy diamond.
Pink Floyd's tribute to Syd Barrett on Wish You Were Here, 1975
The received wisdom is that you don't disturb him.The last interview he gave was in 1971, and from then until now, there are only about 20 recorded encounters of any kind. His family says it upsets him to discuss the days when he was the spirit of psychedelia, beautiful Syd Barrett, the leader of Pink Floyd. He doesn't recognise himself as the shambling visionary who, during an extended nervous breakdown exacerbated by his drug intake, made two solos LPs, Madcap and Barrett , which are as eternally eloquent as Van Gogh's cornfields. He doesn't answer to his 60s nickname now. He's called Roger Barrett, as he was born in 1946.
On a blistering hot day, pacing the cracked tarmac pavement in this suburban Cambridge street, I wonder if I can act honourably by him. When the DJ Nicky Horne doorstepped him in the 80s, Barrett said, 'Syd can't talk to you now.' Perhaps, in his own way, he was telling the truth. But I could talk to him as Roger; ask him if he was still painting, as reported. I could pass on regards from friends he knew before he became Syd.
Two housewives in the street say he ignores their 'Good mornings' when he goes out to buy his Daily Mail and changing brands of fags. Apart from his sister, they don't think he has any visitors - not even workmen. But they don't see why I shouldn't take my chances. It's been a few years since backpackers camped by his gate. 'He didn't open the door for them, and he probably won't for you.'
So I walk up the concrete path of his grey pebble-dashed semi, try the bell and discover that it's disconnected. At the front of the house, all the curtains are open. The side passage is closed to prying eyes by a high gate. I knock on the front door and, after a minute or two, look through the downstairs bay window. Where you might expect a television and a three-piece suite, Barrett has constructed a bare, white-walled workshop. Pushed against the window is a tattered pink sofa. On the hardboard tops, toolboxes are neatly stacked, flexes coiled, pens put away in a white mug.
Then, a sound in the hall. Has he come in from the back garden? Perhaps it needs mowing, like the front lawn - although, judging by the mound of weeds by the path, he's been tidying the beds today.
I knock again, and hear three heavy steps. The door flies open and he's standing there. He's stark naked except for a small, tight pair of bright-blue Y-fronts; bouncing, like the books say he always did, on the balls of his feet.
He bars the doorway with one hand on the jamb, the other on the catch. His resemblance to Aleister Crowley in his Cefalu period is uncanny; his stare about as welcoming...
In 1988, the News of the World quoted the writer Jonathan Meades who, 20 years before had visited a South Kensington flat that Barrett shared with a bright, druggie clique from his home town of Cambridge. 'This rather weird, exotic and mildly famous creature was living in this flat with these people who to some extent were pimping off him, both professionally and privately,' said Meades. 'There was this terrible noise. It sounded like the heating pipes shaking. I said, "What's that?" and [they] sort of giggled and said, "That's Syd having a bad trip. We put him in the linen cupboard."'
It's a common motif in the Barrett legend: the genius mistreated, forced to endure unspeakable mental anguish for the fun of his fairweather friends. But it's not necessarily true. There are some terrible tales from that flat in Egerton Court. But on this occasion, as flatmate Aubrey 'Po' Powell remembers it, 'Pete Townshend used to come there, and Mick and Marianne. It was an incredibly cool scene. Jonty Meades was a hanger-on, a straight cat just out of school. I'm sure we told him that version of events - but only to wind him up.'
Similarly, Barrett's lover and flatmate at the time, Lindsay Corner, denies the stories that he locked her in her room for three days, feeding her biscuits under the door, then smashed a guitar over her head. This time, however, three other residents swear he did: 'I remember pulling Syd off her,' says Po. And that's the trouble with the whole Barrett business. There are witness accounts by people who weren't there, those who were there disagree - half of them, being as totally off their faces as Barrett was, must have a question mark over their evidence. If you can remember the 60s, as they say...
By October 1966, Barrett was already well on the way to stardom. Pink Floyd supported the Soft Machine's experimental jazz-rock at the IT magazine launch party, a 2,000-strong happening in the disused Roundhouse theatre, featuring acid aplenty, Marianne Faithfull dressed as a nun in a pussy-pelmet, and Paul McCartney disguised as an Arab. There was a giant jelly and a Pop Art-painted Cadillac, a mini-cinema and a performance piece by Yoko Ono.
'All apparently very psychedelic,' sniffed The Sunday Times of the Floyd, thus encouraging hundreds of difficult teenagers to check out their new residency at the All Saints Hall in Ladbroke Grove.
Now once- or twice-weekly, the shows took time to take off. Barrett's friend Juliet Wright remembers an occasion when there were so few punters that Barrett movingly recited Hamlet's 'To be or not to be' soliloquy onstage. But soon ravers were crossing London for the lights and the weirdness, titillated by music-press adverts using Timothy Leary's phrase of 'Turn on, Tune in, Drop out'. With Barrett's nursery-rhyme freak-outs lasting 40 minutes each, the Floyd become known as Britain's first 'psychedelic' band.
Apart from playing a packed live schedule, the Floyd were in pursuit of a recording contract, rehearsing and making rough demos. Floyd gig promoter Joe Boyd, who had production experience, took them into a studio in late January. Barrett had written 'Arnold Layne' by then, and perfected the relentless riff of 'Interstellar Overdrive'. EMI - the same label as the Beatles - signed them up on the basis of these demos, nominating 'Arnold' as the first single. Barrett was delighted. 'We want to be pop stars,' he said, gladly grinning for cheesy publicity shots of the band high-kicking on the street. However, by the beginning of April, he was already railing in the music papers against record-company executives who were pressing him for more commercial material.
He was even less cheery by the end of the month. Six weeks before, 'Arnold Layne' had been released. This jolly tale of Barrett's childhood pal and later Pink Floyd member Roger Waters's mum's washing-line raider was helped up the charts by a ban from Radio London, due to its lyrics about transvestism. But Barrett had grown to hate playing note-perfect, three-minute renditions on stage. On 22 April it reached number 20, its highest position. On 29 April, Barrett was still playing it, at Joe Boyd's UFO club at dawn and on a TV show in Holland that evening. The band then drove back to London to headline at 3am in Britain's biggest happening ever, the '14 Hour Technicolor Dream' at the cavernous Alexandra Palace.
It was a druggy affair. Floyd's co-manager Peter Jenner was certainly tripping that night, and Barrett is said to have been. John Lennon, Brian Jones and Jimi Hendrix were among those who played to a 10,000-strong audience. There were 40 bands, dancers in strobe shows, a helter-skelter and a noticeboard made of lightbulbs which displayed messages like 'Vietnam Is A Sad Trip'. The Floyd came on as the sun's pink fingers touched the huge eastern window. Barry Miles, the 60s chronicler, reported: 'Syd's eyes blazed as his notes soared up into the strengthening light, as the dawn was reflected in his famous mirror-disc Telecaster [or rather, Esquire].' The truth was less rosy. Barrett was tired, so terribly tired.
There's a horrible ring of truth to Barrett's old college friend Sue Kingsford's contention that, in 1967, Barrett would regularly visit her in Beaufort Street, to score from a heavy acid dealer in the basement called 'Captain Bob'. It certainly sounds more likely than the rumours that Barrett's camp-followers were lacing his tea with LSD. Kingsford's boyfriend Jock says: 'Spiking was a heinous crime. You just wouldn't do it. There was a ritual to acid-taking those days - a peaceful scene, good sounds.'
Cambridge pal and future Floyd member David Gilmour reckons: 'Syd didn't need encouraging. If drugs were going, he'd take them by the shovelful.' Gilmour tends to agree with something fellow Camridgian and Floyd's bassist Waters once said that 'Syd was being fed acid.' But Sue Kingsford giggles: 'We were all feeding it to each other... It was a crazy time.' Despite her attachment to Jock, she had a one-night stand with Barrett. 'We were tripping,' she explains.
Ah, but what does she mean by tripping? Another of Barrett's Cambridge friends, Andrew Rawlinson, comments: 'Acid in those days was five times stronger than today's stuff. On a proper trip, you might take 250 micrograms. But a faction believed in taking 50mcg every day. [There was even a popular hippy-handbook on the subject.] On that, you could function - you might even appear normal - but you couldn't initiate much.'
Perhaps that was Barrett's way. But if he had actually taken a proper dose of acid at the Technicolor Dream then it was a fairly rare event. He simply didn't have the time for anything stronger than dope - which he did smoke in copious quantities. And maybe for a few Mandrax, the hypnotic tranquillisers which, if one can ride the first wave of tiredness, induced an opiate-like buzz when swallowed with alcohol. In legend, 'Mandies make you randy.' They may have appealed to Barrett because they were fashionable in the late 60s - or because they stopped his mind from spinning.
The band weren't worried by his behaviour, yet Syd was Syd. And if, by the end of May, people who hadn't seen Barrett for a while thought he had changed, his month had started well. On 12 May 1967 the band played the 'Games for May' concert at the Queen Elizabeth Hall. Barrett wrote an early version of 'See Emily Play' for the event, which was essentially a normal concert bookended by some pretentious bits. The Floyd introduced a rudimentary quad sound-system, played taped noises from nature and had a liquid red light show. Mason was amplified sawing a log. Waters threw potatoes at a gong. The roadies pumped out thousands of soap bubbles and one of them, dressed as an admiral, threw daffodils into the stalls. The mess earnt the Floyd a ban from the hall and a favourable review from The Financial Times.
On 2 June, the Floyd played Joe Boyd's UFO after a two-month absence. Though the other band members were friendly, Boyd said Barrett 'just looked at me. I looked right in his eye and there was no twinkle, no glint... you know, nobody home.' Visiting London from France, David Gilmour dropped in on the recording of 'Emily': 'Syd didn't seem to recognise me and he just stared back,' he says. 'He was a different person from the one I'd last seen in October.' Was he on drugs, though? 'I'd done plenty of acid and dope - often with Syd - and that was different from how he had become.'
Touring the provinces in July, like the rest of the band, Barrett resented the beery mob baying for 'Arnold' and 'Emily'. The Floyd even wrote a white-noise number called 'Reaction in G' to express their feelings. But Barrett's inner reaction was harder to fathom. With his echo-machines on full tilt, he might detune his Fender until its strings were flapping, and hit one note all night. He might stand with his arms by his side, the guitar hanging from his neck, staring straight ahead, while the others performed as a three-piece.
