Barrett, Seer of Visions

“His head did no thinking, his arms didn’t move.”

Syd Barrett: vocals, guitar, principle songwriter

David Gilmour: 12-string guitar, bass, slide, some organ/drums

Rick Wright: keys, harmonium, celeste

Hugh Hopper, Willie Wilson: bass

Jerry Shirley: drums

Guest: Vic Saywell, tuba on “Effervescing Elephant

Produced by David Gilmour and Rick Wright

art by Syd Barrett

This is part two of a two-part review. Click here to read part one.

In order to understand how Barrett came to be, we have to go back in our timeline a little bit. Just before The Madcap Laughs was completed in July 1969, Syd took an impromptu trip to Spain. (He nearly missed his flight; running onto the tarmac to chase the plane as it taxied out to the runway! Once staff said something akin to, “Oh shit, that’s the guy from Pink Floyd,” they radio’d the pilot and hauled out the airstairs again just for him.) After a brief stay in Ibiza, Syd wound up in Formentera. This brief vacation revived his creativity; there he wrote Wined and Dined.

He also headed out to Isle of Wight with his girlfriend at the time Gala; I’ve included the photo of them in the crowd. No matter where Syd is or what he looks like, your eye just goes straight to him.

pictured: Syd Barett (green shirt, insane bone structure,) with I believe his girlfriend at the time Gala?

Just after Madcap’s release in January, Syd played session man for the Soft Machine’s very own “Syd Barrett” figure, Kevin Ayers. Syd’s track for “Singing a Song In the Morning” wasn’t used, but his playing style definitely was. On February 24th, he played a John Peel session with ex-bandmates and soon-to-beBarrett producers David Gilmour and Rick Wright. These very early versions of Barrett material – Gigolo Aunt wasn’t even done yet! – the vibe was a lot more Tyrannosaurus Rex than 1970 Pink Floyd.

Soon, EMI calculated that Madcap sold well enough to warrant a follow-up. Syd returned to the studio that month; recording “Maisie” first. As far as production was concerned, Barrett was a more consistent effortthan Madcap. It took about half the time with half the personnel changes; much less stressful for Syd. Daviddid most of the production work, on top of playing guitar and bass. Having him on board was a strategic choice: by all accounts, he was really the only one who could get through to Syd at this time. He had the patience to run through many takes, even if the first one was usually the viable one. He re-employed the “topsy-turvy” method – having Syd cut his tracks first, then David directing the rest of the band through the “backing” track – or having the whole band learn a song from Syd’s demo and trying their best to cut it live. And unlike Madcap, which took three bands to make, there was one consistent group playing the whole LP.

This would be no walk in the enchanted forest. For one, Barrett’s production timeline was just as messy as its predecessor’s. Production had to stop and start a lot because of scheduling conflicts with Floyd; namely Atom Heart Mother production.

And, of course, there was the matter of Syd himself. In interview with Pink Floyd and Syd Barrett Story director John Edginton, drummer Jerry Shirley describes in great detail the struggle it was to get him to record much more than three minutes of music. The false starts we heard on Madcap numbers like “She Took A Long Cold Look” and “If It’s In You” were getting more common. Sometimes, a song would have to be painstakingly stitched together from multiple takes; Dominoes is an example of this. Rick Wright described making Barrett as “interesting, but extremely difficult...it was just trying to help Syd any way we could, rather than worrying about getting the best guitar sound. You could forget about that! It was just going into the studio and trying to get him to sing.”

If it bears repeating, Syd was not in good shape at this time. Some days were great, like when they cut “Gigolo Aunt.” Others were not. Without details as I feel it’d be disrespectful, his ability to communicate was breaking down. Rick summarized the dilemma:

“Inside his head, he was still thinking these great lyrics. I could never understand the fact that he could come up with these great lyrics still, but everyday life was impossible for him.”

quoted from: Julian Palacios, Syd Barrett and Pink Floyd: Dark Globe. 2010.

