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"Fame requires every kind of excess."

"I mean true fame."

"A devouring neon."

"Long journeys across grey space."

"Danger."

"The edge of every void."

"Understand the man who must
inhabit these extreme regions."

"Even if half-mad, he is absorbed
into the public's total madness."

"Even If fully rational,
a bureaucrat in hell,"

"a secret genius of survival,"

"he is sure to be destroyed by
the public's contempt for survivors."

What are you working on
at the moment inside yourself?

I can't really say.

Maybe this break
would be very valuable

to try painting again after
a break of going into pop music.

I don't know.

If I wanted to say nothing,

or if I want to act
in an extraordinary way,

then I feel that
that too is justified.

Syd Barrett, one of the founding
members of Pink Floyd,

has died at the age of 60.

A statement from the band
described him as a guiding light

who leaves a legacy
which continues to inspire.

He left the Pink Floyd in 1968

and lived as a recluse
in Cambridge for three decades.

How would you describe,
now in your maturity...

Thank you.

...his contribution to Pink Floyd?

Well, it wouldn't have existed
if it hadn't been for Syd.

We would have been one of those
thousands and thousands of bands

who come up and they play
blues and "Louie Louie".

They might write the odd crappy
song and then they disappear.

They get proper jobs
and that's the end of it.

I discovered Pink Floyd's music

through the music
they made in the late '70s.

For people that got
info Pink Floyd at that point

and were listening
to those records first,

they knew that there had been
this guy Syd in the band.

The story was always,
"Oh, he went mad and left the group."

That's all we knew about it.

There was religious
acid taking at that time.

Syd was one of the sort of
saints of that underground cult.

Literature and the Bible
for example, is full of people

who deliberately isolated themselves.

The hermits who went info the desert.

People who had visions,
who preferred to be on their own.

And others,
who having those experiences,

were determined
to preach to the multitude.

The romantic ideal is

that a creative person is drawn
by something so powerful

that he, or she, will follow that

regardless of the price
that has to be paid.

These people are out there in front.

They're not looking
over their shoulder,

they're just gonna do it.

Syd is the ultimate kind of loner.

It's the same a little bit
with Brian Jones or something.

I suppose what is sad
ls about somebody

who is still extremely relevant,
Just decides to stop.

It's OK when someone carries on
into irrelevance and then stops.

No one cares.

The last thing he was interested in
was explaining himself.

And consequently, he became a figure
of intense-focused interest,

because there was a mystery there.

He's the perfect god, you see.

A god must actually
be killed and eaten,

but then he must be reborn.

The life of Syd Barrett,

founding member of Pink Floyd,
is full of unanswered questions.

Though he named the group
and wrote their first two hit songs,

Barrett was later pushed out
of the band by its members,

who were convinced he was having
an LSD-induced psychotic breakdown.

But to examine the complex
story of Syd Barrett,

one needs to take a trip.

A trip back to the picturesque
and historic

English university town of Cambridge.

Roger Keith Barrett was born in
Cambridge on January 6th 1946.

One of five children,
closest to his sister Rosemary.

He was always
wanting the next bit of fun.

And if it didn't arrive,
then he'd make it.

I can remember
once at the dinner table,

when he had a little bit of cabbage
sticking out of his mouth.

He knew it was there and he kept it
there for the whole meal

and pretended he didn't know.

Of course, everybody was
giggling because his face was,

"I know it's there,
I know you're laughing at me

but I'm going to ignore it."

Barrett's father,
a pathologist and avid botanist,

encouraged the artistic
leanings of his son,

who loved to write and draw.

By the age of 13 or 14,

Roger had acquired the nickname 'Syd'
from his friends at school.

As legend has it
after a local jazz bass player,

Syd 'the beat' Barrett.

At home he remained Roger or Rog.

I'm speaking at this level.
I'm speaking at this level.

Ok. This is slate three.

I believe Storm's interview,
it's 08:10.