Perhaps Barrett was making a statement. Perhaps he was pushing his experimental notions of 'music-of-the-moment' to new boundaries. Whatever else, he was now seriously mentally ill. And almost certainly he suspected it himself.
After a couple of further concert debacles, Jenner and his partner Andrew King were forced to act. Though their debut LP Piper at the Gates of Dawn was released on 4 August, Blackhill cancelled the next three weeks' gigs and arranged a holiday for Barrett and Corner on the Balearic island of Formentera. Hutt and Rick Wright would be chaperones, accompanied by their partners and Hutt's baby son. Waters and his wife would be in Ibiza. When Melody Maker learnt of this, their front-page splash read: 'Pink Floyd Flake Out'.
2 November 1967, US mini-tour. Pink Floyd were not prepared for the American way. They had expected the San Francisco scene to be similar to Britain's. Instead, they found themselves in humungous venues like the Winterland, supporting such blues bands as Big Brother and the Holding Company (led by Janis Joplin). The three nights they played with Joplin, they borrowed her lighting because their own seemed too weedy. The crowd weren't into feedback or English whimsy - acid-inspired or not. Barrett was off the map, and when he did play, it was to a different tune.
At the beginning of the week his hair had been badly permed at Vidal Sassoon, and he was distraught. The greased-up 'punk' style with which he'd been experimenting would be better. Waters remembers that in the dressing-room at the Cheetah Club in Santa Monica, Barrett suddenly called for a tin of Brylcreem and tipped the whole lot on his head. As the gunk melted, it slipped down his face until Barrett resembled 'a gutted candle'. Producing a bottle of Mandrax, he crushed them into the mess before taking the stage. David Gilmour says he 'still can't believe that Syd would waste good Mandies'. But a lighting man called John Marsh, who was also there, confirms the story. Girls in the front row, seeing his lips and nostrils bubbling with Brylcreem, screamed. He looked like he was decomposing onstage. Faced with this farce, some of the band and crew abandoned themselves to drink, drugs, groupies and the sights. When they arrived in Los Angeles, Barrett had forgotten his guitar, which caused much cost and fuss. 'It's great to be in Las Vegas,' he said to a record company man in Hollywood. He fell into a swimming-pool and left his wet clothes behind.
The Floyd survived the tour by the skin of their teeth. On TV's Pat Boone Show, where they did 'Apples and Oranges', Barrett was happy to mime in rehearsals - but live he ignored the call to 'Action' four or five times, leaving Waters to fill in. Asked what he liked in the after-show chat, Barrett replied... after a dreadful pause... 'America!', which made the audience whoop. On American Bandstand and the Perry Como Show, he did not move his lips, to speak or mime.
Finishing their commitments on the West Coast, the band began thinking of how to replace or augment him. The next day, they were in Holland, handing Barrett notes in the hope that he would talk to them. The day after, they were bus-bound on a British package tour with Hendrix, the Move, Amen Corner, the Nice and others, playing two 17-minute sets a night for three weeks, with three days off in middle.Though he had worked harder, the schedule was too much for Barrett. Onstage, he was unable to function. Sometimes he failed to show up and the Nice's Dave O'List stood in for him. Once, Jenner had to stop him escaping by train.
Barrett did play occasional blinders through out the autumn of 1967, but these instances were as unpredictable as spring showers, and the band's hopes that he might 'return' dimmed. The Floyd stumbled through to Christmas, while the three other band members hatched a plan: they would ask David Gilmour to join the group to cover lead guitar and vocals while their sick colleague could do what he wanted, so long as he stood onstage.
Barrett couldn't care less, and Gilmour, broke, bandless and driving a van for a living - was known to be not only a terrific guitarist but also a wonderful mimic of musical parts. Drummer Nick Mason had already sounded him out when they ran into each other at a gig in Soho. On 3 January 1968, Gilmour accepted a try-out. The band had a week booked in a north London rehearsal hall before going back on the road.
Four gigs followed in the next fortnight, with Barrett contributing little. He looks happy enough in a cine-clip from the time, joining in with the lads for a tap-dance in a dressing-room. 'But in reality,' says Gilmour, 'he was rather pathetic.' On the day of the fifth gig the others were driving south from a business meeting in central London. As they drove, one of them - no one remembers who - asked, 'Shall we pick up Syd?' 'Fuck it,' said the others. 'Let's not bother.' Barrett, who probably didn't notice that night, would never work again with the band that he had crafted in his image. And they never quite put him out of their minds.
Not that their minds were made up. Though the Floyd would go on to huge fame and fortune, at the time they believed they probably had a few months left of milking psychedelia before ignominious disbandment. Barrett, as Waters says, was the 'goose that had laid the golden egg'. Now their frontman had become such a liability on tour, they would rather appear without their main attraction than risk his involvement.
However, Barrett still had the band's schedule. Waters remembers him turning up with his guitar at 'an Imperial College gig, I think, and he had to be very firmly told that he wasn't coming on stage with us'. At the Middle Earth, wearing all his Chelsea threads, he positioned himself in front of the low stage and stared at Gilmour throughout his performance. Now he had to watch his old college friend playing his licks. Undoubtedly, he felt hurt by this treatment.
Though the money from Piper came rolling in, Barrett's work went completely to pot. Jenner took him into the Abbey Road studios several times between May and July 1968, bringing various musicians and musical friends to help out, but achieved next to nothing.
Barrett was all over the place - forgetting to bring his guitar to sessions, breaking equipment to EMI's displeasure. Sometimes he couldn't even hold his plectrum. He was in a state, and had little new material. Jenner had the experience neither as a person not as a producer to coax anything out of him. By August, he and King were having less and less to do with Barrett - which could equally be said of the other lodgers in Egerton Court.
According to flatmate Po, 'Syd could still be very funny and lucid, but he could also be uncommunicative. Staring. Heavy, you know?'
In the spring of 1968, Roger Walters had talked to the hip psychiatrist RD Laing. He had even dri ven Barrett to an appointment: 'Syd wouldn't get out. What can you do?' In the intervening months, however, Barrett became less hostile to the idea of treatment. So Gale placed a call to Laing and Po booked a cab. But with the taxi-meter ticking outside, Barrett refused to leave the flat.
By the autumn of 68, he was homeless. Periodically he returned to Cambridge, where his mother Win fretted, urged him to see a doctor, and blindly hoped for the best. In London, he crashed on friends' floors - and began the midnight ramblings which would continue for two years.
By the mid 70s, the Syd Barrett Appreciation Society had folded, due to 'lack of Syd'. But he wasn't quite invisible. In 1977, ex-girlfriend Gala Pinion was in a supermarket on the Fulham Road. 'Where are you going, then?' he said. 'I'm going to buy you a drink.' They went for a drink, and he invited her back to his flat. Once there, 'He dropped his trousers and pulled out his cheque book,' says Pinion. 'How much do you want?' he asked. 'Come on, get your knickers down.'
Gala made her excuses and left, never to see him again. However, even as an invisible presence, he loomed large. The previous year, punk rock had appeared and the King's Road had become heartland. Without success, the Sex Pistols, their manager Malcolm McLaren and their art director Jamie Reid tried to contact Barrett, to ask him to produce their first album. The Damned hoped he would produce their second, realised it was impossible and settled for the Floyd's Nick Mason ('Who didn't have a clue', according to the band's bassist Captain Sensible).
Barrett continued to do as little and spend as much as ever. Bankrupt, he left London for Win's new Cambridge home in 1981.
From then until now, only a handful of encounters with Barrett have been reported first-hand, but some facts have come to light. An operation on his ulcer meant that Barrett lost much of his excess weight. Win thought he should keep himself occupied, so Roger Waters's mother Mary found him a gardening job with some wealthy friends. At first he prospered but, during a thunderstorm, he threw down his tools and left.
By this time, he was just calling himself 'Roger'. In 1982, his finances restored, he booked into the Chelsea Cloisters for a few weeks, but found he disliked London. He heard the voice of freedom and he followed - walking back to Cambridge, where he was found on Win's doorstep - and leaving his dirty laundry behind.
The circumstances of his final return to Cambridge were rightly interpreted by his family as a 'cry for help' and he agreed to spend a spell in Fulbourne psychiatric hospital. (It has often been said, on the grounds that he has an 'odd' mind, rather than a sick one.) He continued for a while as an outpatient at Fulbourne, with no trouble.
Barrett has never been sectioned. He has never had to take drugs for his mental health, except after one or two uncontrollable fits of anger, when he was admitted to Fulbourne and administered Largactyl. However, he has received other treatments. In the early 80s, he spent two years in a charitable institution, Greenwoods, in Essex. At this halfway house for lost souls, he joined in group and other forms of therapy, and was very content. But after an imagined slight, he walked out - again all the way to Win's house. The increasingly frail Win moved in with her daughter Roe and her husband Paul Breen, according to Mary Waters, 'because she was so scared of his outbursts'.
Some people think Barrett suffers from Asperger's Syndrome. It certainly seems he can't be bothered to think about anything that doesn't directly affect him. He kept rabbits and cats for a while but forgot to feed them, so they had to be sent to more caring homes. Thereafter, the only intimate contacts he maintained were with Win and Roe. Otherwise, he seems to have lost the habit - and become wary - of human interaction, limiting himself to encounters with shop assistants and his sympathetic GP, whose surgery has become a second home. He was - and is still - in and out of hospital for his ulcers.
Paul Breen revealed that his brother-in-law was 'painting again', and meeting his mother in town for shopping trips. It was a 'very, very ordinary lifestyle,' said Breen, but not reclusive: 'I think the word "recluse" is probably emotive. It would be truer to say that he enjoys his own company now, rather than that of others.'
As more years went by, other news leaked out. Barrett was collecting coins. He was learning to cook, and could stuff a mean pepper. On the death of Win in 1991, he destroyed all his old diaries and art books - and also chopped down the front garden's fence and tree, and burnt them (though more in a spirit of renewal than grief). He had been a great support to Roe in her mourning, but hadn't attended the funeral because he 'wouldn't know what to do'. He still wrote down his thoughts all the time. He still painted - big works, six foot by four - but destroyed any that he didn't consider perfect, and stacked the rest against the wall. And sometimes he was unable to finish them, because obsessive fans had climbed over his back fence, and stolen the brushes from the table outside, where he worked.