On June 6th, 1970, Syd appeared on the bill of the Extravaganza Music and Fashion Festival. Backed by David Gilmour and Jerry Shirley, they got through “Terrapin,” “Gigolo Aunt,” and Effervescing Elephant. The setwas marred by technical difficulties. The PA stopped working, no one could hear each other, it was a shitshow. After “Octopus,” Syd just...walked off stage. No freakout, no frustration. He just left. This would be his last performance as a solo artist.

pictured: Syd, at the Extravaganza Music and Fashion Fest

Barrett production concluded late July; with two of the last songs songs Syd ever recorded: “Word Song,” eventually included on the Opel compilation, and “Mind Shot,” later retitled to It Is Obvious. The album was to be out in November, with a fraction of the hype Madcap had.

Syd guested with the Last-Minute Put-Together Boogie Band, then played a couple shows as Willy & Barrett. After expressing the desire to multiple times in interview, he finally formed Stars. They played a handful of gigs, mostly as support for the MC5. After a gig at Cambridge Corn Exchange (of which A Very Irregular Head author Rob Chapman was in attendance) was ripped to shreds in Melody Maker, Stars folded.People tried to get Syd into the studio in 1974, it didn’t work out.

Dark Globe author Julian Palacios identified Chapter 24 of the I-Ching – which Syd named a song after – as the chapter of returning to the village. The comfort of going back to your childhood home. Likewise, in astrology, 24 is a first house prefection year. A return to the self. At age 24, Syd returned to Cambridge, where he’d spend most of the rest of his life. He went back to using his birth name Roger. Amidst continued struggles with his mental health, he dedicated himself to painting, gardening, photography, and furniture-making. He kept to himself, turning away most any interview requests. His music career was over. Syd Barrett the rock star was over.

It’s hard not to be haunted by what Barrett became, especially when you yourself have a “Syd” figure in your life. There’s one important piece of context which dictates how I approach everything surrounding this man and his work. Out of the 120-something episodes of Vinyl Monday I’ve made, there are only a few that are “essential.” Wish You Were Here is one of them. Without going back there, I will say I have an intimate understanding of the half-absence (physical presence but mental absence) Pink Floyd articulated onthat album.

You can imagine all of this is close to home for me. This project, Barrett especially, dredged up some deep-seeded shit from the bottom of the river. I avoided it for weeks. Even now, listening to this album feels wrong. Peter Jenner expressed exactly why I was reluctant to delve into Barrett:

“There’s a certain ghoulishness about people’s enjoyment of (these albums.) There’s some good stuff in there if you know where to dig, and no disrespect to Dave and Roger who were trying to do something good, but it wasn’t what I’d heard in the studio and it was a shadow of the Syd I knew. He was such a delightful and charming person. That’s why we were all so upset when the fog set in.”

quoted from: Rob Chapman, A Very Irregular Head: The Life of Syd Barrett. 2010 ed.

I do not understand how people prefer this album over Madcap. This sounds like there was a vampire that sucked up all of Syd’s remaining joy, fun, and whimsy; his three best qualities. Only drops remain of that remain: “Dominos,” “Elephant,” etc. There’s a cognitive dissonance within this album. The same band plays the whole way through, so it is more sonically cohesive than Madcap. The instrumentation is fleshed-out, bringing more dimension to the material.

But it just feels...wrong. The music tries so hard to bring the lyrics and delivery alive. Sometimes it works. Sometimes everything is alive at once! Barrett has some of Syd’s best work. But you’ve also got stuff that sounds like a dirge. “Maisie” especially, but I’m skipping ahead, that’s for the track-by-track breakdown.

