My Syd Barrett Tribute: Pastoral Psychedelic and the Passing of an Unknown Legend

On the 11th day of July 2006, a great and underappreciated musician passed away. The band that this man created and fronted from 1965-1968 went on to be one of rock n’ roll’s greatest treasures. This band was Pink Floyd, and Roger Keith “Syd” Barrett created it.

Syd Barrett, age 60, died of complications from diabetes, but in the eye of the public he had died a long time ago. Syd, ironically, took his nickname from the drug that would most thought was his undoing, acid (LSD). Though there is little known about the mental breakdown that forced Barrett to leave Pink Floyd, the singer apparently “went crazy” from years of prolonged exposure to the drug.

From a personal standpoint, Barrett has always been a favorite of mine and I actually feel kind of foolish trying to put my appreciation for him into words. Barrett had only achieved moderate commercial success with Pink Floyd before being replaced by his childhood friend David Gilmour. The fact remains, however, that Syd Barrett was responsible for honing the style that the band would turn into a globally renowned franchise

I must admit that a great deal of my admiration for Barrett stems from the fact that he was and is such an enigma. And while that may say very little about my own personal tastes, there are, luckily, dozens of Barrett compositions out there so the public can see for themselves. Barrett had such a unique sound, it was almost as if the only music he ever listened to was his own. His Pink Floyd songs, while more forceful and catchy, don’t really touch upon the sonic quality he perfected on two Gilmour produced solo records, “The Madcap Laughs” and “Barrett”.

But again, the most intriguing part of the Barrett myth was his willingness to walk away and just stop (but then again, maybe this was a necessity). One of the reasons I truly admire Billy Joel is because he also just stopped. I don’t understand how this happens. In fact, I am infinitely amazed by it. How can these artists who, since their teenage years, have spent countless hours sharpening their skill, just call it quits, cold turkey, no questions asked?

It is the most rare of rock n’ roll quandaries and, in my opinion, the one that does the most in terms of prospective legacy.

What confounds the Barrett lore is that, after his death, his sister told the press that he had no mental illness, that he was not a recluse. Both were sentiments that went strictly against the Barrett myth. “Quite often he took the train on his own to London to look at the major art collections – and he loved flowers. He made regular trips to the Botanic Gardens and to the dahlias at Anglesey Abbey, near Lode. But of course, his passion was his painting,” she said, not long after his death.

So that’s that. Syd Barrett was not some fairy-like waif, a lost soul or a rock n’ roll outcast. He was just a dude who liked flowers and painting. For some reason, I wasn’t that surprised. Despite the allusion to drugs and the “psychedelic lifestyle”, there was always a subtle, almost pastoral leaning that shined through in his work.

It’s no surprise that most of the Pink Floyd songs after Barrett’s departure dealt with loss of their leader. But instead of ending this piece with a quote from “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” or some other song about Barrett, I’d like to end with a song by Barrett:

“I knew a girl and I like her still
she said she knew she would trust me
and I her will…
I said: OK baby, tell me what you’ll be
and I’ll lay my head down and see what I see.
By the time she was back
by her open eyes
I knew that I was in for a big surprise.”

-Syd Barrett, “Love Song”