Inside Me I Feel...

by Dennis Howie

I've often been asked what it is I like about Syd Barrett... or more specifically, Syd Barrett's music. I'd like to be able to come up with a quick yet definitive answer, but that's just not possible (at least for me). I'd like to say that it can't be explained in words, that it's something you have to listen to in order to understand, but that doesn't work, either. In my experience, most people who listen to any of Syd's solo stuff for the first few times time, including many Floyd fans, find it incomprehensible at best, and unlistenable at worst.

If I were to try to introduce someone who had never heard Syd's solo stuff before to his music, I'd go for the shock value of an all-out assault. Pulling out The Madcap Laughs, I'd first spin "If It's in You", and let it roll right into "Late Night". To me, the juxtaposition of those two tunes provides a contrast that tells the tale of Syd Barrett. The former shows just how far gone Syd actually was when he left Pink Floyd; the latter provides a glimpse of the raw talent Syd had. Together they stir a sense of loss... mourning for what Syd (and his music) could have been, if only....

Ah, yes... IF ONLY. That's an incredible speculation. Where would Pink Floyd be today if Syd had not suffered his breakdown? David Gilmour would (most likely) never have been part of the band. Syd would have remained the lead writer/singer, and who knows where he might have led the band? Roger Waters may still have eventually asserted himself and led the band in some direction parallel to the one it took, but would we have Dark Side of the Moon? Or would Syd's vision and genius have led Pink Floyd on to things even greater than what was achieved in his absence? Obviously these are questions we'll never be able to answer. But they are intriguing to think about.

Peter Jenner remembers the first time he saw Floyd playing in the Roundhouse. He wandered all around the stage, wondering where all the sound he was hearing was coming from. He couldn't believe that only four guys were doing it by themselves. Syd had a musical vision that was unusual even for the late sixties. Where would that vision had led him today? Unfortunately, we'll never know.

Although we'll never know what Syd might have accomplished in the world of Rock if he had pulled himself through his breakdown, we can still ponder some of the things he did accomplish. There are many guitarists who have been influenced by Syd. Innovative use of feedback, looping, layering, backtracking, unusual chord progressions, improvising around a single note or chord are all areas in which Syd broke ground in one way or another. Listen to "Interstellar Overdrive". Who else was doing that kind of stuff in those days?

So what do we have to define Syd by? We have his recorded work with Pink Floyd, as well as an interesting collection of solo material. Piper at the Gates of Dawn has been hailed by many as a true classic of the 60's psychedelic scene. Barrett, The Madcap Laughs, Opel, and The Peel Session recordings provide us with a wealth of material to wade through. None of it will ever get any airplay other than during Syd Barrett retrospectives or daring Pink Floyd radio shows... but we can keep the music alive in our hearts, minds, and ears. It's just a shame that we'll most likely never have any new Syd Barrett material to enjoy.

Am I lamenting an indefinable loss? Yes. When I think of what we lost with Syd's breakdown, I feel a sense of loss. When I think of what Syd lost, I sometimes want to break down myself and cry. To see such raw talent... such a marvelous musician literally dissolve... it's a shame. It leaves a feeling inside me that I don't like, but a feeling I don't want to forget. Syd is long gone. Left in his place is a shell of a man who prefers to be called Roger Keith Barrett, likes to be left alone, and has little desire to bring Syd back. We'll never see Syd again. But we can hope for the best for Roger... hope that he has found happiness in his life. And in the place of Syd, we have his legacy: his music.

Dennis Howie is a staff writer for Spare Bricks.

Insecure Syd

by Scott Frank

If I had to pick one word to describe Roger "Syd" Barrett it would be: insecure. He started off well. But, starting sometime in the summer of 1967 and carrying on for the next few years he became more and more erratic.

He began to write fewer, more incomplete songs. The first album is nearly all his material. But, by the second, he penned only the terribly haunting "Jugband Blues". On tour, he started to act in ways that can only be taken to be intentionally self-defeating. Legend has it that Mr. Barrett dumped a jar of Brylcream and Mandrax tablets onto his head just prior to a performance, for example. People tell tales of Syd's contributing only a middle C repeatedly through an entire show. He would turn up at the venue on time--but without his instrument--having forgotten to pack it. And, added to the mix, you have his increasing usage of mind-altering substances. Was he expanding his mind or just trying to escape the tensions of the life of a pop star? It's enough to make one wonder whether he really wanted to be there at all.

Once he left the Floyd, he retreated from music first a little, then a lot. He went into the recording studio a few more times, but only when coaxed. Most of his tunes have a sort of half-finished quality to them. It's like he was writing them as he was recording them. In fact, one really clear piece of evidence of this is the outtake "Word Song" which was finally officially released on Opel. If you line up all of the takes of any given song–such as "Love You"–and listen to them, it seems pretty clear that he really isn't quite sure how he wants it to sound. Various people, especially David Gilmour, have commented that Syd would never play anything the same way twice. I believe that this is due, at least in part, because he never really polished anything prior to the recording sessions. He was afraid of writing.

I think he was afraid of success–and he was afraid of failure. Both were equally unacceptable. If you are a success at writing, sooner or later, someone will want you to record it, then you have to tour, and eventually you get lots of additional pressure from your management to write more songs. If you are a failure, as a public figure, it's a public failure.

To continue being productive, while avoiding the music industry, he returned to painting. However, you'll notice that he never had an exhibition. He never sold his work. Most of the paintings that I have seen have a barren, half-finished, or underdeveloped feel to them. There's no way he can display a painting if it's not finished, so he never completes one. Later, according to his sister in Luca Ferrari and Annie Marie Roulin's book Fish Out Of Water, Syd was so convinced that no one would be interested in his paintings that he simply burned many of his canvasses.

In the end, he became paralyzed by a nearly overwhelming sense of inadequacy. He dressed like a slob, didn't tend his hair, "ate lots of porkchops", cut off all ties with friends, moped around his mother's basement for several years, and generally showed all of the classic signs of depression.

One can speculate about the pressures placed on Mr. Barrett by the record company folks, his own management, the fellow band members, and his own desire to succeed. Add in an unhealthily large dose of mind-altering substances, separation from family and familiar surroundings (while on continuous tour), the normal "coming of age" stresses of early adulthood (money, sex, etc) and you've got a situation, while not doomed to failure, that was probably not headed in the direction of perfect mental health.

It's really a shame that Mr. Barrett did not receive more professional psychiatric help. Today, people with depression this (comparatively) mild are able to lead much improved lives with the correct medication. That's not to say that he's doomed forever. In fact, I'm told that he's doing much better in recent years. But, if he'd been helped back in the 1970s, who knows what strange music might be roaring on MTV today ?

I think part of why interest in Mr. Barrett is still high enough to warrant multiple official releases, several very nice books, and web sites such as this one, some 25 years after he last entered a recording studio, is that most of us have experienced the same pressure to perform. We've all felt the same fractures in reality, the same isolation, and the same madness (but, hopefully, not to the same extremes).

Scott Frank is a guest contributor to Spare Bricks.

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