In the course of busy busy business, huge events often go overlooked. One such event slid under The Wizard's radar this weekend: Syd Barrett died.
Eulogized thusly: Syd Barrett, original singer and songwriter of Pink Floyd, famous acid casualty, recluse, nut, inspiration for "Shine On (You Crazy Diamond)".
Nick Kent broke that diagnosis years ago, yet I wait for the snarkier, more sinister in its thirty something year old "Oh, what did the 60's mean?, "Hotel California" deep post mordem to come from critics and talking heads to follow. Fuck them.
Drugs by the Shovelful? Possible Mental Illness? Possible...
How about Syd deciding that maybe he didn't want to be a ROCK STAR. Maybe he no longer wanted to be a "Crazy Diamond" for the less talented to whore: The best post Syd Floyd is all the stuff that cops Syd's expansive infinitum, the space of space, the vast void of The Piper at the Gates of Dawn; Dark Side of the Moon, apotheiosis of Roger Waters's bloated and souless vision of the universe, thus $$$ from suburban headphone cosmonauts for whom Pink Floyd's whiny mediocrity came to emblemize, trading on poor Syd's long shadow of true progessive bravery, the avant garde dies a stadium death. For some, at least he left his "reputation" behind for ghouls. Hell, maybe he realized that Roger Waters was a pissant "intellectual" careerist who'd hump his legend forever...
The thing is, I feel Syd Barrett like I feel Lord Byron: subconcious and deep, like an instinct or a English daydream come home, beautiful and damaged visionaries of the rarest kind. Maybe its more Rimbaud than Byron, for the boy savant of Charleville was, like Byron andBarrett, a beautiful and damaged visionary, but it is in the boy savant we find the best comparison: Barrett and Rimbaud, audaciously innocent in imagination yet fiercely experimental in technique. Both said "fuck it" and were finished, with Rimbaud running guns in Abyssinia and Syd back to mum's garden, which I would say fit their varied "fuck it" attitudes. With Byron a revolutionary casualty in Greece's War of Independence, all were adventurers, though Syd's ultimately was sublimely mundane figures in gold in the morning dew of his garden.
Maybe Syd became lost in the sublime, chosing his vision over "reality", and painted for himself, finding peace of mind. Is that so weird: Emily Dickinson never left the attic. Maybe Syd saw that, if he gave his soul to the starmachine, this appreciation of the expansiveness of ordinary things would die, and cynicism would creep in. Stadium Death.
In the end, Syd preferred a quieter death, a death in the country, near his garden. Sure, he could have ended it years ago like Cobain and Morrison, a real rock star's death and forevermore have it sexed up for the aforementioned ghouls, but he opted to go home, and do something else. An ordinary death is fitting.
Syd...I hope you found it.
I find him far more a tragic than romantic figure. He wounded himself, and lived the rest of his life mentally crippled. Maybe what he produced really was all he had in him, but I don't think so. I think there are too many songs he left unsung.
ReplyDeleteHe can be both, and in terms of a capital "R" romantic, that makes sense.
ReplyDeleteWe know so little about him after he dropped out that whether he was a true "mental cripple" is something to think about.
I think I may have to concur with Master Wizard here. For example, Mario Praz's now classic The Romantic Agony reminds us of the vicissitudes brought about through excess of carnal and mental writhings.
ReplyDeleteThe Barrett : Byron :: Tragic Rock Star : Romantic Poet is not too forced of an analogy, especially if we figure in that both exude cynicism, alienation and a brooding nature in their writings. But, for my money, perhaps the Old Pink was more akin to John Wilmot in that they both, in Walter Pater's sentiment, exhibited that the desire "[t]o burn always with this hard, gem-like flame, to maintain this ecstasy, is success in life." And I would agree that both of those authors--Barrett and Rochester--had many more songs to sing and satires to pen.
But in that other brilliant Romantic poet's words, "Enough! or Too much"?
~Shine on,
Charles
Well, put it this way. What if you had a young, talented protege who was clearly determined to kill himself with drugs, to the point he had already been diagnosed with liver damage, because he had internalized the myth of the tortured artist?
ReplyDeleteWould you encourage him to burn his way down, or to find help to save his life? Do you honestly believe that saving his life would be a denial of art, or would it enable him to contribute what the death spiral would deny him?
In a sense, though, its a bit of a false analogy, because the point I was making was that he didn't become that: He opted out, went his own way, and survived. He became a painter, a gardener and not a rock star, and did not die a rock star death ala Cobain, Morrison, etc. The mythology around Syd was not something he wanted or sought out.
ReplyDeleteThe myth of the tortured artist is critical (meaning critics) bullshit romance, and those who buy into in order to create are not serious. Syd didn't want that, and had he stayed in the game, that's exactly what would have happened. Maybe he knew himself well enough to understand he'd never survive that way.
Unless everyone who knew him was mistaken, he became a casualty 40 years prior to his death. Some say he may have had that breakdown anyway, even without the daily LSD use, but even Gilmour says it was the trigger for the breakdown.
ReplyDeleteI don't get the impression he opted to leave the stage because he wanted a quieter life - it seems pretty clear that it was because he hurt himself badly enough that he was down to a minimal level of functionality and had no choice but to retreat to isolation.
The Wizard wrote: "In a sense, though, its a bit of a false analogy, because the point I was making was that he didn't become that: He opted out, went his own way, and survived. He became a painter, a gardener and not a rock star, and did not die a rock star death ala Cobain, Morrison, etc. The mythology around Syd was not something he wanted or sought out."
ReplyDeleteTrue (though I was riffing off of your construction). If we rigidly define a "tortured artist" as one who needs to also die through and because of his art, then, you're right that Roger Barrett does not fit that strict definition. However, if you allow a "tortured artist" to be someone who suffers to some degree through and because of his art but does not necessarily die from it, then Syd might fit the construction.
Can you suffer with, through and because of your art but then opt-out? I don't see why not, nor do I perceive it as a contradiction of what I've posted above. Barrett's opting-out after living part of his life as a "tortured artist" is just yet another possibility.
Also, I think the reports said he died of complications through diabetes. But we can't always believe what we need.
Grooving with a Pict,
Charles
It is true that we really don't know much about Syd after he left the band. I've always found it strange that such a revered person could achieve such total seclusion. That in itself speaks volumes. He didn't want to be found and, tellingly, no one seemed to want to find him.
ReplyDelete