Syd Barrett, a memory on her birthday

Today, January 6, Syd Barrett would have turned 80. He passed away twenty years ago, on 7 July 2006, over thirty years after his retirement from the scene.

Yet his figure, so charismatic, and his story, full of mystery, have not been affected by the time that has passed inexorably. Indeed, in his case his popularity and consideration in the musical world seem to have grown exponentially.

Roger Keith Barrett, Syd to his friends, was born on 6 January 1946 in Cambridge, the same city where Roger Waters, born on 6 September 1943, and David Gilmour, who came into the world only two months after Syd, on 6 March, grew up.

Syd, Roger and David knew each other from a very young age, even if their passions did not always take them in the same direction. Barrett shared Gilmour’s love of music and, in particular, the guitar. Of the two, it was Gilmour who first achieved a certain local notoriety thanks to the semi-professional band Jokers Wild.

The young Syd’s true passion was initially painting, while music almost represented a complement to it, cultivated also thanks to the influence of his father Max, an esteemed pathologist and histologist at the University of Cambridge, and his older brother. Syd loved reading, especially short stories and fairy tales which fueled her vivid imagination. He had a playful and highly charismatic character, so much so that everyone who knew him said they loved him. Handsome, brilliant and friendly, he often surrounded himself with beautiful girls, arousing the healthy envy of his friends, including Storm Thorgerson, future creative genius of the Hipgnosis graphic studio, author of many of Pink Floyd’s most iconic covers.

Barrett and Waters had known each other since childhood: they lived a few meters apart and shared several common passions. Waters, at the time, had not yet been won over by music as an expressive instrument: he listened to it a lot, but limited himself to strumming the guitar with rather modest results.

David and Syd, who attended the same college, often played together during class breaks. According to Gilmour, his technique was superior and it was he who taught Syd some tricks and more complex chords on the six string.

At the end of 1963 Waters, who had moved to London to enroll at the Polytechnic, had formed a band with other students on his course, including Nick Mason and Richard Wright. These were not very serious experiences, accompanied by bizarre names such as T-Set, The Abdabs or Spectrum Five, difficult to use for national ambitions. In the autumn of 1964, with the arrival of Syd Barrett in London, the two crossed paths again and Barrett became part of one of the first incarnations of what, at the beginning of 1965, would officially become the Pink Floyd band. The name was proposed by Syd Barrett, although some sources claim that the idea had previously come from a mutual friend from Cambridge, Stephen Pyle.

Barrett, Mason, Waters and Wright, after several changes, continued as a quartet until the end of 1965. Starting from 1966 their musical path underwent a radical turning point. Between September and December of that year, Pink Floyd literally exploded, connecting with intelligence and luck to the nascent London underground movement, strongly characterized by psychedelic suggestions. In the space of a few months, between March and August 1967, they released two singles and a highly successful album, obtaining wide visibility in the press and a busy series of concerts throughout England, as well as the admiration of musicians of the caliber of Paul McCartney, Pete Townshend, Eric Clapton and Jimi Hendrix.

Early Pink Floyd’s style was an original fusion of rhythm and blues, rock, folk, electronic music and experimental jazz. Thanks to the compositional sensitivity of Barrett, author of most of the songs, and the classical training of keyboardist Richard Wright, supported by the solid but essential rhythm section of Mason and Waters, their sound managed to conquer audiences and critics. It was above all the songs signed by Syd that received the greatest acclaim. Barrett knew how to write powerful and immediate singles like “Arnold Layne” or “See Emily Play”, capable of climbing the British charts, but also songs that moved into completely different territories, from the pastoral atmospheres of “Flaming” and “Chapter 24” to the avant-garde experiments of “Astronomy Domine” and “Interstellar Overdrive”.

Syd Barrett’s songwriting ability, combined with a highly personal instrumental style—which seemed to blend a painterly approach to sound with the creative use of his guitar’s electronic effects—made him unique and inimitable. Added to all this was charisma, a magnetic gaze and a sometimes disturbing stage presence: a combination that foreshadowed a bright future full of possibilities.