Big clap.

My name is Storm.
I knew Syd in the early '60s.

We were both at the same school

as Roger and Dave,
who became Pink Floyd obviously.

The peer group in Cambridge
that Syd was part of

was full of aspiring artists.

Not businessmen,
not medical, not lawyers.

Syd was not unusual

and seemed to be
as he were one of the gang.

The group evolved by itself.

Nobody was really the leader.

The centers of Seamus and Storm

was simply because their mothers
were very indulgent

towards teenage boys.

The start came at Cherry Hinton
Road at your mother's house.

I tended to be into
beer and jazz and students.

Your lot were more into drugs
and rock music and cool people.

I deny it totally.

I went to the county high school,
Cambridgeshire High School for boys,

and was in the same year as Syd.

We had to choose between
woodwork, metal work and art.

So I went info the art class

and there I discovered a bunch
of people who were useless.

A teacher who was equally useless,

but one student
by the name of Roger Barrett,

had a flare way beyond his years.

The Christmas holiday of 1961
was overshadowed

by his father's death from cancer,

Just a month
before Syd's 16th birthday.

Syd's family moves to 183 Hills Road.

Libby Gausden lives
several houses up the street.

I Met Syd, I think, in 1961.

We'd have both been 15.

Where did you meet?

I met him at Jesus Green,

which is a wonderful place
in Cambridge.

I'd been swimming and diving
actually with Dave Gilmour.

After the swimming,
I came out with some friends

and we were messing
about on the see-saw outside.

And I met Syd there.

He was kind,
he was gentle, he was generous,

he liked buying presents.

He wrote to me all the time.

I had always thought of you
as Syd's first major girlfriend.

We were always together.

When you went out with him
how was he?

It always looked like he was full
of the joys of spring, which he was.

Let's go back,
way back to the early '60s.

What is your abiding memory of Syd?

Just a guy who was fiercely
intelligent and loads of fun.

Life was just too easy
for him really in a way.

He had huge gifts

which were natural to him
so he didn't see them as huge.

Everything he turned
his hand to worked.

The girls worked, the painting
worked, the music worked,

the friendships worked.

I always remember Syd's hair.

- Do you?
- Yeah.

- Curly, black.
- Yeah, lovely.

And I also remember his walk.

- He smelled nice.
- Sorry?

He smelled nice.

You could see
this extraordinary buoyancy

which was most clearly
evidenced in the way he walked.

He walked with a bounce,
he walked on the front of his feet

with his heels
off the ground all the time.

You could spot him several
hundred yards away in Cambridge

wandering up the street.

We used to go on my Vespa
down to Hills Road

for these Sunday afternoon
jam sessions,

where I saw Syd playing
guitar for the first time.

The music side of the story
really begins

with Geoff Mott And The Mottoes,
of which Syd was an august member.

I remember when Syd
bought his first Futurama.

It was bright red as I recall

and he used to learn
Duane Eddy things on it

like "Walk Don't Run".

We'd started to go to shows in London

and I remember sitting on the train
having seen Gene Vincent.

We sat there with a piece of paper

and figured out
the amplification for the band

that we were going to be.

It had two VOX AC30s drawn on it.

And we were going,
"Well, the vocals and the bass

and then this
can go through this one.

The rhythm guitar...

Will we have a keyboard?
Don't know, maybe."

He used to appear at parties

of which we had quite a lot of
in Cambridge at that time.

He used to play a lot of the songs
that later became songs on his album.

But because he was just
as he were one of the gang,

I don't think anybody
thought anything about him.

He had this grin

you could mistake for a smirk
but it wasn't.

It was almost like he knew
something you didn't know.

He was one of those people

that was part
of the crowd very much so

and then the next minute,
he'd slipped away from a room.

And it'd be, "Where's Syd?"
Nobody knows.

Syd's enthusiasm for painting

sees him enroll at the Cambridge
School of Art in 1962.

