Five Syd Barrett Tunes (by Oliver Ignatius)

Syd Barrett was one of the only true enigmas who ever passed through the forcefield of celebrity that is being a pop star, however brief his reign. For a few shit hot months in 1967, he led Pink Floyd to chart dominance in the UK, as some of the earliest innovators of the new psychedelic sound. At the center of Pink Floyd’s appeal at that time were Syd Barrett’s unhinged, angular electric guitar playing and his dazzlingly unique songwriting, always delivered in the same sleepy, childlike monotone. Sadly by the year’s end, he had begun to succumb to the strains of massive LSD consumption and symptoms of mental illness that remain mysterious to this day.

Whether he was schizophrenic, epileptic or simply socially autistic, he was judged a liability and had been kicked out of the band by early 1968. We all know the heights Pink Floyd would go on to scale without their founder and erstwhile leader. But Syd’s music has always been more interesting to me, for its idiosyncrasy, haunted beauty and streak of humanity a mile wide. On this day – the 5th anniversary of his death – I’ve selected 5 of my favorite Syd Barrett tunes.

CHAPTER 24
From the mysterious, highly spiritual second side of Pink Floyd’s debut LP The Piper at the Gates of Dawn, “Chapter 24″ is simultaneously one of the most “together” pieces in Syd’s oeuvre and one of the freest, most rhapsodic pieces of music I’ve ever heard. The lyrics are directly quoted from a reading he gave himself from the I Ching, the ancient Taoist divination text. But the core of the music is in his gentle, compassionate vocals, borne by Richard Wright’s burning organ lines and rivers of cascading pianos, and Roger Waters’ sighing, humming bass. There’s an eternal quality to the way the song structure seems to loop in on itself, as verses become indistinguishable from choruses, and the whole arrangement rises to a hazy ambiance of absolute benevolence.

SCREAM THY LAST SCREAM
Tracked at the tail end of the heady summer of 1967, once Pink Floyd had placed two chart hits (including “See Emily Play,” which went to #3) and become paisley-decked ambassadors for the psychedelic movement, “Scream Thy Last Scream” was one of the earliest signs that Syd Barrett had progressed from the willful, joyous abstraction of his previous work into something far knottier and darker. Having reportedly begun to break down as a result of the pressures of fame and his herculean acid intake, “Scream Thy Last Scream” is a belligerent, paranoid song of warning with about 6 lines of lyrics that are repeated into delirium. For reasons unknown, the lead vocal was actually handed to drummer Nick Mason, who sang it with mustache-twirling aplomb. Meanwhile Syd and Richard Wright recorded another track of unison vocals at half speed, so that on play back it would play twice as fast and convert them into some demonic spin on Alvin & the Chipmunks. Never officially released, “Scream Thy Last Scream” is surely the most horrific song in Pink Floyd’s catalog, and the only lines Syd sings lead by himself (“she’ll be scrubbing bubbles on all fours”) show that, although he may have been losing the thread of reality, as a musician he was as masterful as ever at building the kind of constraining tension that curls around your neck and threatens to snap it off clean.

LATE NIGHT
By the time “Late Night” was tracked, in spring of 1968, Syd Barrett had been unceremoniously deposed by Pink Floyd (following a disastrous American tour that saw him slipping further into symptoms of catatonic schizophrenia) and was working on his first solo album, the strange, woozy and yet homey The Madcap Laughs. In that context, “Late Night” can be read as a wistful farewell to the entire era, to the rush of celebrity, the brotherhood of Pink Floyd, to his girlfriend Lindsay Korner who he had split with around the same time he left his band. By this time, Syd had begun “treading the backwards path” (in his own words) and was fading into complete inscrutability. But “Late Night” is pure, melancholy clarity, as his trademark bird-like slide guitars whoosh around the song and his gorgeously romantic lyric gently insinuates itself over 3 stanzas. This must be one of the sweetest, saddest songs ever recorded.

GIGOLO AUNT
Although it did not sell particularly well (unsurprisingly), The Madcap Laughs was critically well received, which stoked demand for some follow up. Because, given his fragile mental state, touring was not really an option, his label requested a follow up album. Produced by his replacement in Pink Floyd (and childhood friend) David Gilmour, with assistance from Richard Wright, Barrett is paradoxically less unhinged than its predecessor, while by all accounts Syd was in worse shape than ever. That didn’t prevent him from knocking out “Gigolo Aunt,” one of his most uplifting and listener-friendly tunes, although its drugged out sprawl meant it would never be lighting up any chart countdowns. Under one of his most playful and catchy melodies, the pick-up band of Gilmour, Wright and drummer Jerry Shirley turn in a loose, bouncing performance with one of those explosive, inscrutably insistent refrains Syd was so legendary for: “I know what you are, you are the gigolo aunt!”

WINED AND DINED
Recorded near the tail end of the Barrett sessions, “Wined and Dined” is, as such, one of Syd’s last outposts to the world outside. Soon he would return to his childhood home in Cambridge, where he would live quietly until his death from diabetes related complications in 2006. “Wined and Dined” is gorgeous, thinner than air, the sound of a soul so unencumbered by attachment to the world (for better and for worse) that he threatens to just blow away forever. Another spectral romance for lost love, “Wined and Dined” finds him turning in one of his loveliest, most subtle vocal performances. If he had only been able to hang on to the thread enough to give us more music, there’s no telling what stratospheric heights he may have ascended. But ultimately, he chose to pursue his own happiness instead, and that must have been the right move for him. Abandoning the name “Syd” and returning to his birth name “Roger Barrett,” he seems to have never really looked back. When one enterprising fan tracked him down in Cambridge in the 80s, he found the master sullenly gardening, unrecognizable as his former self. When queried as to whether or not he was Syd Barrett, Roger simply answered, “It’s nothing to do with me.”

Oliver Ignatius was the original front man of Hanson. Oliver is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. Oliver may be a pickpocket. Oliver lives in Brooklyn where he sings lead vocals in the gangsta rap collective Ghost Pal. Oliver also plays drums, guitar, and piano, but he never plays games with your heart.