A few titbits, to finish. In 1998, Barrett was diagnosed as a B-type diabetic - a genetic condition - and was prescribed a regime of medication and diet to which he is sporadically faithful. His eyesight will inevitably become 'tunnelled' as a result - sooner, rather than later, unless he regularly takes his tablets. However, he is far from 'blind', as reported on the more excitable websites.
For Christmas 2001, Barrett gave his sister a painting. For his birthday in January 2002, she brought him a new stereo, because he likes to listen to the Stones, Booker-T and the classical composers. However, he evinced no interest in the recent Echoes: The Best of Pink Floyd (on which nearly a fifth of the tracks are written by him, despite the fact that he only recorded with the band for less than a 30th of its lifespan). To coincide with the album's release, the BBC screened an Omnibus documentary about him, which he watched round at Roe's house. He is reported to have liked hearing 'Emily' and, particularly, seeing his old landlord Mike Leonard - who he called his 'teacher'. Otherwise, he thought the film 'a bit noisy'.
'Mister Barrett?'
'Yes.'
His voice is deeper than on any recordings, more cockneyfied than on the TV interviews he gave in 67. Behind him, the hall is clean but bare, the floorboards mostly covered in linoleum. I mention someone dear to him, from his childhood. She'd be coming to Cambridge in a couple of weeks, and wondered if Barrett might like a visit?
'No.'
He stands and stares, less embarrassed than me by the vision of him in his underpants.
'So is everything all right?'
'Yeah.'
'You're still painting?'
'No, I'm not doing anything,' he says (which is true - he's talking to me). 'I'm just looking after this place for the moment.'
'For the moment? Are you thinking of moving on?'
'Well, I'm not going to stay here for ever.' He pauses a split second, delivers an unexpected 'Bye-bye', and slams the door.
I'm left like others before me, trying to work out just what he meant. 'I'm not going to stay here for ever.' Does he just mean, 'One day, I might move house.' Or is it a nod to the fate that awaits us all? A coded message that he may re-emerge into the world - perhaps show new work or perform? And is opening the door in your underpants an unwitting demonstration of self-confidence, or an eccentricity, or worse? I retrace my steps, cross the main road to my car where I write a note that I hope is tactful: 'Dear Mr Barrett, I'm sorry to have disturbed your sunbathing. I didn't have time to mention that I'm writing a book on you...' I plead my case, give my telephone number, and return down the cracked pavement.
As I reach the gate, I see him weeding in the front corner of the garden, on his knees.
'Hi,' I say. 'I've written you a note.'
'Huh,' he says, not looking up, throwing roots behind him.
'May I leave it?' He straightens and stares into my eyes, but doesn't answer. He's wearing khaki shorts now, and gardening gloves, which aren't really suited to receiving the note - and I would be tempting fate to rest it on the side of the wheelbarrow which he has bought with him.
'Shall I put it through the letterbox?'
'It's nothing to do with me,' he says. So I do.
'Nice day,' I say, on leaving. 'Goodbye.'
He doesn't reply, and I never hear from him.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Syd's Pink Floyd - Ten Great Nights
Mark Jones from the mapcaplaughs yahoo group at: http://launch.groups.yahoo.com/group/madcapslaughing/ has been scanning Syd Barrett articles from Record Collector Magazine. Today, we re-post the parts pertaining to Syd Barrett from an article from February 1998 chronicling Pink Floyd's top live performances...
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Record Collector: PsyFreakOut May 2003 - 2 pages/20 Singles PF Jul 2004 - 2 pages
Mark Jones from the mapcaplaughs yahoo group at: http://launch.groups.yahoo.com/group/madcapslaughing/ has been scanning Syd Barrett articles from Record Collector Magazine. I'll re-post a few here...
Record Collector: PsyFreakOut May 2003
Record Collector: 20 Singles PF Jul 2004 - 2 pages
Record Collector: PsyFreakOut May 2003
Record Collector: 20 Singles PF Jul 2004 - 2 pages
My Friend Syd - Record Collector/Mar 2002 - 2 pages
Mark Jones from the mapcaplaughs yahoo group at: http://launch.groups.yahoo.com/group/madcapslaughing/ has been scanning Syd Barrett articles from Record Collector Magazine. I'll re-post a few here...
My Friend Syd - Record Collector/Mar 2002 - 2 pages
My Friend Syd - Record Collector/Mar 2002 - 2 pages
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Syd's Gear
From: julianindica on the madcapslaughing Yahoo group here: http://launch.groups.yahoo.com/group/madcapslaughing/
Syd's Gear - for all the guitar maniacs on the list
By the end of 1966, Barrett used a 50-watt Selmer Truvoice Treble n' Bass 50 Mk II with matching `All-Purpose 50' Speaker Cabinet with 2X12 speakers. Onstage, the Pink Floyd used Selmer Goliath cabinets and Stereomaster guitar amplifier heads, with four Selmer TV/100 PA amplifier heads, for a tremendous roar.
A perfect gig amp with clean tone, Syd's Selmer combo excelled at two things – treble and bass. Channels had clean tone to about four on the volume dial. Turning volume up, bass channel had vigorous crunch, with blues and jazz overtones. A bit higher and Syd's dark expansive proto-metal sound rumbled through. Even with treble control down, treble channel had knife's edge sharpness. As Syd turned treble higher and pushed the amplifier hard, he got into extreme noise and feedback. His Selmer amp had an effects loop wired to pre-amp valve, an echo send return on the back Syd utilised with Binson and a Selmer Buzz-Tone fuzz pedal.
(from dysale67)
An early solid-state distortion unit Selmer introduced in September 1966, a three-stage transistor circuit gave Buzz-Tone much smoother distortion than other fuzz pedals. Barrett was an expert manipulator of effects, used with restraint. Barrett's Buzz-Tone fuzz had stinging bite at high volume, with great sustain. (`buzz a while...sting! ')
Syd put Buzz-Tone on maximum setting then rolled guitar volume knob down for overdriven parts and back for distortion. Like Gilmour or Hendrix, Syd set fuzz and volume at maximum level and used guitar volume to control gain and fuzz. Fuzz pedal boosted and clipped sine wave input from guitar into square waveform. Buzz-Tone's germanium transistors were notorious for wonky tone in hot clubs, an interstellar overdose of flat sine waves. As Buzz-Tone clipped, intermodulation caused signal heavy with extra harmonics, often distorted.
(from dysale67)
Syd's Esquire proved versatile for every gig. With all 21 frets clear of the cutaway, Syd howled right up the neck with superb sustain. The single coil bridge pickup was heavy, with strong mid-range, and much power at high volume. Playing live, Syd flicked the three-tone selector switch, with resistors and capacitors altering frequency response.
In position one, or bridge-setting, tone control was disconnected and wired direct to output jack. Here, Syd got crisp treble lead tones, setting Selmer at four or five gain, for leads more scalding than Telecaster. In position two, standard volume and tone control arrangement allowed Syd to darken and brighten passages. Turning tone knob to the centre gave Syd good Telecaster-like mid-range to vamp while Rick soloed. Syd could mellow tone a bit by strumming past where neck pickup would be, or diving to the bridge with Zippo flashing across the bottom E string for his signature sustain violin-like tone. In position three, tone control was again disengaged.
A unique Fender tone capacitor rolled off treble and some bass, producing muted dark tone the rhythm player in Syd thrived on. Here he could drop into Waters' bass range and thicken rhythm.
(from andrej10220)
Esquire enthusiasts rave about so-called `cocked wah' in the third position, where signal highs and lows swooped and dipped for pronounced hard-hitting tone. Barrett relied on barré chords to reduce dissonance, damping with his thumb over E string. Applying effects to amplified signal after distortion by preamp, echo and fuzz sounded better. Syd tweaked Binson volume input for overdrive and ran the loop in parallel with dry amp signal, boosting Binson's maelstrom undertow as signal waned. Syd would raise volume on fading echoes, capturing decay, decentring rhythm. Using different pedals in effects chain, plugging ends into the amplifier, Syd got repetitive feedback signal he modulated with effects; filtering with Binson, adding gain with Buzz-Tone; modulating wave forms with swell.
(from dysale67)
By the Games For May concert, Syd was experimenting with a Fender Stratocaster and Vox Tone-Bender pedal, also using a foot switch to tap in and out of Binson echoes. By the end of the summer, Syd was further using a Selmer wah pedal, one of the very first British guitarists to do so.
Syd's Gear - for all the guitar maniacs on the list
By the end of 1966, Barrett used a 50-watt Selmer Truvoice Treble n' Bass 50 Mk II with matching `All-Purpose 50' Speaker Cabinet with 2X12 speakers. Onstage, the Pink Floyd used Selmer Goliath cabinets and Stereomaster guitar amplifier heads, with four Selmer TV/100 PA amplifier heads, for a tremendous roar.
A perfect gig amp with clean tone, Syd's Selmer combo excelled at two things – treble and bass. Channels had clean tone to about four on the volume dial. Turning volume up, bass channel had vigorous crunch, with blues and jazz overtones. A bit higher and Syd's dark expansive proto-metal sound rumbled through. Even with treble control down, treble channel had knife's edge sharpness. As Syd turned treble higher and pushed the amplifier hard, he got into extreme noise and feedback. His Selmer amp had an effects loop wired to pre-amp valve, an echo send return on the back Syd utilised with Binson and a Selmer Buzz-Tone fuzz pedal.
(from dysale67)An early solid-state distortion unit Selmer introduced in September 1966, a three-stage transistor circuit gave Buzz-Tone much smoother distortion than other fuzz pedals. Barrett was an expert manipulator of effects, used with restraint. Barrett's Buzz-Tone fuzz had stinging bite at high volume, with great sustain. (`buzz a while...sting! ')
Syd put Buzz-Tone on maximum setting then rolled guitar volume knob down for overdriven parts and back for distortion. Like Gilmour or Hendrix, Syd set fuzz and volume at maximum level and used guitar volume to control gain and fuzz. Fuzz pedal boosted and clipped sine wave input from guitar into square waveform. Buzz-Tone's germanium transistors were notorious for wonky tone in hot clubs, an interstellar overdose of flat sine waves. As Buzz-Tone clipped, intermodulation caused signal heavy with extra harmonics, often distorted.