Simultaneously, he discovers
Beat poetry, Kerouac

and rhythm and blues.

He gets into The Beatles

and sees
the Rolling Stones in concert.

He drew very often

with a lovely kind of whirly
twirly drawing quality.

Very refined line I would say.

He seemed to me a born painter

and to have really the temperament
of a born painter.

Slightly recessive and contemplative.

I had taken up painting.

David Gale suggested that
we have an exhibition together.

It is our first venture
into commercial art.

A total failure.

- Did you sell anything?
- No, we sold nothing.

We used to have
jam sessions with the guitar

in the art school,
and later, joined by Dave,

in the common room
to the whole technical college.

We loved Beatles
and Stones and blues stuff.

Chuck and Bo.

I can remember learning "Come On".

- The Stones.
- By the Stones.

And "Off the Hook".

I can see in my mind the back bench

against one of the walls
and people sitting there

at probably 10:00 o'clock in
the morning just strumming away.

Do you remember whether you were
impressed by his paintings

or by his personality?

I was more impressed
by his personality.

He just looked like somebody
who was going places.

He was quite a star in our small
firmament as it was at the time.

He was very unusual,
very interesting.

The complete package
I believe you'd say.

The complete package.

Jenny dear,
when did you first meet Syd?

And how was he?

I met him in the Cambridge
Student Union Cellars.

He was playing with
a band called Those Without.

He came up and said hello
and introduced himself.

When did you start going steady?

Well, a week later,

a week after that,
he phoned me and said

he would like
to meet up and have coffee.

So I met him in the Guild.

He wrote to me and said

that he'd drawn a picture
of me leaning against the bar.

He sent this picture

with a beautiful piece of pink
tissue paper written on it,

"I love you, I love you.
I can't stop thinking about you."

How long did you go out with him?

I probably saw him nearly
every day from 61 to '63.

I think he went
to art school in London in '64,

so that was a bit of a messy year.

In September 1964,
Syd moves to London.

In 1960, whatever it was,

he duly arrived
and he moved into the apartment

that I was already sharing
with Nick Mason and Rick Wright.

- Mike Leonard's place?
- Mike Leonard's place.

We were Leonard's Lodgers.

Bob Klose was in the band.

As soon as Syd arrived things changed
because Syd had other aspirations.

Syd tuned into
that whole west coast thing.

If you asked me, "What did Love do?"
I'd go, "I have no fuckin' idea."

But I know Syd did.

He was one of the most

emotionally and intellectually
curious people

that I've ever met.

Gigging under various names,

the Architectural Abdabs
and The Tea Set,

Syd renames their band
the Pink Floyd Sound

by combining the names
of two obscure blues men,

Pink Anderson and Floyd Council.

Bob Klose leaves the band

as they start moving
towards more improvised music

largely as backing tracks to their
increasingly elaborate light shows.

Syd starts to write songs
including "Let's Roll Another One",

which later becomes
"Candy and a Currant Bun"

and "Bob Dylan Blues".

The band becomes solidified
with Syd on guitar,

Roger Waters on bass,
Rick Wright on keyboards

and Nick Mason on drums.

When you were at Camberwell with Syd,
what kind of guy was he?

The thing that I really remember
ls his innocence.

All this very glamorous
dark curly hair, very alive eyes

and a general air
of glamour about him.

But he had this innocence
almost like a child.

He painted with great energy,
terrific sense of colour.

And what I remember is big,
very painterly abstract paintings.

Towards the end of that first year,

he went to Robert Medley,
who was head of painting.

He said to Robert,

"At the moment with my group
I'm getting £200 pounds a week."

- A lot of money.
- A fortune really.

He said, "Could I possibly have
the year off, have a sabbatical?"

His college work was important
and he'd write to me and say,

"I've got to do a painting this size
so I can stay on next year,

but I wrote this really nice song.”

So did Syd then leave for a year?

He left and he didn't come back.

