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Underground > Radio & Music >

Syd Barrett RIP

12:42 / 11.07.06

He's died last week, apparently. I was never a Floyd fan, but I thought you should know.

STOATIE LIEKS CHOCOLATE MILK

12:45 / 11.07.06

Ooh, didn't hear about that. That's quite sad, really. As I understand was much of his life.

lord nuneaton savage

13:07 / 11.07.06

"Put on a gown that touches the ground..."

Very sad news indeed. Britain's (the worlds?) most iconic psychedelic popstar. A guitar player of scratchy beauty, a singer of rare fragility and a songwriter of genius. One can only hope that the rumours of his later contentment, after his notorious breakdown, were not exaggerated.
RIP Syd.

"...float on a river forever and ever"

Mon Oncle Ignatius

13:10 / 11.07.06

Sic transit and all that.

I do hope he gets to keep some sort of privacy even in death, as he took such pains to keep himself secluded for so long.

MattShepherd: I WEDDED KALI!

13:18 / 11.07.06

Oh! Great sadness. I had no idea. Damn.

13:26 / 11.07.06

I do hope he gets to keep some sort of privacy even in death

The spokesperson who made the announcement said that there would be only a small, private family funeral, and didn't disclose the cause of death. It's a good start, privacy-wise.

A friend played me "Piper at the Gates of Dawn" just the other day, and I was kicking myself for not having listened to it sooner. Beautiful stuff.

lonely as a cloud...

13:40 / 11.07.06

That's a bummer. Poor old Syd. Piper... was an excellent albums, and his solo work had some moments of genius, though it could have done with some editing.
At least the poor guy was left more or less alone for the last 25 odd years, not being pestered by the press or anyone. R.I.P., Syd.

15:29 / 11.07.06

I do hope he gets to keep some sort of privacy even in death

Well I might pour him a drink of something on the Day of the Dead, along with Desmond Decker, but I'm not going to be breaking out the oujia board and pestering him all the time, if that's what you're getting at.

paranoidwriter waves hello

16:36 / 11.07.06

Cheers Syd, for all those enjoyable evenings in my teens, listening to your playful lyrics and chuckling. I suppose we'll never know why you called him Gerald. But then, it's probably it's better that way.

Shine on you crazy diamond.

17:39 / 11.07.06

Inside me I feel

alone and unreal

18:25 / 11.07.06

Bury the man under Octopus Rise, I say

20:23 / 11.07.06

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.
You were caught on the crossfire of childhood and stardom,
blown on the steel breeze.
Come on you target for faraway laughter,
come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine!
You reached for the secret too soon, you cried for the moon.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Threatened by shadows at night, and exposed in the light.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Well you wore out your welcome with random precision,
rode on the steel breeze.
Come on you raver, you seer of visions,
come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine!

Mon Oncle Ignatius

21:50 / 11.07.06

I'm not going to be breaking out the oujia board and pestering him all the time, if that's what you're getting at.

I wouldn't be surprised if some spiritualist Floyd fans are doing that right now... No, I was more musing on the possible emergence of My Life With Syd Barratt-type reminiscences or a rash of Inside The Mind Of The Madcap Genius Recluse cash-ins now that he's gone. It would seem a shame, somehow, and more than a little bit tawdry.

23:15 / 11.07.06

damn.
what paranoidwriter said

00:35 / 12.07.06

It's awfully considerate of you to think of me here
And I'm most obliged to you for making it clear
That I'm not here.
And I never knew the moon could be so big
And I never knew the moon could be so blue
And I'm grateful that you threw away my old shoes
And brought me here instead dressed in red
And I'm wondering who could be writing this song.

I don't care if the sun don't shine
And I don't care if nothing is mine
And I don't care if I'm nervous with you
I'll do my loving in the winter.

And the sea isn't green
And I love the queen
And what exactly is a dream?
And what exactly is a joke?

11:00 / 12.07.06

i love syds music but that goddam awful bloated AOR crap shine on you crazy diamond better not become some sort of epitath for him, and if it does, well....

i know where roger waters lives

will go home and play his songs tonight

Tom Paine's Bones

12:09 / 12.07.06

No, I was more musing on the possible emergence of My Life With Syd Barratt-type reminiscences or a rash of Inside The Mind Of The Madcap Genius Recluse cash-ins now that he's gone.

Considering that he was apparently doorstepped by the tabloids around Liveaid, I wouldn't hold much hope...

14:44 / 14.07.06

why did he become a recluse? was he depressed?

15:33 / 14.07.06

I always wondered what extent "He became a recluse" translates as "He no longer wished to be a celebrity and just wanted a normal quiet life". There's a big pejorative gap between those two statements.

I'm just gutted because I'll never get to write "Syd Barret investigates" a Sunday night detective drama in the mold of "Inspector Morse" or "A touch of frost" set in the English countryside and featuring the post-Floyd Barrett solving murder mysteries. They seem to commission all sorts of gimmick detectives, like the detective who is also a doctor/priest/gardener/lawyer/forensics expert/little old lady/novelist/etc.. So it's only a matter of time before we have the former 60s acid casualty pop star detective. It could be called "Shine on you crazy diamond". Barrett would get visions related to the crime, much like in shows like "Medium" and "The Dead Zone", but the twist would be that his visions are actually just acid flashbacks that have nothing to do with the crime, and actively hamper his investigations by sending him off on a wild goose chase about octopuses or suchlike. I would watch it.