According to Jerry Shirley, “Other than Dylan and Lennon, there wasn’t a whole lot of people writing from the abstract; using words for words’ sake.” As we heard in Madcap, that’s what made Syd’s writing special. Baby Lemonade is quite abstract, but the imagery is no less haunting. Really allow yourself to feel the images Syd presents in the first lines: “In the sad town, cold iron hands/Clap the party of clowns outside/Rain falls in gray, far away” Likewise, I can’t put my finger on what exactly the central plea of, “Please, please, baby lemonade” is meant to get at, but I could tell you it’s bittersweet. “Baby,” sweet. “Lemonade,” sour. Later, “You’re nice to me like ice.” That’s not very nice at all! There’s a repeated motif of imprisonment: “Send a cage through the post/Make your name like a ghost.” I had to look this up, but “clap in irons” from the first verse is old slang for throwing someone in jail. Syd borders on the surreal when he beckons, “In the clock they sent through a washing machine/Come around, make it soon…” These obfuscated, bleak lyrics and Syd’s chanting delivery are contrasted by some of the finest musicianship on the album. Contrary to popular belief, that gainful, arpeggiated solo in the beginning wasn’t David! It was Syd warming up! This insistent liveliness is spooky.

Spookier is the harmonium on Love Song...but that might just be because my only context for harmonium is this:

Setting Nico aside for a moment, “Love Song’”s harmonium mimics an accordion – a stereotypically romantic instrument. This song is lyrically quite sparse; mostly an instrumental. Rick Wright contributes lovely piano, the key change is a point of interest. That’s really all.

We bounce back with another one of the best songs in Syd’s discography, “Dominoes.” This tune dates back to 1967. David really wanted Syd to do all the guitars on this one, but take after take just wasn’t happening. I’m not sure what compelled him to do it, but David resorted to running the playback mechanism backwards. Somehow, Syd nailed the next take. A backwards take, no less!! Now that I know the story of the backwards guitar, it’s even more impressive. Backwards solos are difficult to reverse-engineer, just ask George Harrison. It’s a thin and sharp textural point in “Dominoes’”s haze; spreading out from Rick’s organ like dripping salt on wet watercolors. The rhythm section anchors the solid air: Rick, David, and Jerry are MVPs of Barrett. I love their subtle phrasings and fills, giving body to what might otherwise be hollow Syd’s lyrics reminisce on wasting the days away carefree, “You and I and dominoes.” Where “Love You” was Syd’s goofy romantic side and “Terrapin” was so lovesick you can’t stand up, “Dominoes” looks back forlorn. “It’s an idea, someday/In my tears, my dreams…”

It was difficult for me to set the fact that “It Is Obvious” might’ve been the last song Syd ever recorded aside. Where Madcap had songs about a relationship breakdown because one lover was unfaithful or not being true to themselves, the relationship of “It Is Obvious” is much darker. I’ll be 100% honest, after reading accounts of Syd’s violent relationship breakdowns in Julian Palacios’s Dark Globe, I wish I hadn’t looked into the lyrics of this song. Syd was never explicitly autobiographical in his writing. But “Obvious” comes very, very close.

After the resigned observation, “It is obvious, I must say, oh baby,” we’re confronted by images of lurking around a shared home. “I can creep into cupboards, sleep in the hall,” later, “Creep into bed when your head’s on the ground.” This song is littered with images of an ugly relationship breakdown; physical stagnation, emotional dysfunction, even verbal abuse. The lovers in the song shout at each other: “The louder your lips to a loud hailer...” Again, I had to look this up, but a hailer is another word for a bullhorn. “It is written on the brambles, stranded on the spikes/My blood red, oh listen...” The narrator is bleeding himself dry over this. These two are terrible for each other, but in the narrator’s mind, they deserve each other. “Our minds shot together, so equally over a valley a hill.”

Where “It Is Obvious” was sheepish, resigned to the fate of tainted love, Rats is sneering, mocking. “That’s love, yeah yeah yeah yeah.” This love’s gone so low, it’s with the rats. Where much of this record has felt detached, “Rats” feels active with louder, more aggressive instruments, and a more rock-oriented sound. Given all the folk stuff I’ve heard these past few weeks, I’ve at times forgotten that Syd was a rhythm and blues guy. He named his band after two blues men. So much of his playing style can be traced back to something Bo Diddley did. Bleak as this lyricism is, I am pleased by this return to form – wonderful as his discography is, it at times has me craving an electric guitar.

The bleakness does not end; it only intensifies with “Maisie.” This is the most heavily-sedated blues I have ever heard. It plods along, at the very bottom of Syd’s vocal range. With every passing measure, I feel like the air’s being sucked out of the room. The tension is high and I have to crawl on the floor for oxygen...or I took way too deep of a toke and I feel like I’m gonna throw up.