Having left art school there are
a lot of things that I could do,

a lot of things I see now,
a lot of things that went into me,

thinking that these were perhaps
changing and altering things.

Roger Keith Barret,
aspiring painter,

drops out of art school so that Syd
Barrett, pop star, may be born.

Before long, Barrett would find
himself at the epicenter

of the biggest underground
movement ever to hit Britain.

You've got a bright future.

There's a general
sea change that goes on

in English music anyway
during 1965, '66.

You get a band like The Paramounts
turning to Procol Harum

and stop doing
cover versions of Poison lvy.

And within two years they're
doing "A Whiter Shade of Pale".

I think Syd is aft the very
cutting edge of that movement.

I think Syd's one
of the first ones who transforms

from just copying R&B to actually
doing something utterly new.

We were reading
Alan Watts, Marvel comics,

Kerouac and Cybernetics,
all at the same time.

Syd was an extraordinarily
quick absorber.

It was just a series of,
"Look at this.

Listen to this.
What about this?"

And it was just
going on and on and on and on.

All of the arts,
all simultaneously

and then we can just throw
LSD into the mix if you feel like it.

There was a lot of rumors
going around

that acid can damage your brain.

And hippies would say,
"It's just the CIA, man.

They're just saying that
to stop you taking acid,

to stop you eating live kittens."

According to all the accounts
that I've read,

everybody was on acid
in my parents back garden.

This is not true.

I think the only person
there who was on acid...

Maybe two people were,
Paul Charrier and Sunny Syd.

I believe there was a water fight.

The bathroom window
on the top floor banged open.

There were shouts of joy

and we saw water
coming out of the window.

Paul Charrier wielding the rose
of the shower spraying Syd.

They were just mucking about
like six-year-olds.

People were hanging
around in the garden.

Syd went info the kitchen
of the house, found a box of matches,

an orange and a plum,
sat down and looked at them.

Most of the time, what I remember
is Syd sitting quietly

in the back garden
of Dave Gale's house

holding and examining these objects.

At that time, everybody
was dropping acid in London.

But not everybody's
dropping acid like he was.

But he wasn't the only one.

And there was a lot of
discussion about how to take it.

Is there a big difference between
50 milligrams a day or 100 or 2507.

How many times a day?
Once, twice or three times?

Is there a real difference between
250 milligrams and 500 milligrams?

Acid was the drug of the time.

Self-realization,
speaking to God through acid,

is the danger of opening doors

before you've spent
30 years in solitude

and preparing your soul
and your spirit ready

for the big meeting with Big G.

That was one
of the problems with acid.

It whooshed you right through
that 30 years of preparation,

opened the door and bang!

There you are at the centre
of the celestial universe.

Deal with it my son.

And two hours before you were eating
fish and chips down the corner.

He really did feel
that the psychedelic revolution

was flowing right through his body.

He did feel he was almost
possessed against his will.

You know that story, "If you can
remember the '60s you weren't there."

It was the destruction of the rational,
predictable, material world.

So called reality
was only one of many.

1966 is the year
the doors come off the hinges.

Fuelled by experimentation
with mind-expanding drugs

flowing through the counter culture,

the seismic upheaval
of post-war British society

spreads from politics and art,
to fashion and music.

Everybody was taking lots of drugs.

People liked these long things
that you could really get into,

which strung you out

and took you very slowly through
various climactic trajectories.

We all liked Love's album
which was really good.

I was just saying to him, "I really love
that song which goes..."

Da-da-da-da-da da-da-da.

Done in the "Little Red Book",
or something like that.

I can't sing in tune to save my life.

Syd said, "You mean like this?"
And he played it.

That's what became
"Interstellar Overdrive",

It was that riff mangled by me
and then reinterpreted by Syd.

The big thing in those days was
Friday night at the UFO club.

Not only did you have Pink Floyd,
you had The Soft Machine

and the Crazy World of Arthur Brown.

"Fire." Da-da-da, da-da.