(from dysale67)
Syd's Esquire proved versatile for every gig. With all 21 frets clear of the cutaway, Syd howled right up the neck with superb sustain. The single coil bridge pickup was heavy, with strong mid-range, and much power at high volume. Playing live, Syd flicked the three-tone selector switch, with resistors and capacitors altering frequency response.
In position one, or bridge-setting, tone control was disconnected and wired direct to output jack. Here, Syd got crisp treble lead tones, setting Selmer at four or five gain, for leads more scalding than Telecaster. In position two, standard volume and tone control arrangement allowed Syd to darken and brighten passages. Turning tone knob to the centre gave Syd good Telecaster-like mid-range to vamp while Rick soloed. Syd could mellow tone a bit by strumming past where neck pickup would be, or diving to the bridge with Zippo flashing across the bottom E string for his signature sustain violin-like tone. In position three, tone control was again disengaged.
A unique Fender tone capacitor rolled off treble and some bass, producing muted dark tone the rhythm player in Syd thrived on. Here he could drop into Waters' bass range and thicken rhythm.
(from andrej10220)Esquire enthusiasts rave about so-called `cocked wah' in the third position, where signal highs and lows swooped and dipped for pronounced hard-hitting tone. Barrett relied on barré chords to reduce dissonance, damping with his thumb over E string. Applying effects to amplified signal after distortion by preamp, echo and fuzz sounded better. Syd tweaked Binson volume input for overdrive and ran the loop in parallel with dry amp signal, boosting Binson's maelstrom undertow as signal waned. Syd would raise volume on fading echoes, capturing decay, decentring rhythm. Using different pedals in effects chain, plugging ends into the amplifier, Syd got repetitive feedback signal he modulated with effects; filtering with Binson, adding gain with Buzz-Tone; modulating wave forms with swell.
(from dysale67)
By the Games For May concert, Syd was experimenting with a Fender Stratocaster and Vox Tone-Bender pedal, also using a foot switch to tap in and out of Binson echoes. By the end of the summer, Syd was further using a Selmer wah pedal, one of the very first British guitarists to do so.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Syd Barrett Article by Mark Paytress
http://www.geocities.com/Vienna/Strasse/2724/paytress.html
PINK FLOYD and SYD BARRETT:
Record Collector Magazine, 1993
By Mark Paytress
Painting by Roger "Syd" Barrett
Mark Paytress examines the Floyd's early career, and the subsequent solo work of their erratic songwriter, vocalist and guitarist
In common with Brian Wilson, Captain Beefheart and Phil Spector, Syd Barrett is a musician whose work is often overshadowed by the myths that surround his personal life. Though this has elevated Barrett's status as one of rock's most enigmatic figures, it means that the erratic genius of his music often takes second place to a seemingly never-ending string of tales documenting his eccentric behaviour. But though interest in Barrett has always been keen, 1988 has been earmarked by fans as the year which will at last deliver some of his long-lost recordings. This promise has already been partially fulfilled with the released of Syd's 1970 'Top Gear' radio session of Strange Fruit Records; the much promised EMI album of unissued studio material is still in the pipeline
While we documented the full Pink Floyd story a couple of years back (issue 83), no appreciation of Syd Barrett would be complete without an assessment of his pioneering recordings with the Floyd. However, to avoid too much duplication, the emphasis this time will focus away from the official U.K. releases and instead highlight the unofficial recordings and foreign editions
Since he left Pink Floyd in spring 1968, Syd has spent much of his time in seclusion. A flurry of activity during 1969 and 1970 resulted in the release of two solo albums and a handful of live appearances, but since then, he has faded from the music scene completely. Jimmy Page, Brian Eno and his old friend from the UFO days Kevin Ayers have all tried unsuccessfully to coax him back, and despite occasional rumours - in 1984, a story went out that he had played live with Carla Bley in Germany - it is highly unlikely that Syd Barrett will make a return to either stage or recording studio
While at Cambridge School for Boys, the adolescent Roger 'Syd' Barrett kicked off his musical career on a second-hand banjo, though he quickly switched to acoustic guitar. Around 1962, he teamed up with local combo Geoff Mott and the Mottos, who specialised in Shadows' instrumentals interspersed with the occasional U.S. cover. After the group split, Syd discovered Bo Diddley, embraced the blues and switched to bass for a while. It is a common belief among Floyd fans that Dave Gilmour taught Syd some guitar licks during this period. The pair certainly hitched together to the South of France one summer
It was while studying Fine Art at Camberwell Art School that Syd first came into contact with the Abdabs, an R&B group made up of architectural students from Regent Street Polytechnic. One Abdab, Roger Waters, knew Barrett from Cambridge and before long Syd had joined on guitar, the band had narrowed down to a quartet and started to go by the name Pink Floyd. They were quick to develop their own sound and became instrumental in spearheading the U.K. psychedelic movement. Their stage shows began to incorporate slides and lights, while 12-bar standards gradually gave way to lengthy improvised pieces
By the time Pink Floyd entered the Sound Techniques studio on January and February 1967 with producer Joe Boyd, Syd had begun to write his own material. Two of his earliest compositions, "Arnold Layne" and "Candy And A Currant Bun", were coupled for the band's debut single although, to be fair, the flip was heavily derivative of Howlin' Wolf's "Smokestack Lightning". The sessions in Chelsea also produced an early recording of "Interstellar Overdrive", one of the band's most popular numbers where Barrett's riff (allegedly based on Love's version of Burt Bacharach's "My Little Red Book") gave way to a lengthy improvisational passage which defined the medium of the 'psychedelic jam' for years to come. This version later turned up on the soundtrack LP, "Tonite Let's All Make Love In London" (Instant INLP 002), albeit in a frustratingly truncated form. Although nine minutes of the track was spread throughout the movie, it was restricted to just three on the album.
Yet these sessions were not Pink Floyd's first forays into a recording studio. They had previously had an unsuccessful day at the studio of Thompson Recording Ltd., in Hemel Hempstead on 31st October 1966. It appears that "Candy And A Currant Bun" and "Stoned Again" (some say "Stoned Alone") were recorded. A poor quality recording of the former is in circulation, though it is more likely to hail from a rehearsal session.
Between February and July, Pink Floyd worked on their first album, "The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn". Now reissued on EMI's budget Fame label, it is without a doubt one of the most original debut rock albums of all time. Barrett's contribution is enormous, whether it's his aggressive guitar style cutting its way through the speakers (neatly summarised by Fred Frith as "A revolutionary source of electronic racket") or his highly recognisable rhythms of innocence captured on songs like "Scarecrow" and "Bike". Syd's songs recapture the enchantment of hearing fairytales for the first time - and just as in stories, anything was possible in his music. It is largely due to Syd's departure that the avenues explored on "Piper", in particular his pop sensibility, were jettisoned in favour of a more pro-faced approach.
MONO
Scholars of the Barrett approach to rock guitar would do well to seek out the mono mix of "Piper", which differs markedly in places from the more common stereo copies. But such pleasures don't come cheaply: be prepared to pay up to L18 for a Mint copy
Information in EMI's files indicate that at one stage, "Interstellar Overdrive" was cross-faded with "Bike", but this was abandoned in favour of blending it with "The Gnome".
U.S. copies on Tower substituted "Flaming" and "Astronomy Domine" with the band's first two singles, "Arnold Layne" and "See Emily Play", although some copies came out with only the latter. Originals are now worth L25. It has long been assumed that the version of "The Gnome" coupled with "Flaming" on a U.S. single is an alternate mix, but this has been thrown into doubt in recent years. Confirmation one way or the other would be most welcome.
In no doubt, however, is the collectability of the band's first three U.K. 45s complete with promo-only picture sleeves. "Arnold Layne" would fetch L175, while "Emily", in a Syd-penned cover, a mere L125. Picture sleeves were more common on the continent and bedecked many official releases at this time. However, some of these too are pricelessly rare, particularly a French EP containing "Arnold Layne", "Candy And A Currant Bun" and an edited version of "Interstellar Overdrive". In its sleeve, this is worth L150. German picture sleeve copies of "Arnold Layne" sell for L50, "Emily" for L35. Very popular with collectors is the French picture sleeve "Emily" with its black- and-white steam engine cartoon cover which also sells for L35 as does a four-track Japanese "Emily" EP. The train illustration (also allegedly fromn the hand of Barrett) appears again on the Dutch release, while perhaps most popular is the Italian sleeve which features the band in a psychedelic light show. But not all releases need boast a picture sleeve to command high prices: the Swiss "Emily", issued by Columbia in a 'Special Edition', is valued at 25 pounds.
By the time of the release of "The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn" in July 1967, "See Emily Play" had already established Pink Floyd as a highly promising singles band, just missing out on a Top 5 placing. However, the group - who still performed regularly on the underground circuit - seemed ill-at-ease with their new-found pop success. This is reflected in their search for a follow-up single.
CASKET
At the end of July, it was announced that either "Old Woman In A Casket" or "She Was A Millionaire" (both Barrett compositions) was to be the next 45. The latter had been recorded in May, during the "Piper" sessions and to this day remains unheard. "Old Woman In A Casket" turned out to be a line from "Scream Thy Last Scream" which, together with "Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun", were the band's first recordings after the completion of the album
The plans were shelved and, in the autumn, the group returned to an outside studio (i.e. non-EMI) and recorded "Jugband Blues" and "Remember A Day" as a possible 7" coupling. But when the third single finally appeared in November, it turned out to be Barrett's "Apples And Oranges", coupled with another new song, "Paintbox", written by Rick Wright. The record flopped but remains a lasting testament to Syd's unprecedented guitar style; his distorted wah-wah phrases pepper the song, and inevitably distract the listener from the melody. At the end of the track - the last recording with the band on which he made a significant contribution - Syd bows out with the howling feedback he'd just managed to retrain for the previous three minutes.
"Apples And Oranges" in the rarest of the band's early singles, although the promo-only picture sleeve copies can be picked up for L150 - slightly less than "Arnold Layne". A German picture sleeve release featured a picture of the band, surrounded by a green border, and sells for as much as 60 pounds.
