I’ve been reacquainting myself with that delightful Cambridge madcap Syd Barrett, late of Pink Floyd (and late of this earth, as of 2006). I was always a big fan of Syd, both of his work with the Floyd and his brief solo career. I read the new book “A Very Irregular Head” by Rob Chapman, a mostly enjoyable tome that retold the pop star’s story while dutifully stripping away the myth, as well as the glamour, to reveal a very troubled soul. In Chapman’s telling, Syd is seen as an artistically-gifted but socially-challenged person who happened to blossom just as the psychedelic-pop scene was. Syd temporarily abandoned his beloved painting for pop music, and showed an undeniable flair for writing quirkily amazing pop songs. His star burned out early for several reasons (drug use figured in, but the main culprits were disillusionment with the music business, apathy to mainstream “success” and an isolating introversion spurred on by a never-fully-diagnosed mental unbalance).
After bowing out of the music scene, Syd found it difficult to either return to painting (he hadn’t the discipline) or to return to a nice, quiet “normal” life. He retreated from London to Cambridge where he spent the rest of his days gardening and “bicycling to the shops” while battling demons, real and imagined. Once a star, always a star, at least in some people’s eyes; he was forever hounded by the press and by fans, old and new. It’s a very sympathetic portrait without Chapman bending too far to make his case for a genius who spent all his talent in a few concentrated years and then tried in vain to be a regular bloke in his hometown.
It should be noted that Syd’s boyhood pal, David Gilmour, did much over the years to keep Syd in royalties, which brings me to the newly-released “An Introduction to Syd Barrett,” the first official release to feature both Syd’s Floyd and solo output. The collection was executive-produced by Gilmour, and the guitarist collaborated on new mixes of several songs, and even added bass to one of the tunes (“Here I Go.”)
As an introduction, it’s a pretty good effort; especially if one considers the 18-track limitation. Putting myself in the shoes of a Syd newbie, I’d be very impressed with this collection, and it would surely make me seek out the other available recordings. So, on that level (and really, it is an “introduction,” so this is exactly the level it is on) it succeeds.
Track listing:
Arnold Layne
See Emily Play
Apples and Oranges
Matilda Mother
Chapter 24
Bike
Terrapin
Love You
Dark Globe
Here I Go
Octopus
She Took A Long Cool Look
If It’s In You
Baby Lemonade
Dominoes
Gigolo Aunt
Effervescing Elephant
Bob Dylan Blues
Now, of course, for those Syd fans in-the-know, there is a little bit of room for quibbling. And I’ll do my quibbling (not much, really, and keeping the same 18-track limit) here: First three tracks, brilliant. I wouldn’t change a thing. All are Floyd singles, and all are genius. The new mix of “Matilda Mother” was a bit jarring at first listen, as it contains alternate lyrics(!), but after I got over the fact that I couldn’t as yet sing along with it, I rather enjoyed it. I would not have included “Chapter 24,” and would have substituted “Scarecrow.” “Bike” is genius. This is the extent of the Floyd stuff, but I’d have to get “Astronomy Domine” on there, so I’d axe “Terrapin,” which I think is a weak song.
“Love You” is a fun little ditty, but I’d be tempted to replace it with the rather more menacing and inscrutable “No Good Trying,” from the same album. “Dark Globe” is a gorgeous song, but I much prefer the version on the 1988 compilation “Opel” to the originally-released take included here. “Here I Go” would indeed go, as I would replace it with the title track to the “Opel” release. That song is just stark, unadorned brilliance, and “Here I Go” is, well, not.
“Octopus” is a new mix, although I’d have to go back to the original in order to compare it. At any rate it is one of Syd’s best. “She Took A Long Cool Look” is a new mix (although the only difference I can hear is the omission of some lyric page-turning after the first verse – I would have left that in). It’s a great tune, as is “If It’s In You” even if the false starts and off-key vocals are still cringe-inducing. It’s a shame they (presumably) couldn’t get a better take of that one. Also, it’s odd to hear those two previous tunes without the 2-minute “Feel” which sits between them on the “Madcap” LP. I always think of those as a triptych of sorts. I’d argue for including “Feel” and sacrificing “Effervescing Elephant” which is undeniably fun, but doesn’t quite make the grade. “Baby Lemonade” and “Dominoes” are essential, especially the latter which is another new mix that doesn’t separate itself from the fine original, not to my ear at least. “Gigolo Aunt” is also a keeper, although I’ll have to dig up my dusty old cassette of the Peel Sessions, which included (what I recall as) a slightly different but nice version. Probably the one included here is the more presentable one. Again, “Elephant” is out in favor of “Feel,” and this leaves “Bob Dylan Blues."
Now, I must admit that when I got this CD, I thought that “Bob Dylan Blues” was the great pay-off of this collection. Upon further research, I see that this tune had been released on a 2001 Barrett collection called “Wouldn’t You Miss Me” (presumably the tune was the Fan's payoff of that collection). Anyway, it was my first time hearing it. For whatever reason, I had low expectations for it, and ended up rather surprised by it. It’s well-done: a pointed stab at the ego-edifice of “Mr. Dylan, the king” set to an acoustic strum which cheekily lifts the ascending guitar figure from “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall.” It’s a pleasant tune, but I would leave it off of this collection and relegate it to the hard-to-find outtake category. Well, that leaves one track which I get to insert, and I’d go back to the Pink Floyd “Piper” LP and pluck out “Lucifer Sam,” which would fit nicely on this disc right after “Apples and Oranges.”
Those picked nits aside, this is a nice collection, and the packaging includes as faithful a representation of Syd’s lyrics as the producers could muster (Syd’s lyrics never having been officially reprinted), as well as many whimsical illustrations, and cover art by longtime Floyd pal Storm Thorgerson.
No comments:
Post a Comment