Pete would have been supplying
a psychedelic projection apparatus

to the increasingly
gigging Pink Floyd.

Were you as excited by this
as were the audience?

I don't know about the audience,
I never gave them a thought.

I remember being in the audience

thinking this was probably
the centre of the universe.

Yes it was, indeed.

The only time II've ever deliberately
missed a gig with The Who,

was I heard that Pink Floyd
were doing a concert

and didn't tell the band.

So the band went and I went
to the UFO club with Eric

and took some acid
and danced like a hippie.

The band had come out
with this interesting rig,

which was two Binson Echorec units.

They were considered to be
an echo box from the era of...

Dow-dow, dow-dow-dow.

Nobody used them.

Certainly Jimi Hendrix
did not use an echo box

and neither did I, and neither did
Eric Clapton or Jimmy Page.

Nobody used them.

But Syd had not just one but two.

He came out he had a shock of
black hair, black makeup on his eyes

and the clothes he was wearing
were proper psychedelic outfits.

And he was beautiful.

He plays a chord
and it just goes, jang!

And then nothing happens.

So he pushes
some buttons on this machine,

plays another chord, jang!

Nothing happens, he pushes another
couple of buttons on the machine

and suddenly it goes...

Da-na-na, da-da-da
WO-WO-WO-WO...

His analogue echo degrades.

He pushes another button
on the other machine,

and it goes into, what we call
in the music business, syncopated echo.

It goes...

Pow-pow-pow-pow, pa-pa-pa-pa,
pow, pa-pa-pa-pa, pow.

Pa-pa-pa-pa, pow,
pa-pa-pa-pa, pow.

Nick Mason starts to play
and then Roger Waters starts to play

and it just turns info
what can only be described

as spectacular
psychedelic heavy metal.

Something suddenly kicks in.
I don't think it's even gradual.

Yes, you can say it's LSD.

Yes, you can say it's the echoplex,
it's the light shows.

There's all these interesting
environmental things going on

in and around the music,
but really it's Syd.

The way the act's developed
in the last six months

has been influenced by the fact
that we've played in ballrooms.

I think concerts have given us
a chance o realise

that the music we play isn't
directed at dancing necessarily

like normal pop groups.

Syd defined the whole
of that moment in the '60s.

The colour, the vivacity of it,
the psychedelic freedom.

Without Syd, something
might have happened eventually.

You couldn't over emphasize
his importance

because he was the creative genius.

I remember sitting with him

while he was looking
info the stars book

and getting "Astronomy Domine" thing,
which I had to read in the studio,

which he just took out
of a book, and I love that.

They were so totally
and unbelievably original.

You could say that the various
technologies were available,

like Hammond organs
and this and that and the other,

which gave them the opportunity
of mixing popular music

with metaphysical ideas
and science fiction ideas.

The Floyd were never doing
"19th Nervous Breakdown"

or "I Can't Get No Satisfaction".

Why has it all got
to be so terribly loud?

For me, frankly it's too loud.
I just can't bear it.

I happen to have grown up in the string
quartet which is a bit softer.

If one gets immune
to this kind of sound,

one may find it difficult to appreciate
softer types of sound.

Syd, yes, no?

- I don't think that's so.
- No?

Everybody listens, we don't need it
very loud to be able to hear it.

And with some of it
is very quiet in fact.

Do you in your turn feel aggressive
towards your audiences?

No, not at all.

In spite of all the loudness?

- No, not at all.
- Sorry?

There's not many young people
who dislike it.

- There's no shock treatment intended.
- No, certainly not.

When Syd Barrett
started writing for Pink Floyd,

he seemed to give it
this very English voice,

which was quite unusual at the time.

The Kinks were doing that,
I guess, as well.

He had a big attachment
to more intellectual realms,

to the whole Hilaire Belloc thing
and to Lewis Carroll.

He has a strange bridge

between Edwardian musical,
Vaudeville,

and his own particular
brand of English psychedelia.