In October, the band attempted a U.S. tour, but this "nightmare" (in the words of Rick Wright) was called to a halt after just eight days and they returned home. Syd's unpredictable behaviour seemed to be the main problem; something that was confirmed when Pink Floyd joined the Jimi Hendrix U.K. package tour. His habit of going AWOL meant that the Nice's Davy O'List had to step in on several occasions. At the 'Christmas On Earth' show at London's Olympia in December 1967, it was reported that Barrett failed to even touch his guitar and, two months later, Dave Gilmour was drafted in as a second guitarist to enable the band to function again. Pink Floyd made a couple of appearances as a five-piece, but it was painfully clear to all concerned that Syd was now a non-contributing accessory. Therefore it was no great surprise when, in April, came the official announcement that he had left the band
BAFFLED
When the second Pink Floyd album, "A Saucerful of Secrets", was released in June 1968, "Jugband Blues" was included as the closing track. Had it been released as the single, it undoubtedly would have baffled audiences, particularly the passage featuring the six-piece Salvation Army band whom Syd had instructed to play exactly what they wanted! On mono copies (again, worth in excess of L15), the vocals were mixed out halfway through the song, while the guitar featured more prominently. A Canadian mix differed yet again, with a fade at the end of the middle section
There is confusion about Syd's other contributions on the album. It is likely that the eerie slide guitar on "Remember A Day" was his, though rumours that he appeared on "Corporal Clegg" and "Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun" are probably unfounded. The case for the latter may be stronger - it formed part of the band's live repertoire as early as August 1967 - but Syd's presence is nowhere to be heard.
Unfortunately there are few good quality live or studio recordings hailing from Syd Barrett's days with Pink Floyd. Even the master tapes of their early BBC radio sessions have disappeared. Nevertheless, two superb outtakes, the aforementioned "Scream Thy Last Scream" and "Vegetable Man", are easily available as unofficial recordings. The latter, covered more recently by the Jesus and Mary Chain, is reminiscent of early Gong and it comes as no surprise that Daevid Allen (whose 'glissando' guitar technique owes much to Syd) used to perform with a picture of Barrett on his amp for inspiration. It is likely that "Vegetable Man" was recorded in at De Lane Lea Studios at the same time as "Jugband Blues" and "Remember A Day" in October 1967.
The group also recorded both "Scream" and "Vegetable Man" for their second BBC radio session on December 19th, 1967, along with "Jugband Blues" and "Pow R Toc H". Both tracks appear on the "Unforgotten Hero" bootleg, alongside radio sessions and the edited soundtrack version of "Interstellar Overdrive". The original pressing of this album came with a glossy photo of the band performing on "Top Of The Pops".
TAPES*As far as live recordings from this period go, a performance at the Star Club, Copenhagen from September 1967 is the most common, although tapes of a Rotterdam concert two months later aren't too hard to trace. One of the more interesting recordings is a pirate radio broadcast dating from July 1967. This consists of live recordings of "Reaction In G" and "Set The Controls" taken from a concert in Carlisle. On of the earliest recordings of the band comes from a Canadian radio broadcast at the end of 1966, which features a rare interview with the group interspersed with yet another lengthy version of "Interstellar Overdrive".
If permission was forthcoming and the footage readily available, there is certainly enough filmed material to compile a fascinating visual documentary of the band at their peak. For in addition to promotional films for songs like "Arnold Layne" and "Jugband Blues" and 'Top Of The Pops' appearances to promote "Emily", the band performed live on TV on several occasions. A clip of the band (probably performing "Interstellar Overdrive") at the UFO Club in January 1967 was broadcast in February, while they are known to have played "Astronomy Domine" on the late- night arts programme 'Look Of The Week'. Joe Boyd also has plenty of footage dating from the UFO days, but there is no indication that any of this will ever see the light of day.
When Syd Barrett left the Pink Floyd, the band's management team of Pete Jennet and Andrew King went with him. The group's booking fees had begun to slump and, at that time, none of the other band members had really established themselves as songwriters. No surprise, then, that the duo felt that Barrett was the better proposition. Between May and July 1968, Jenner produced Syd in the studio, which yielded no more than half-a- dozen tracks. Of these, only the skeleton of "Late Night" would surface on a later release. Judging by Malcolm Jones' comments in his excellent publication, 'Syd Barrett - The Making Of "The Madcap Laughs"', little of the material was worthy of release, although it did include an early version of "Golden Hair". Among material shelved was "Silas Lang" (alias "Swan Lee"), an 18- minute percussion piece called "Rhamadan" and another instrumental "Lanky Parts One and Two". Syd left these recordings unfinished and retreated to his sparsely furnished London flat.
Nothing much was heard from Syd until March 1969 when he contacted EMI expressing a wish to record once more. Because Floyd producer Norman Smith felt there would be a conflict of interests, he declined the offer to produce Syd; and so Malcolm Jones, who was in the process of setting up the Harvest label, took on the role. His booklet fully documents the sessions, and confirms the existence of several unreleased recordings worthy of release.
It appears that half of "The Madcap Laughs", Syd's debut solo offering, was recorded in April and May 1969 with Jones at the controls; the rest was completed on 12th and 13th June and 26th July with the Floyd's Roger Waters and Dave Gilmour handling production duties. Although it has been stated that EMI called a halt to the Jones sessions, and that Syd asked Gilmour and Waters to talk the company into paying for more studio time, Malcolm Jones refutes this. He wrote that EMI had already agreed to extend the project to an album and that Dave, free from recording commitments for the "Ummagumma" album, approached Syd with a view to producing the album.
STILTED
In fact, the finished album, released in January 1970, reflects the somewhat stilted recording process. Some cuts - like "No Good Trying" and "Love You" - were fleshed out by Mike Ratledge, Robert Wyatt and Hugh Hopper from the Soft Machine and featured a full band sound. "No Man's Land" and "Here I Go" found Syd accompanied by the sparser rhythm section of Jerry Shirley and John 'Willie' Watson; on the opening cut "Terrapin", Barrett provided his own accompaniment by making use of the multi-track facilities. A run of three songs on Side Two, "She Took A Long Cool Look", "Feel" and "If It's In You", came from the last recording session.
Many felt "The Madcap Laughs" charted the decline of a once- gifted writer of near-perfect pop songs into the realms of the insane mutterings of an acid casualty. Others like Roger Waters proclaimed Barrett a genius. It was clear that Syd's talent as a songwriter had not diminished, it was the context of these songs which had altered. The elaborate arrangements which had elevated songs like "Matilda Mother" and the Pink Floyd singles were nowhere to be found; neither was the improvisation on which the band had first built their reputation.
The album was characterised by a sparse, essentially acoustic sound, often with scant regard for established musical rules. If Syd wished to come in a bar early, he would. More offbeat than before, many of the songs like "Octopus", "No Good Trying", "No Man's Land" and "Terrapin" retained that Barrett magic and "The Madcap Laughs" remains a fine testament to Barrett's imaginative songwriting.
For contractual reasons, none of the musicians was credited on the sleeve which, incidently, was designed by Storm Thorgorson (an old friend of Syd's from Cambridge) and Aubrey Powell of Hipgnosis. The photos used were taken in Barrett's flat - Syd taking the trouble to paint his floorboards orange and purple for the occasion - and unlike the first two Floyd albums, the LP boasted a gatefold sleeve. Japanese copies are rumoured to feature an extended version of "Terrapin" (though no more than five seconds!), while a Mexican issue plumped for one of the photos which included both Syd and his female friend for the front cover.
Extremely rare is the single "Octopus" (originally known as "Clowns And Jugglers") which preceded the album and now commands a price of around L40. Demo copies credit the song to 'Syd Barratt' and sell for almost twice as much. Rarer still are the 10" EMIDISC acetates which have occasionally turned up on the collector's market. And most prized of all in the French issue of the single, which had a picture sleeve adorned with a Syd-like illustrations of the deep-sea creature. This is valued at nearer L200
By the end of February, Syd began work on a follow-up LP, "Barrett", which was completed and out before the end of 1970. More consistent in style than the first, the record is slightly marred by the arrangements which, more often than not, appear to be gratuitous attempts merely to fill out the sound. Occasionally, on "Rats" and "Baby Lemonade", this works well, but at times, it simply has the effect of making the songs sound pedestrian and ordinary; in fact, less like Syd and more like Wright (keyboards) and Gilmour (bass, drums, etc.) who jointly produced the album. Jerry Shirley and Willie Wilson again appear, while Vic Saywell played an effective tuba on "Effervescing Elephant", a song which, in common with "Golden Hair" from the first LP, dated back to Syd's teenage years.
Recording the album inspired Barrett to return to the stage for a one-off appearance at the 'Extravaganza '70 Music and Fashion Festival' held at the Olympia in June. Accompanied by Shirley (drums) and Gilmour (bass), he raced through four numbers before leaving the stage. It was less a comeback than a letdown.