“Gigolo Aunt” is the catchiest song about a sex worker I’ve heard since “Roxanne.”

It’s a relief to have some of Syd’s bounciness and tongue-in-cheek humor back: “Will you please keep on the track? ’Cause I almost want you back.” I can’t help but wonder if “will you please keep on the track” was a subtle dig at everyone in the studio trying to get him to sing a song the same way twice! That just wasn’t how he worked, even in the Piper days. What exactly a “gigolo aunt” is is up for much debate. Is she the employer of a gigolo? Is she the aunt of a gigolo? Is this a crossdressing gigolo?? Nevermind the meaning. This is the bestband chemistry on the whole album; the best keys and guitar by a mile. Jerry Shirley said he was astonished by this take. This was one of those rare moments where everything came together. No one was about to step off this current! “Gigolo Aunt” being the longest song on Barrett is evidence.

Waving My Arms in the Air and I Never Lied To You go by so fast, I almost miss them. I feel bad, because I do enjoy them. “Everything I knew I tried with you, but everything to you was never easy.” This line and the one to follow are loaded. The narrator reveals their whole self to their partner, then comes to know this was a burden on them. On the other side, I see two people living a whole life together. The good days, the bad, everything in between. Having that much history can be corrosive on a relationship. “So I went ahead around my world, I saw the things you do/Arriving by your side to see you looking, too...” The narrator has put themselves in their partner’s shoes, realizing after all this, it’s time to let go. But by the end of all this process, our narrator loses themselves. “Why am I here? What’s meant to be?”

“Wined and Dined” was written in sunny summery Spain and you can tell. Light instrumentation with tambourine and shimmering delay on the guitar. Images of good food, wine, a nice girl, and the summer...hold the fuck up is that a kazoo? Speaking of the kazoo: I swear to god, Rick plays the brass band’s chord progression from “Jugband Blues” in “I Never Lied To You!” Listen for yourselves below. I haven’t seen this observation anywhere else, so I want to know if we’re onto something here.

Wolfpack was another one of Syd’s favorites; possessing an assertiveness and ferocity unique among this album’s cuts. “Maisie” was menacing like this, but more outwardly insidious. Feedback? I thought I’d never hear you again! I was wondering if we would hear Syd’s fabulous shouting higher range ever again. I’m thankful to hear him stretch himself to these heights one last time. “Magnesium, proverbs, and sobs” is some expert-level word assemblage.

“Effervescing Elephant” is one of Syd’s oldest songs, dating as far back as 1964. Like Michelle was Paul McCartney’s party song, Elephant was Syd’s. As the story goes, recording this one was a doozy. When tuba player Vic Saywell got into the studio, he refused to play anything that wasn’t written out on sheet music. Syd wanted more tuba, like eight bars. But there wasn’t eight bars written, there were only three. Neither David nor Syd could write music, so they were shit out of luck. Determined to bring Syd’s vision come to life, David spent the better part of three hours writing and rewriting that damn tuba part until it sounded somewhat right.

Finally, after 35 minutes of the awful, awful crawl, the whimsy has returned; in the form of Vic’s quote fromCarnival of the Animals. When I hear that tuba I just get the biggest dumbest grin on my face. Because in my mind’s eye – I know this probably isn’t how it happened, it was probably very frustrating but this is my optimist’s imagination craving something happy from this LP – I see David writing and rewriting thatgoddamn tuba part, and every time he gets it wrong, him and Syd burst out laughing in the booth. I hear Syd’s smile as he sings this. Especially through “But all in vain, because you see/The tiger came and said, ‘who me? You know I wouldn’t hurt not one of you!” Syd’s quite tickled by these anthropomorphic animals. So am I. I miss this Syd. I miss him a lot. God bless David Gilmour. He loved his friend so much and made these two albums happen for him. If not for him, neither Madcap or Barrett would’ve been brought to completion.