When you heard that music,
it was in colour.

Everything else
was in black and white.

He's the Lake Poets.

He's an English romantic
of the 19th century.

He was not London 1966.

But he was London 1966.

He happened to be,
but that was a cloak he wore.

In his lyrics, there's a lot
of animal references.

There's a mouse called Gerald,
there's the elephant,

there's fairies, there's scarecrows,
there's cats.

It's a world that I was
always fascinated with.

In his songs
we have a painterly vision.

He evokes very strongly
references to sun,

to shining, to sea,
to sparkles, to water.

All these things
run through his songs

like a perpetual continuous thread.

Syd is a nature poet.

I heard at one point
that his whole diet

consisted of hash and poetry.

I think I tried to do that
at some point in my 20s.

He's the original punk rock icon
in what punk rock meant to me,

which was sort of breaking all
the rules and having fun with it

and the spirit of play.

To look good, to be able to play guitar,
to invent good melodies,

and also to produce lyrics
that made you think.

It's a very powerful set of fools
to have at your disposal.

Syd had all this
churning around in his Mina,

like the rest of us did,

but he makes connections that
are so unexpected and strange

that no one else in the world
could have made those connections.

Even early songs
like "Bike" for instance.

He'd written about a bike,

which of course is not a subject
that most lyricists write about.

They write about love
or death or illness or loss.

"I've got a bike,
you can ride it if you like."

"It's got a basket, a bell, a ring
and things that make it look good."

"I'd give it to you if I could,
but I borrowed it."

Where does this come from?

Every verse is like that I think.

I suppose things like "Bike"

was more of a structured
thing happening,

but sonically towards the end,

I've never really heard
anything like that.

A sort of over saturation
of sounds, clocks,

and then this
kind of repetitive sound

that sounded like a goose
attacking you.

- Like a what?
- Like a goose attacking.

Going into attack mode.

Quite disturbing.

The way LSD works, we now know,

is it stimulates
receptors in the brain

called serotonin receptors.

But a particular subtype
of serotonin receptor

called the 5-HT
or serotonin 2A receptor.

Psychedelic drugs like LSD
all work on those receptors

and what they do is
to interrupt the traditional way

in which the brain is organized.

Everything we do is orchestrated
in a very reflexive habitual way.

LSD, by turning on
those receptors disrupts that.

What then happens is that
your brain rather than doing

what it's been told to do by habit,
Starts to do its own thing.

If you have regular conversations
with God, or the angels

and they're saying
pleasant things to you,

telling you how great you are,
you don't want to lose that.

On the other hand,
if you're tormented by devils

or other persecutors,

you may nevertheless feel
that you're important enough

for the devil to take
an interest in you.

And that might give you enough kudos

to carry on with this situation
without telling other people.

There's a lot of interest in balance
between right brain and left brain.

In very simplistic terms,

the right brain is
the more creative, whole picture side.

The left brain is
the more focused, analytical side.

There's a little saying that
the problems in psychology are

when the right brain's got nothing left
and the left brain's got nothing right.

And there is a lot
of interesting discussion

about the link between
creativity and mental illness.

Carl Jung, the psychologist,

had this great insight
where he talked about,

from his studies,
of breakdown, mental illness,

he called it a "failed initiation".

What he meant by that,

which I think was a really
interesting thing to say,

was that often a breakdown
is an attempt at a breakthrough.

It's an attempt to come into
a new form of consciousness.

And it's either premature
or in some way it falters.

I remember one particular interlude
where We Went to see the Master,

that's Charan Singh Ji.

Which was a guru that we were
all thinking of following

in the heady days of psychedelia.

A few people there and then said
they wanted to become 'initiated'.

I don't like the word but anyway.

Syd had asked for initiation

and the Master
had said it's too early.

Did you know why he said that?

Well, there's quite of a lot
of commitment in Sant Mat,

which is vegetarianism,

and abstaining
from mind altering substances.