Far more successful was his return to the BBC studios for a couple of radio sessions. One, now issued by Strange Fruit, included versions of three cuts from the latest LP, "Terrapin" and a previously unissued cut, "Two Of A Kind", written by Rick Wright
In the same year, it is widely believed that Syd collaborated with Kevin Ayers on a song called "Religious Experience" and there exists a 10" EMIDISC acetate which allegedly includes Barrett on guitar and vocals. However, when the song finally appeared officially as a single, retitled "Singing A Song In The Morning", his contribution was effectively mixed out. The song later appeared on Kevin's "Odd Ditties" compilation. It is also rumoured that the voice at the start of "Oleh Oleh Bandu Bandung" an Ayers' "Joy Of A Toy" album is Syd's, but this is unconfirmed. Kevin Ayers' "Bananamour" LP included "O Wot A Dream", a tribute to Syd, and original copies came with a Barrett photo
WITHDREW
After this period of activity, Syd withdrew from the public eye and nothing much was heard from him until early in 1972 when, together with Jack Monck (bass) and ex-Pink Fairy Twink (drums), he fronted the short-lived Cambridge outfit, Stars. An under- rehearsed debut at the Cambridge Corn Exchange supporting the MC5 was met with an audience walk-out. Those who stayed heard songs like "Baby Lemonade" and "Effervescing Elephant" from the solo LPs, plus "Lucifer Sam" and a couple of 12-bar blues. Undeterred, Stars continued to play a few local gigs but folded after Syd saw a review of one of their less flattering performances. It is widely believed that many rehearsals and performances were taped. Twink stated in a recent interview that a relative of the composer Leonard Bernstein recorded some of the concerts
Syd next entered the recording studios in 1972 but, according to journalist Peter Barnes, "He just kept on overdubbing guitar part on guitar part until it was just a chaotic mess." Pete Jenner tried to record Barrett two years later but it is likely that these three days spent in the studio produced little more than guitar backing tracks
As the prospect of new Barrett material seemed increasingly less likely as the years rolled on, EMI packaged the two solo records together in 1974 as a budget-priced double album simply titled "Syd Barrett". If this had the effect of introducing the Madcap to a younger generation of followers, it also aroused considerable debate concerning Syd's talent. Even the Floyd's Rick Wright, drunk on the success of "Dark Side Of The Moon", said of Barrett's songs, "I think they're appalling..musically, they're atrocious." And to many weaned on the symphonic rock of the early Seventies Floyd, Syd's compositions barely qualified as music. However, Pink Floyd included "Shine On You Crazy Diamond", their tribute to Syd, on "Wish You Were Here", released in 1975
When Nick Kent wrote his mammoth appraisal of Syd for 'NME' back in 1974, it was generally felt even then, that he would not return; and now, some 14 years on, that likelihood is never seriously discussed, even in diehard Barrett circles. But his name and his music have both been kept alive by musicians and fans alike. Since the demise of the "Terrapin" Barrett-zine in the mid-Seventies, the current decade has seen "Clowns And Jugglers", "Dark Globe" and "Opel" offering a forum for devotees. Musicians like Julian Cope, the Jesus and Mary Chain, This Heat, Mare Almond, Wire, David Bowie, the Soft Boys, and the T.V. Personalities have paid homage to the man's work, either in words, spirit or song
DEBT
Part of the debt owed to Syd by many of today's crop of psychedelia merchants was repaid last year with the release of "Beyond The Wildwood: A Tribute To Syd Barrett" (Imaginary Records, ILLUSION 001), where acts such as the Green Telescope, the Shamen, Plasticland and the Soup Dragons covered a variety of Barrett compositions
In addition to the "Unforgotten Hero" bootleg, several other Barrett items have been produced unofficially. "Tattooed" included BBC sessions, two songs from the Olympia performance and some fakes. "He Whom Laughs First" covered similar territory, while "Mystery Tracks" included material recorded with the Floyd at Copenhagen in September 1967
The ball is now firmly in EMI's court as far as the unissued Barrett material is concerned. In recent years, two items have appeared on the illicit market which confirm the existence of worthy material languishing in the vaults. The "Vinyl Sessions" EP boasted an alternate version of "Dark Globe", which is much slower (and, therefore, longer!) than the issued take, plus "Birdy Hop", "Milky Way" and "The Word Song". The latter trio are probably outtakes from the "Barrett" album, or possibly even later; and all three have more recently appeared on another unofficial release, "El Syd", a boxed set of two 7" singles issued in a plain white sleeve in a numbered edition of 200. "Birdy Hop" appears here in its entirety, while a fourth cut replaces "Dark Globe". This is the haunting "Opel", recorded on Syd's second day's work with Malcolm Jones in April 1969, and it remains one of Barrett's unissued masterpieces
The news that EMI have now located a true stereo mix of "Apples And Oranges" is bittersweet because the legal problems concerning the release of archive Pink Floyd material could well ensure that this, "Vegetable Man", "Scream Thy Last Scream" and "In The Beechwoods" remain in the vaults for the foreseeable future. However, much of the solo material recently made available on bootleg, plus alternate versions of "Love You", "She Took A Long Cold Look" and the original "Clowns And Jugglers" would almost certainly appear
While collectors continue to pay over the odds for Barrett rarities on the illicit market, it is regrettable that his record company have continued to blow hot and cold over the project, because everyone - including Barrett himself - loses out in the end. After some recent changes in personnel, we are assured that the "Rarities" package is, once again, on its way and should be with us by the end of the year. Whether "Dawn Of The Piper", the book written by Pete Anderson and Mike Watkinson, will ever see the light of day any sooner is also in the hands of the decision- makers; it appears there are difficulties regarding publishers
UNREAL
It is painfully evident that the adult world appeared too gruesome, too corrupt, and altogether too unreal for Syd Barrett
Thankfully he has left behind a fascinating legacy of recordings, almost all of which betray a yearning for the simplicities of childhood, a world inhabited by sequined fans, hopping birds and feathery tongs. Syd once told an interviewer, "I don't know if pop is an art form. I should think it is as much as sitting down is." But, Syd, doesn't it all depend on who's doing the sitting down ?!
PINK FLOYD and SYD BARRETT:
Record Collector Magazine, 1993
By Mark Paytress
Painting by Roger "Syd" BarrettMark Paytress examines the Floyd's early career, and the subsequent solo work of their erratic songwriter, vocalist and guitarist
In common with Brian Wilson, Captain Beefheart and Phil Spector, Syd Barrett is a musician whose work is often overshadowed by the myths that surround his personal life. Though this has elevated Barrett's status as one of rock's most enigmatic figures, it means that the erratic genius of his music often takes second place to a seemingly never-ending string of tales documenting his eccentric behaviour. But though interest in Barrett has always been keen, 1988 has been earmarked by fans as the year which will at last deliver some of his long-lost recordings. This promise has already been partially fulfilled with the released of Syd's 1970 'Top Gear' radio session of Strange Fruit Records; the much promised EMI album of unissued studio material is still in the pipeline
While we documented the full Pink Floyd story a couple of years back (issue 83), no appreciation of Syd Barrett would be complete without an assessment of his pioneering recordings with the Floyd. However, to avoid too much duplication, the emphasis this time will focus away from the official U.K. releases and instead highlight the unofficial recordings and foreign editions
Since he left Pink Floyd in spring 1968, Syd has spent much of his time in seclusion. A flurry of activity during 1969 and 1970 resulted in the release of two solo albums and a handful of live appearances, but since then, he has faded from the music scene completely. Jimmy Page, Brian Eno and his old friend from the UFO days Kevin Ayers have all tried unsuccessfully to coax him back, and despite occasional rumours - in 1984, a story went out that he had played live with Carla Bley in Germany - it is highly unlikely that Syd Barrett will make a return to either stage or recording studio
While at Cambridge School for Boys, the adolescent Roger 'Syd' Barrett kicked off his musical career on a second-hand banjo, though he quickly switched to acoustic guitar. Around 1962, he teamed up with local combo Geoff Mott and the Mottos, who specialised in Shadows' instrumentals interspersed with the occasional U.S. cover. After the group split, Syd discovered Bo Diddley, embraced the blues and switched to bass for a while. It is a common belief among Floyd fans that Dave Gilmour taught Syd some guitar licks during this period. The pair certainly hitched together to the South of France one summer
It was while studying Fine Art at Camberwell Art School that Syd first came into contact with the Abdabs, an R&B group made up of architectural students from Regent Street Polytechnic. One Abdab, Roger Waters, knew Barrett from Cambridge and before long Syd had joined on guitar, the band had narrowed down to a quartet and started to go by the name Pink Floyd. They were quick to develop their own sound and became instrumental in spearheading the U.K. psychedelic movement. Their stage shows began to incorporate slides and lights, while 12-bar standards gradually gave way to lengthy improvised pieces
By the time Pink Floyd entered the Sound Techniques studio on January and February 1967 with producer Joe Boyd, Syd had begun to write his own material. Two of his earliest compositions, "Arnold Layne" and "Candy And A Currant Bun", were coupled for the band's debut single although, to be fair, the flip was heavily derivative of Howlin' Wolf's "Smokestack Lightning". The sessions in Chelsea also produced an early recording of "Interstellar Overdrive", one of the band's most popular numbers where Barrett's riff (allegedly based on Love's version of Burt Bacharach's "My Little Red Book") gave way to a lengthy improvisational passage which defined the medium of the 'psychedelic jam' for years to come. This version later turned up on the soundtrack LP, "Tonite Let's All Make Love In London" (Instant INLP 002), albeit in a frustratingly truncated form. Although nine minutes of the track was spread throughout the movie, it was restricted to just three on the album.
Yet these sessions were not Pink Floyd's first forays into a recording studio. They had previously had an unsuccessful day at the studio of Thompson Recording Ltd., in Hemel Hempstead on 31st October 1966. It appears that "Candy And A Currant Bun" and "Stoned Again" (some say "Stoned Alone") were recorded. A poor quality recording of the former is in circulation, though it is more likely to hail from a rehearsal session.
Between February and July, Pink Floyd worked on their first album, "The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn". Now reissued on EMI's budget Fame label, it is without a doubt one of the most original debut rock albums of all time. Barrett's contribution is enormous, whether it's his aggressive guitar style cutting its way through the speakers (neatly summarised by Fred Frith as "A revolutionary source of electronic racket") or his highly recognisable rhythms of innocence captured on songs like "Scarecrow" and "Bike". Syd's songs recapture the enchantment of hearing fairytales for the first time - and just as in stories, anything was possible in his music. It is largely due to Syd's departure that the avenues explored on "Piper", in particular his pop sensibility, were jettisoned in favour of a more pro-faced approach.
MONO
Scholars of the Barrett approach to rock guitar would do well to seek out the mono mix of "Piper", which differs markedly in places from the more common stereo copies. But such pleasures don't come cheaply: be prepared to pay up to L18 for a Mint copy
Information in EMI's files indicate that at one stage, "Interstellar Overdrive" was cross-faded with "Bike", but this was abandoned in favour of blending it with "The Gnome".
U.S. copies on Tower substituted "Flaming" and "Astronomy Domine" with the band's first two singles, "Arnold Layne" and "See Emily Play", although some copies came out with only the latter. Originals are now worth L25. It has long been assumed that the version of "The Gnome" coupled with "Flaming" on a U.S. single is an alternate mix, but this has been thrown into doubt in recent years. Confirmation one way or the other would be most welcome.