15:54 / 14.07.06

I think it might too...

but seriously, I heard someone suggest that he was schizophrenic. it's a pretty myopic choice to live with your mother (not kocking it btw) when you can travel the world.

ONLY NICE THINGS

16:04 / 14.07.06

Maybe he didn't want to travel the world. Or possibly not in the company of Roger Waters.

"Yes, Roger. Education. Very bad. Jelly baby?"

Professor Silly

16:46 / 14.07.06

The rest of the guys I play music with are much much more into Pink Floyd and Syd than I've ever been.... Only since seeing "Live at Pompeii" have I started to have an appreciation for what the five of them (including Syd and Gilmour, collectively) have done to change the face of modern music.

Last night we covered "Astronomy Domine" and moved several people to tears--so I'm guessing he will be sorely missed, even by those who didn't know much about his life and/or where he ended up. The youngsters out there seem a lot more educated on early Pink Floyd than the guys my age, so perhaps we'll see a resurgance of psychedelia in the "emo" acts of today.

R.I.P.; now let's eat and drink in his memory

18:27 / 14.07.06

Why this is on Luckymojo.com I'm not sure, but it seems to be a really good bio.

The same words are here -- I find both layouts annoying for different reasons, so choose your poison.

Either way:
1969: When Rock arrived to take the shots, Syd answered the door dressed in just his underpants, obviously having forgotten about the session. His latest girlfriend, known only as Iggy The Eskimo, was even less prepared. She wandered in entirely naked and remained so throughout the shoot. "They both laughed a lot and it was a magical session," says Rock. "My experience of Syd was that his legendary withdrawal from daily human intercourse was a matter of choice not necessity."

1972: But Barrett was issued to a lukewarm reception in November, by which time Syd had decamped to his mother's place in Cambridge where Rolling Stone interviewed him a year later. Mick Rock's pictures for the article show him with a trim, Beatlish haircut, prancing barefoot in his back garden. Syd declared himself "totally together". Within months he was back on a stage at the King's College Cellar as part of Stars, an impromptu "boogie band" with bass-player Jack Monck (who was married to Syd's ex-girlfriend Jenny Spires) and former Pink Fairies drummer Twink.

..."Most of the audience had drifted away by the time Stars came on. There were no more than 30 people in the place. It must have been one in the morning and the house lights were up when they shambled on. Syd looked brilliant, purple velvet trousers and snakeskin boots, long unkempt hair, shell-shocked eyes... They played about six or seven songs, Lucifer Sam from Piper, a smattering of numbers from
the solo albums, Octopus and Gigolo Aunt and the inevitable shapeless, bluesy jam, after which Syd said, 'I don't know what that one was called.' There were snatches of brilliance and then it would degenerate into chaos again. He cut his fingers on the guitar at one point and a girl got up on stage to start dancing in that '70s spirit of everyone joining in and Syd just glared at her and she got off. Jack Monck's bass amp packed up and they called it a day.

"They didn't turn up for the gig with Kevin Ayers and Nektar at Essex University the following week." Stars never appeared again. Syd's career was over.

19:01 / 14.07.06

I find the last paragraph of this section of the wikipedia bio strangely touching.

23:03 / 15.07.06

Seeing Lone Pigeon linked with Syd is strangely apt.

23:05 / 15.07.06

the twist would be that his visions are actually just acid flashbacks that have nothing to do with the crime

C'Mon Chuffy, we'll show them!

There's no-one there, Jack!

14:27 / 17.07.06

I'm just gutted because I'll never get to write "Syd Barret investigates" a Sunday night detective drama in the mold of "Inspector Morse" or "A touch of frost" set in the English countryside and featuring the post-Floyd Barrett solving murder mysteries. They seem to commission all sorts of gimmick detectives, like the detective who is also a doctor/priest/gardener/lawyer/forensics expert/little old lady/novelist/etc.. So it's only a matter of time before we have the former 60s acid casualty pop star detective. It could be called "Shine on you crazy diamond". Barrett would get visions related to the crime, much like in shows like "Medium" and "The Dead Zone", but the twist would be that his visions are actually just acid flashbacks that have nothing to do with the crime, and actively hamper his investigations by sending him off on a wild goose chase about octopuses or suchlike. I would watch it.

You're a genius, Gypsy.

It could work on an Inspector Gadget style premise wherein Syd would have a smart sidekick and/or relative who would do the actual grunt-work of solving the crime, but incompetent Syd would always end up stealing the glory.

So having been exposed and unmasked, the murderer would be making his final desperate dash across the lawn to freedom when he'd trip over Syd, who is diligently staring at the base of a tree waiting for the shining purple cat to appear and deliver another esoteric clue..

..cut to sidekick fuming as s/he reads the next day's local paper, with a picture of the two of them wrestling on the front and "BARRETT CATCHES CROOK" style headline.

"Why, it all made perfect sense," Syd says to the awed policemen and journalists, "I knew my intuition would lead me to the right place at the right time".

And so on.