Is it possible
that the rejection affected Syd?

Rejection affects us all.

I think Charan Singh...

I don't know how deep
his insights were,

I think he had a lot,

but maybe he could see
what was going to happen to Syd.

When you broke up,
did you do it or did he do it?

It was me, I'm afraid.

He was a great lover, a good
boyfriend and you got rid of him?

Yeah.

Explain this to me, Jennifer Spires.

In the early days, he was lovely
cause he was very calm,

he was an artist.

I got on the train
at Cambridge at one end

and Syd got on the train
at the other end.

That's how we started living
at number 2 Earlham street.

The whole clan went
from there to 101 Cromwell Road.

101 Cromwell Road!

A den of iniquity if ever there was.

Extraordinary place.

They'd just puff away
at these enormous joints

and get completely
out of their heads.

I feel woozy even thinking about it.

You see Syd, and the Pink Floyd
were really beginning then

and things were taking off.

I think then, he was just
losing the plot slightly.

I remember we had a cat called Rover.
Well, that was Syd, wasn't it?

The Pink Floyd sound
was a perfect match

for the spontaneous underground
and its multimedia events.

With Barrett's
song writing output flourishing,

the Pink Floyd were on their way.

Gigging a punishing
four or five nights a week,

the group is approached
by Peter Jenner and Andrew King,

who promising to buy the band
some new equip men,

become their managers.

King and Jenner scheme o get
the band a record contract

by recording a few demo tracks
with American producer Joe Boyd,

who also runs the legendary UFO club
with John 'Hoppy' Hopkins.

The plan works and Pink Floyd sign
to EMI Records in February 1967.

The very next day they begin
recording for their debut album,

"The Piper at the Gales of Dawn"
with Norman Smith at Abbey Road.

In the studio next door,

The Beatles are making
their landmark LP "Sergeant Pepper".

There were a few casual songs
he'd written early.

But the one
which I'd call the first real,

showing 'where we were going song'
was "Arnold Layne".

"Arnold Layne" is released as
a single on the 10th of March.

Syd worked very hard
at "Arnold Layne".

He told me it had taken him
a couple of months

to write the lyric, to get it
just the way he wanted it.

- Really? It wasn't spontaneous?
- No.

This idea that Syd
rolled out of bed at lunchtime,

took some acid and wrote
a couple of genius songs

ls just absolute crap.

There's no such thing
as easy art, Storm, is there?

Otherwise we'd all be doing it.

Despite being banned
by Radio London for obscenity,

"Arnold Layne" reaches
number 20 in the singles chart

with the album
"Piper at the Gates of Dawn"”

reaching number six.

He was spectacular at the beginning.

From that Christmas,
through to the summer

when they released "Arnold Lao ye"

and then "The Piper",
Syd, and of course Hendrix,

were kind of the two
big psychedelic stars.

In May 1967, Pink Floyd announce
a multimedia psychedelic concert.

"Games For May",
at the Queen Elizabeth Hall.

Barrett has written
a new song for the event,

whose title also "Games for May",

changes to become
the era defining "See Emily Play".

He started innovating his music

with the Zippo lighter
on his Stratocaster

sliding it up and down.

In gigs, suddenly
he was using this Zippo lighter

to create these
incredibly eerie sounds.

"See Emily Play" ” becomes
the second Pink Floyd hit single,

earning the group
several crucial appearances

on the prime time BBC music show
Top of the Pops in July.

When "See Emily Play" went to
No. 5 or got into the top ten...

I remember it well.

I was really excited

and I'm wearing
all these stupid clothes.

Yeah, but it was exciting,
for God's sake.

It was very exciting

but I remember Syd
in the dressing room

sitting there
and he looked a bit glum

and I went, "Come on, what's up?"

He looked at me and he said,

"John Lennon
doesn't have to do this."

Even when things were going
as well as they could,

the band actually was stressful.