In no doubt, however, is the collectability of the band's first three U.K. 45s complete with promo-only picture sleeves. "Arnold Layne" would fetch L175, while "Emily", in a Syd-penned cover, a mere L125. Picture sleeves were more common on the continent and bedecked many official releases at this time. However, some of these too are pricelessly rare, particularly a French EP containing "Arnold Layne", "Candy And A Currant Bun" and an edited version of "Interstellar Overdrive". In its sleeve, this is worth L150. German picture sleeve copies of "Arnold Layne" sell for L50, "Emily" for L35. Very popular with collectors is the French picture sleeve "Emily" with its black- and-white steam engine cartoon cover which also sells for L35 as does a four-track Japanese "Emily" EP. The train illustration (also allegedly fromn the hand of Barrett) appears again on the Dutch release, while perhaps most popular is the Italian sleeve which features the band in a psychedelic light show. But not all releases need boast a picture sleeve to command high prices: the Swiss "Emily", issued by Columbia in a 'Special Edition', is valued at 25 pounds.
By the time of the release of "The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn" in July 1967, "See Emily Play" had already established Pink Floyd as a highly promising singles band, just missing out on a Top 5 placing. However, the group - who still performed regularly on the underground circuit - seemed ill-at-ease with their new-found pop success. This is reflected in their search for a follow-up single.
CASKET
At the end of July, it was announced that either "Old Woman In A Casket" or "She Was A Millionaire" (both Barrett compositions) was to be the next 45. The latter had been recorded in May, during the "Piper" sessions and to this day remains unheard. "Old Woman In A Casket" turned out to be a line from "Scream Thy Last Scream" which, together with "Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun", were the band's first recordings after the completion of the album
The plans were shelved and, in the autumn, the group returned to an outside studio (i.e. non-EMI) and recorded "Jugband Blues" and "Remember A Day" as a possible 7" coupling. But when the third single finally appeared in November, it turned out to be Barrett's "Apples And Oranges", coupled with another new song, "Paintbox", written by Rick Wright. The record flopped but remains a lasting testament to Syd's unprecedented guitar style; his distorted wah-wah phrases pepper the song, and inevitably distract the listener from the melody. At the end of the track - the last recording with the band on which he made a significant contribution - Syd bows out with the howling feedback he'd just managed to retrain for the previous three minutes.
"Apples And Oranges" in the rarest of the band's early singles, although the promo-only picture sleeve copies can be picked up for L150 - slightly less than "Arnold Layne". A German picture sleeve release featured a picture of the band, surrounded by a green border, and sells for as much as 60 pounds.
In October, the band attempted a U.S. tour, but this "nightmare" (in the words of Rick Wright) was called to a halt after just eight days and they returned home. Syd's unpredictable behaviour seemed to be the main problem; something that was confirmed when Pink Floyd joined the Jimi Hendrix U.K. package tour. His habit of going AWOL meant that the Nice's Davy O'List had to step in on several occasions. At the 'Christmas On Earth' show at London's Olympia in December 1967, it was reported that Barrett failed to even touch his guitar and, two months later, Dave Gilmour was drafted in as a second guitarist to enable the band to function again. Pink Floyd made a couple of appearances as a five-piece, but it was painfully clear to all concerned that Syd was now a non-contributing accessory. Therefore it was no great surprise when, in April, came the official announcement that he had left the band
BAFFLED
When the second Pink Floyd album, "A Saucerful of Secrets", was released in June 1968, "Jugband Blues" was included as the closing track. Had it been released as the single, it undoubtedly would have baffled audiences, particularly the passage featuring the six-piece Salvation Army band whom Syd had instructed to play exactly what they wanted! On mono copies (again, worth in excess of L15), the vocals were mixed out halfway through the song, while the guitar featured more prominently. A Canadian mix differed yet again, with a fade at the end of the middle section
There is confusion about Syd's other contributions on the album. It is likely that the eerie slide guitar on "Remember A Day" was his, though rumours that he appeared on "Corporal Clegg" and "Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun" are probably unfounded. The case for the latter may be stronger - it formed part of the band's live repertoire as early as August 1967 - but Syd's presence is nowhere to be heard.
Unfortunately there are few good quality live or studio recordings hailing from Syd Barrett's days with Pink Floyd. Even the master tapes of their early BBC radio sessions have disappeared. Nevertheless, two superb outtakes, the aforementioned "Scream Thy Last Scream" and "Vegetable Man", are easily available as unofficial recordings. The latter, covered more recently by the Jesus and Mary Chain, is reminiscent of early Gong and it comes as no surprise that Daevid Allen (whose 'glissando' guitar technique owes much to Syd) used to perform with a picture of Barrett on his amp for inspiration. It is likely that "Vegetable Man" was recorded in at De Lane Lea Studios at the same time as "Jugband Blues" and "Remember A Day" in October 1967.
The group also recorded both "Scream" and "Vegetable Man" for their second BBC radio session on December 19th, 1967, along with "Jugband Blues" and "Pow R Toc H". Both tracks appear on the "Unforgotten Hero" bootleg, alongside radio sessions and the edited soundtrack version of "Interstellar Overdrive". The original pressing of this album came with a glossy photo of the band performing on "Top Of The Pops".
TAPES*As far as live recordings from this period go, a performance at the Star Club, Copenhagen from September 1967 is the most common, although tapes of a Rotterdam concert two months later aren't too hard to trace. One of the more interesting recordings is a pirate radio broadcast dating from July 1967. This consists of live recordings of "Reaction In G" and "Set The Controls" taken from a concert in Carlisle. On of the earliest recordings of the band comes from a Canadian radio broadcast at the end of 1966, which features a rare interview with the group interspersed with yet another lengthy version of "Interstellar Overdrive".
If permission was forthcoming and the footage readily available, there is certainly enough filmed material to compile a fascinating visual documentary of the band at their peak. For in addition to promotional films for songs like "Arnold Layne" and "Jugband Blues" and 'Top Of The Pops' appearances to promote "Emily", the band performed live on TV on several occasions. A clip of the band (probably performing "Interstellar Overdrive") at the UFO Club in January 1967 was broadcast in February, while they are known to have played "Astronomy Domine" on the late- night arts programme 'Look Of The Week'. Joe Boyd also has plenty of footage dating from the UFO days, but there is no indication that any of this will ever see the light of day.
When Syd Barrett left the Pink Floyd, the band's management team of Pete Jennet and Andrew King went with him. The group's booking fees had begun to slump and, at that time, none of the other band members had really established themselves as songwriters. No surprise, then, that the duo felt that Barrett was the better proposition. Between May and July 1968, Jenner produced Syd in the studio, which yielded no more than half-a- dozen tracks. Of these, only the skeleton of "Late Night" would surface on a later release. Judging by Malcolm Jones' comments in his excellent publication, 'Syd Barrett - The Making Of "The Madcap Laughs"', little of the material was worthy of release, although it did include an early version of "Golden Hair". Among material shelved was "Silas Lang" (alias "Swan Lee"), an 18- minute percussion piece called "Rhamadan" and another instrumental "Lanky Parts One and Two". Syd left these recordings unfinished and retreated to his sparsely furnished London flat.
Nothing much was heard from Syd until March 1969 when he contacted EMI expressing a wish to record once more. Because Floyd producer Norman Smith felt there would be a conflict of interests, he declined the offer to produce Syd; and so Malcolm Jones, who was in the process of setting up the Harvest label, took on the role. His booklet fully documents the sessions, and confirms the existence of several unreleased recordings worthy of release.
It appears that half of "The Madcap Laughs", Syd's debut solo offering, was recorded in April and May 1969 with Jones at the controls; the rest was completed on 12th and 13th June and 26th July with the Floyd's Roger Waters and Dave Gilmour handling production duties. Although it has been stated that EMI called a halt to the Jones sessions, and that Syd asked Gilmour and Waters to talk the company into paying for more studio time, Malcolm Jones refutes this. He wrote that EMI had already agreed to extend the project to an album and that Dave, free from recording commitments for the "Ummagumma" album, approached Syd with a view to producing the album.
STILTED
In fact, the finished album, released in January 1970, reflects the somewhat stilted recording process. Some cuts - like "No Good Trying" and "Love You" - were fleshed out by Mike Ratledge, Robert Wyatt and Hugh Hopper from the Soft Machine and featured a full band sound. "No Man's Land" and "Here I Go" found Syd accompanied by the sparser rhythm section of Jerry Shirley and John 'Willie' Watson; on the opening cut "Terrapin", Barrett provided his own accompaniment by making use of the multi-track facilities. A run of three songs on Side Two, "She Took A Long Cool Look", "Feel" and "If It's In You", came from the last recording session.
Many felt "The Madcap Laughs" charted the decline of a once- gifted writer of near-perfect pop songs into the realms of the insane mutterings of an acid casualty. Others like Roger Waters proclaimed Barrett a genius. It was clear that Syd's talent as a songwriter had not diminished, it was the context of these songs which had altered. The elaborate arrangements which had elevated songs like "Matilda Mother" and the Pink Floyd singles were nowhere to be found; neither was the improvisation on which the band had first built their reputation.
The album was characterised by a sparse, essentially acoustic sound, often with scant regard for established musical rules. If Syd wished to come in a bar early, he would. More offbeat than before, many of the songs like "Octopus", "No Good Trying", "No Man's Land" and "Terrapin" retained that Barrett magic and "The Madcap Laughs" remains a fine testament to Barrett's imaginative songwriting.
For contractual reasons, none of the musicians was credited on the sleeve which, incidently, was designed by Storm Thorgorson (an old friend of Syd's from Cambridge) and Aubrey Powell of Hipgnosis. The photos used were taken in Barrett's flat - Syd taking the trouble to paint his floorboards orange and purple for the occasion - and unlike the first two Floyd albums, the LP boasted a gatefold sleeve. Japanese copies are rumoured to feature an extended version of "Terrapin" (though no more than five seconds!), while a Mexican issue plumped for one of the photos which included both Syd and his female friend for the front cover.