Yet, just when she seemed to have the world in her hands, Syd Barrett suddenly deviated from the path that seemed written. The reasons for his psycho-physical collapse, from which he would never truly recover, have filled – and continue to fill – thousands of pages of books and articles, without ever reaching a definitive or plausible explanation. Factors common to many artists of the time probably contributed: the uncontrolled use of drugs and the enormous pressure of show business. Added to this was the desire, increasingly strong in Syd, to experience art without bowing to the logic of the market, perceived as a useful mechanism above all to enrich record companies, often indifferent to the emotional state of the artists. The frantic attention that had quickly overwhelmed Pink Floyd became unbearable for him.

The story is well known: between the end of 1967 and the beginning of 1968 Barrett was progressively questioned by the band, first joined and then replaced by David Gilmour, the friend from the carefree days of Cambridge.

In addition to the songs published with Pink Floyd, until his departure from the group Barrett had composed a considerable amount of unreleased material, evidence of an extraordinary creativity. In the spring of 1968 he returned to the studio to record his first solo album, with the production of Peter Jenner, Pink Floyd’s historic manager. However, Syd’s difficulty concentrating and working without the support of a stable band made the sessions problematic. The long and expensive recordings alarmed the record company, which ended up questioning the entire project. At that point, Gilmour and Waters came to his aid, assisting Jenner in the production.

Despite the artist’s discontinuity and some controversial production choices, the album was completed and on January 3, 1970 “The Madcap Laughs” (the B-side of the album cover is the illustration of this article) arrived in stores. The reception from the public and critics was positive, albeit accompanied by modest sales, which were however sufficient to justify the creation of a second album, entitled with the performer’s surname. Published in November of the same year, it was produced by Gilmour with Wright’s help. The support of his former companions proved fundamental: they managed to support Barrett’s emotional instability and adapt his irregular style to the rhythms of a recording studio.

From 1971 the situation worsened. Syd’s interest in music drastically decreased, also due to the lack of commercial success and a series of personal problems that dragged him further and further into a sort of quicksand. The situation became definitive at the beginning of 1972, when the experience of the Stars, a new band formed without great conviction in his Cambridge, also failed. After a few local concerts, in which it became clear how difficult it had become for Syd to face the public and her own inner demons, Barrett finally abandoned the world of music. Peter Jenner’s attempts were to no avail and, in August 1974, he tried once again to bring him back to the studio: that experience marked the definitive end of his musical career and beyond. A few months later, Barrett returned to Cambridge and retired to his mother’s home, where he lived until the end of his days, supported (also financially) by the constant presence of his sister Rosemary, dedicating himself to his passions for art and gardening.

In the following years, some journalists contributed to keeping attention on him, often fueling the myth of the crazy and unreliable artist. Starting in the 1980s, while interest – not only artistically – around Barrett was growing all over the world, the curiosity of some fans pushed them to travel to Cambridge in an attempt to meet him. When they managed to locate his home, Barrett simply closed the door or replied to onlookers that “Syd no longer lived there.”

Paradoxically, as Barrett retired, a slow but constant interest began to grow around him. A fanzine was born, “Terrapin”which for a few months fueled the hope of his return. In 1974 even Jimmy Page came forward, eager to bring him back into the studio, and in 1977 the punk band Damned also expressed their intention to involve him as a producer.

In 1975, with the release of “Wish You Were Here”, Pink Floyd dedicated the long tribute “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” to Syd. What was intended to be a sincere tribute also turned into a sort of official certification, by his former companions, of the end of his artistic epic. The expression “crazy diamond” has since become a convenient but cruel label that would accompany Barrett until the end of his days.

The numerous songs he recorded with Pink Floyd and as a soloist, characterized by a unique musical style and often intimate and introspective lyrics, have been reinterpreted over time by hundreds of artists around the world. Even today, every year, there is no shortage of records and concerts that pay homage to his music, both through big names such as David Bowie, REM, John Frusciante, Graham Coxon, Robyn Hitchcock or David Gilmour himself, and thanks to lesser-known artists.

Although he can be considered a niche artist, the interest of new generations of fans continues to grow around him, who find themselves in numerous groups and online communities with an unchanged desire to discover news and materials related to his musical past. Curiously, despite his Cambridge friends, Roger Waters and David Gilmour, having achieved significant worldwide success also as soloists, many books have been dedicated to Barrett, compared to a decidedly more limited number of volumes reserved for them.

Syd Barrett’s music has always found, and will continue to find, someone capable of recognizing themselves in those notes and those words. Because Syd Barrett’s genius is destined to remain immortal.

Happy birthday, Syd.