As far as outtakes go across both albums, I wish “Opel” and “Dolly Rocker” had made the cut. The former is a wiley six minute remnant of psychedelic Syd. The latter is a cutesy and longing tune about a girl who wears Dollyrocker dresses; it would’ve made good company for “Gigolo Aunt” and “Elephant.” “Dolly” is lovely vocal performance by Syd, more impassioned than a lot of the stuff on Barrett. “Let’s Split” is another standout; a breakup song for either an ex-girlfriend or his fiancee.

Rob Chapman points out that Syd was 22 when he started recording Madcap, and by 24 he’d left the studio for the last time. What we hear here is such a small window of one man’s life. If you love Syd, listening to his joy wither away will rob you of some of yours. Nevertheless, I am deeply grateful that he gave us this much. To lob out this many great songs: “See Emily Play,” “Matilda Mother,” “Bike,” “Jugband,” “Terrapin,” “Love You,” “Golden Hair,” “If It’s In You,” “Baby Lemonade,” “Dominoes,” “It Is Obvious.” All of that in threeyears. That’s incredible.

Syd is largely remembered as of the great “acid casualties” of the ’60s. Think Peter Green of Fleetwood Mac, Skip Spence of Moby Grape and the Airplane, arguably Brian Wilson? But Syd’s legacy extends much farther than that. In life, I believe there are spells you don’t know you cast. This soft-spoken Cambridge-boy-turned-rock-star-turned-hermit-painter cast quite a long shadow. For one, he started something so much bigger than him, Pink Floyd. One of the few things Roger and David agree on these days is Syd’s music! Syd’s influence reaches far and wide. Bands like the Gigolo Aunts named themselves after his songs, and Television Personalities immortalized him in the so-twee-it-hurts “I Know Where Syd Barrett Lives.”

Syd’s influence extends to punk; bands like Wire and the Minutemen adopted his angular manner of guitar playing. Glam took his psychedelic penchant for bright colors and satin and ran with it. So did the paisley underground who aren’t mentioned nearly enough in this conversation! Neither is shoegaze. Slowdive released their cover of “Golden Hair” on the Holding Our Breath EP. Every set they played in their original run, and nearly every set since they reunited, they’ve closed with “Golden Hair.” That’s a 35-year legacy right there. We can’t forget Britpop: Graham Coxon of Blur is such an outspoken devotee he wrote the foreword of A Very Irregular Head. Syd had a cult following within the indie pop boom of the 2000s. Andrew Vanwyngarten of MGMT was in Have You Got It Yet? (I might get heat for this but I hear Syd’s rawer moments in Neutral Milk Hotel.)

Nearly 60 years down the line, we’re still contemplating Syd. It’s not hard to see why. He was smart, sociable, likeable, interesting, talented in multiple disciplines, attractive. He had the world in the palm of his hand. Even in death, he’s magnetic. He’s still a person you just want to know about. He’s unforgettable. At the same time, he was a normal guy, just like you or me. When people make you out to be some psychedelic messiah, of course you’re gonna falter. When you take that much acid and that many pills in such a short amount of time before your frontal lobe is fully-developed? There’s only one way that’s gonna go. No man is infallible, not even the mighty Syd Barrett. He was no saint, but he was a man with talent.

A user called Ricochet on the Prog Archives said this in their Madcap review: “Nobody just starts listening to a Syd Barrett album ‘for the heck of it.’ Know what I mean? Nobody sees the name “Syd Barrett”...and goes, ‘Hmm, he sounds interesting. Think I’ll pick up this here Opel album.’” I was fairly interested in Syd’s work before this. I knew of him through Pink Floyd. I dipped my toe in for the heck of it, but of course I was aware of the myth. I thought I was immune to it. Through this project, I’ve fallen under Syd’s spell. I try not to get my heart this close to music I cover, but I can’t help it! There’s something enchanting about him. His work is tailor-made to pore over. Just tangible enough to wander through, just opaque enough to evade you. Once you let the man’s music into your life, it’s only a matter of time before you get caught up in the chase of the man...or whoever you envision him to be.