Extremely rare is the single "Octopus" (originally known as "Clowns And Jugglers") which preceded the album and now commands a price of around L40. Demo copies credit the song to 'Syd Barratt' and sell for almost twice as much. Rarer still are the 10" EMIDISC acetates which have occasionally turned up on the collector's market. And most prized of all in the French issue of the single, which had a picture sleeve adorned with a Syd-like illustrations of the deep-sea creature. This is valued at nearer L200
By the end of February, Syd began work on a follow-up LP, "Barrett", which was completed and out before the end of 1970. More consistent in style than the first, the record is slightly marred by the arrangements which, more often than not, appear to be gratuitous attempts merely to fill out the sound. Occasionally, on "Rats" and "Baby Lemonade", this works well, but at times, it simply has the effect of making the songs sound pedestrian and ordinary; in fact, less like Syd and more like Wright (keyboards) and Gilmour (bass, drums, etc.) who jointly produced the album. Jerry Shirley and Willie Wilson again appear, while Vic Saywell played an effective tuba on "Effervescing Elephant", a song which, in common with "Golden Hair" from the first LP, dated back to Syd's teenage years.
Recording the album inspired Barrett to return to the stage for a one-off appearance at the 'Extravaganza '70 Music and Fashion Festival' held at the Olympia in June. Accompanied by Shirley (drums) and Gilmour (bass), he raced through four numbers before leaving the stage. It was less a comeback than a letdown.
Far more successful was his return to the BBC studios for a couple of radio sessions. One, now issued by Strange Fruit, included versions of three cuts from the latest LP, "Terrapin" and a previously unissued cut, "Two Of A Kind", written by Rick Wright
In the same year, it is widely believed that Syd collaborated with Kevin Ayers on a song called "Religious Experience" and there exists a 10" EMIDISC acetate which allegedly includes Barrett on guitar and vocals. However, when the song finally appeared officially as a single, retitled "Singing A Song In The Morning", his contribution was effectively mixed out. The song later appeared on Kevin's "Odd Ditties" compilation. It is also rumoured that the voice at the start of "Oleh Oleh Bandu Bandung" an Ayers' "Joy Of A Toy" album is Syd's, but this is unconfirmed. Kevin Ayers' "Bananamour" LP included "O Wot A Dream", a tribute to Syd, and original copies came with a Barrett photo
WITHDREW
After this period of activity, Syd withdrew from the public eye and nothing much was heard from him until early in 1972 when, together with Jack Monck (bass) and ex-Pink Fairy Twink (drums), he fronted the short-lived Cambridge outfit, Stars. An under- rehearsed debut at the Cambridge Corn Exchange supporting the MC5 was met with an audience walk-out. Those who stayed heard songs like "Baby Lemonade" and "Effervescing Elephant" from the solo LPs, plus "Lucifer Sam" and a couple of 12-bar blues. Undeterred, Stars continued to play a few local gigs but folded after Syd saw a review of one of their less flattering performances. It is widely believed that many rehearsals and performances were taped. Twink stated in a recent interview that a relative of the composer Leonard Bernstein recorded some of the concerts
Syd next entered the recording studios in 1972 but, according to journalist Peter Barnes, "He just kept on overdubbing guitar part on guitar part until it was just a chaotic mess." Pete Jenner tried to record Barrett two years later but it is likely that these three days spent in the studio produced little more than guitar backing tracks
As the prospect of new Barrett material seemed increasingly less likely as the years rolled on, EMI packaged the two solo records together in 1974 as a budget-priced double album simply titled "Syd Barrett". If this had the effect of introducing the Madcap to a younger generation of followers, it also aroused considerable debate concerning Syd's talent. Even the Floyd's Rick Wright, drunk on the success of "Dark Side Of The Moon", said of Barrett's songs, "I think they're appalling..musically, they're atrocious." And to many weaned on the symphonic rock of the early Seventies Floyd, Syd's compositions barely qualified as music. However, Pink Floyd included "Shine On You Crazy Diamond", their tribute to Syd, on "Wish You Were Here", released in 1975
When Nick Kent wrote his mammoth appraisal of Syd for 'NME' back in 1974, it was generally felt even then, that he would not return; and now, some 14 years on, that likelihood is never seriously discussed, even in diehard Barrett circles. But his name and his music have both been kept alive by musicians and fans alike. Since the demise of the "Terrapin" Barrett-zine in the mid-Seventies, the current decade has seen "Clowns And Jugglers", "Dark Globe" and "Opel" offering a forum for devotees. Musicians like Julian Cope, the Jesus and Mary Chain, This Heat, Mare Almond, Wire, David Bowie, the Soft Boys, and the T.V. Personalities have paid homage to the man's work, either in words, spirit or song
DEBT
Part of the debt owed to Syd by many of today's crop of psychedelia merchants was repaid last year with the release of "Beyond The Wildwood: A Tribute To Syd Barrett" (Imaginary Records, ILLUSION 001), where acts such as the Green Telescope, the Shamen, Plasticland and the Soup Dragons covered a variety of Barrett compositions
In addition to the "Unforgotten Hero" bootleg, several other Barrett items have been produced unofficially. "Tattooed" included BBC sessions, two songs from the Olympia performance and some fakes. "He Whom Laughs First" covered similar territory, while "Mystery Tracks" included material recorded with the Floyd at Copenhagen in September 1967
The ball is now firmly in EMI's court as far as the unissued Barrett material is concerned. In recent years, two items have appeared on the illicit market which confirm the existence of worthy material languishing in the vaults. The "Vinyl Sessions" EP boasted an alternate version of "Dark Globe", which is much slower (and, therefore, longer!) than the issued take, plus "Birdy Hop", "Milky Way" and "The Word Song". The latter trio are probably outtakes from the "Barrett" album, or possibly even later; and all three have more recently appeared on another unofficial release, "El Syd", a boxed set of two 7" singles issued in a plain white sleeve in a numbered edition of 200. "Birdy Hop" appears here in its entirety, while a fourth cut replaces "Dark Globe". This is the haunting "Opel", recorded on Syd's second day's work with Malcolm Jones in April 1969, and it remains one of Barrett's unissued masterpieces
The news that EMI have now located a true stereo mix of "Apples And Oranges" is bittersweet because the legal problems concerning the release of archive Pink Floyd material could well ensure that this, "Vegetable Man", "Scream Thy Last Scream" and "In The Beechwoods" remain in the vaults for the foreseeable future. However, much of the solo material recently made available on bootleg, plus alternate versions of "Love You", "She Took A Long Cold Look" and the original "Clowns And Jugglers" would almost certainly appear
While collectors continue to pay over the odds for Barrett rarities on the illicit market, it is regrettable that his record company have continued to blow hot and cold over the project, because everyone - including Barrett himself - loses out in the end. After some recent changes in personnel, we are assured that the "Rarities" package is, once again, on its way and should be with us by the end of the year. Whether "Dawn Of The Piper", the book written by Pete Anderson and Mike Watkinson, will ever see the light of day any sooner is also in the hands of the decision- makers; it appears there are difficulties regarding publishers
UNREAL
It is painfully evident that the adult world appeared too gruesome, too corrupt, and altogether too unreal for Syd Barrett
Thankfully he has left behind a fascinating legacy of recordings, almost all of which betray a yearning for the simplicities of childhood, a world inhabited by sequined fans, hopping birds and feathery tongs. Syd once told an interviewer, "I don't know if pop is an art form. I should think it is as much as sitting down is." But, Syd, doesn't it all depend on who's doing the sitting down ?!
Monday, June 1, 2009
keep it nice jangly (Syd Enhancements)
74 sessions or keep it nice jangly
Posted by: "AC et JG Royer" @ The Madcap Laughs Yahoo Group
Here's the link, apparently still active :
http://rapidshare. com/files/ 141359024/ keep_it_nice_ jangly.rar. html
This was (1993) an attempt to do what Gilmour did in 1970 when producing Syd's second lp, i.e. take what Syd had to offer and make it a bit thicker: I simply took some of the 1969 or 1970 demos and overdubbed them.
-"Love you" becomes a dirty glam rock number (Syd apparently loved Slade).
-"Dominoes" a jazzy one (he is rumoured to have played nice jazz licks with Jack Bruce at an impromptu 1972 gig).
-"Rats" gets a heavy metal treatment (some of the 1974 ramblings veer towards just that).
-"Word" song is adorned with psychedelic tapestries.
-"It is obvious" is intended to sound like a rehearsal with Stars (I mean, what I imagine it would have sounded like).
-And last but not least, "No good trying" is what a loose-jamming Pink Floyd could have come up with if they'd still been with Syd in 1969.
All of this is done in a very unprofessional way (how else could it have been?), but as faithfully as can be. In other words, it's very personal, and was not originally intended to be shared (no world wide web back then). You might therefore be taken aback by the looseness of it all, its lofi aspect, and most of all, the fact that I used those demos as palimpsest. A bit like using the Dead Sea scrolls for fish and chips if you like...
What I'd really be interested in, is if some of us could have a go at the same thing, if we could offer a collection of remodelings of Syd's own recordings : that'd be a groove, wouldn't it?
kind regards
JG
Posted by: "AC et JG Royer" @ The Madcap Laughs Yahoo Group
Here's the link, apparently still active :
http://rapidshare. com/files/ 141359024/ keep_it_nice_ jangly.rar. html
This was (1993) an attempt to do what Gilmour did in 1970 when producing Syd's second lp, i.e. take what Syd had to offer and make it a bit thicker: I simply took some of the 1969 or 1970 demos and overdubbed them.
-"Love you" becomes a dirty glam rock number (Syd apparently loved Slade).
-"Dominoes" a jazzy one (he is rumoured to have played nice jazz licks with Jack Bruce at an impromptu 1972 gig).
-"Rats" gets a heavy metal treatment (some of the 1974 ramblings veer towards just that).
-"Word" song is adorned with psychedelic tapestries.
-"It is obvious" is intended to sound like a rehearsal with Stars (I mean, what I imagine it would have sounded like).
-And last but not least, "No good trying" is what a loose-jamming Pink Floyd could have come up with if they'd still been with Syd in 1969.
All of this is done in a very unprofessional way (how else could it have been?), but as faithfully as can be. In other words, it's very personal, and was not originally intended to be shared (no world wide web back then). You might therefore be taken aback by the looseness of it all, its lofi aspect, and most of all, the fact that I used those demos as palimpsest. A bit like using the Dead Sea scrolls for fish and chips if you like...
What I'd really be interested in, is if some of us could have a go at the same thing, if we could offer a collection of remodelings of Syd's own recordings : that'd be a groove, wouldn't it?
kind regards
JG
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)