As it stands, to us fans, Syd Barrett a ghost with as many faces as there are people who ponder him. Why does he haunt this way? I can’t speak for you all, but after digging into his music, I am left with far more questions than answers. We know the beginning of the story. We want so desperately to be able to changethe end. And we know nothing in the middle. Was he a genius? Was he the archetypal 60s drug casualty? Did he lose his mind? Did he come to hate the music industry and play an elaborate prank to get out? Or was he just bored with it all, longing to live a simple life with his garden and his paintings? In the past couple months, I’ve found all of the above to be, in part, true. But none of it feels like resolution. After watching Have You Got It Yet? for the first time, I sat on my bed and cried. Why him? Then I wrote the following about this experience: “I reach out and I want so desperately to be met with a hand, an answer, anything. But nothing ever reaches back.”

Syd’s mercurial specter hangs over everything surrounding him. It’s no wonder his friends could not stop writing about him. They were trying to make sense of him, too! I had trouble making sense of this. What I’m feeling, how close I should get. When I get caught in the River Styx I go searching for answers in anthologies. Chances are I’ll find a completely unrelated quote that speaks to what I’m doing. From Lester Bangs’s essay about The Marble Index,

“There’s a ghost born every second, and if you let the ghosts take your guts by sheer force of numbers you haven’t got a chance, though probably no one has a right to judge you either. (Besides which, the ghosts are probably as scared of you as you are of them.)”

quoted from: Lester Bangs, “Your Shadow Is Scared of You: An Attempt Not to Be Frightened by Nico.” Main Lines, Blood Feasts, and Bad Taste: A Lester Bangs Reader. edited by John Morthland, 2003.

Over and over again in books and films, I heard the words “beautiful” and “together” used to describe Syd at his best. Even after everything I know now, the Syd I will carry with me in my heart – if I’ve still got mine, because he’s made off with it! – will be him at his best. Crafter of unique melodies and unusual chord structures. Master of ambiance. Brilliant lyricist. An artist, through and through, doing the goofy, dark, and strange in the name of creation. I don’t see him as an acid casualty, tragic hero, or madman. I see a man. Acurious, sensitive soul who dared to have the imagination of a child well into his adult years, and possessedthe wisdom of a seer in his youth. Beautiful and together.

I forgot to conclude that quote from a few chapters ago:

“I don’t think I’m easy to talk about. I’ve got a very irregular head. And I’m not anything that you think I am anyway.”

At the end of it all, no matter who you are, when you are, or what you are, Syd Barrett will always have the last laugh.

Personal favorites: “Baby Lemonade,” “Gigolo Aunt,” “Wolfpack,” “Effervescing Elephant”

– AD ☆

Watch the full episode above!

Bangs, Lester. “Your Shadow Is Scared of You: An Attempt Not to Be Frightened by Nico.” as published in Main Lines, Blood Feasts, and Bad Taste: A Lester Bangs Reader. Edited by John Morthland, 2003.

Blake, Mark. “Broken China: Part Three: Syd, Drugs, the Future.” 8/1996. https://richardwright.net/richard_wright_articles/richard-wright-interview-896-mark-blake/#PART%20THREE%20-%20SYD,%20DRUGS,%20THE%20FUTURE

Bogawa, Roddy, and Storm Thorgerson, dir. Have You Got It Yet? The Syd Barrett Story. 2023.

Boyd, Joe. White Bicycles: Making Music in the 1960s. London: Serpents Tail, 2006.

Chapman, Rob. A Very Irregular Head: The Life of Syd Barrett. Boston: Da Capo, 2012 ed.

Dadomo, Giovanni. “The Madcap Speaks.” Terrapin no. 9/10, 7/1974. https://www.sydbarrett.net/subpages/articles/madcap_speaks_terrapin.htm

Edginton, John, dir. The Pink Floyd and Syd Barrett Story. Otmoor Productions, BBC Two, 11/24/2001.

Palacios, Julian. Syd Barrett and Pink Floyd: Dark Globe. London: Plexus Publishing, 2010.

“Syd Barrett The Madcap Laughs” 8/8/2021. https://classicrockreview.wordpress.com/2021/08/08/syd-barrett-the-madcap-laughs-1970/