I remember we were in Trafalgar Square,
we'd been in Green Park,

and then it was time
to go to Top of the Pops.

Syd said, "I don't really fancy it."”

I said, "Well, yeah,
but it's a bit of a big deal."

There was the famous three weeks

that we did "See Emily Play"
on Top of the Pops.

The first week was fine,
Syd looks really good.

He's sitting cross legged
on a great big Indian cushion.

The second week, he arrived late,
looking very shambolic indeed.

Third week,
we couldn't find him anywhere.

I opened the door and Syd was there
looking totally freaked out.

His feet were bare and he said,
"Hi, can I come in?"

I said, "Of course you can come in."

And he didn't say anything.

Then there was a bang on the door

and somebody was like,
"Is Syd in there?"

Whoever this person was, came in
and just literally grabbed him

and dragged him out.

I think Syd Barrett was
interested in this total freedom

almost like a jazz, really.

A kind of 'divertimenti'.

I suppose trying to structure
or rein in this kind of energy

might have been
fairly difficult for him.

There'd been
a lot of weird stuff on stage

with Syd detuning guitars

and turning it
info a mind-numbing sound.

We were committed
to being a pop group

and Syd was absolutely
on the way to being,

"No, I don't actually
want to be a pop star."

The relentless gigging
and demands of stardom

are taking their toll
on Barrett's psyche.

I was living in France in '67,
and I came back to England.

I Went to see them recording

and something
had changed quite radically.

He had lost his spark and his bounce

and that was a very odd
and uncomfortable moment.

The three songs I think
that are really important,

'Jugband Blues',
"Scream Thy Last Scream"

and "Vegetable Man".

"Vegetable Man",
he wrote it in my room.

He sat in a corner and he just
wrote those lyrics down.

It was scary.

You had this skinny guy
who's just crying his heart out,

"That's why I am vegetable man."

You go, "Oh God."

Is that what you really think?

"Is that how you feel
about yourself now?"

It was all that classic
music business bollocks.

"Come on Syd,
where's the next single?"

He was a sensitive chap,
he wasn't hard boiled.

He didn't like all that pressure.

And he had a hell
of a lot of pressure.

It's like if you look
at Van Gogh's later pictures,

you get the same thing.

You can see the manifestation
of the turmoil in his brain

and all those things.

I think, in the same way
you can see the confusion

and everything within Syd's brain.

Both "Vegetable Man"
and "Scream Thy Last Scream”

are deemed uncommercial
by the record company.

And "Jugband Blues" is held over
for the next Pink Floyd album.

"Apples and Oranges",
a song written by Syd

about his girlfriend
Lindsay Korner shopping,

is finally chosen by EM/
as Pink Floyd's third single.

It is released
in November and is a flop.

Did you ever see him perform
with Pink Floyd?

Yeah, I did once.

I went to the Roundhouse
but it wasn't any fun.

It wasn't.

He didn't look
as if he was enjoying it

and so it wasn't
anything I did again.

Do you agree in any way
about the family's view

which is they blame
rock and roll for Syd's decline?

I think that's not
an unreasonable position.

I don't think he would
have liked not to have done it.

He got into it,
he was very happy doing it.

It was good fun.

It was sad to see him go downhill.
You could see by his eyes.

He would be looking sort of...

He wouldn't look at you,
he'd be looking into space.

With hopes of breaking America
and despite concerns about Syd,

the band set off
for a mini tour of the US.

You're there with Syd who was
Just an artist who wrote songs

and was having a good time
and liked listening to music,

playing in a band
and, "Wow, isn't this groovy?"

Able to go and buy a new shirt,
have your hair frizzed

and do all these things
that you could do.

- Buy some new boots.
- Yeah, all that stuff.

Gosh, got some money
coming and, "Oh wow."

Then, people started
asking him the meaning of life.

He was as it were
the pinup boy of the revolution.

That was probably very strange
going to America

cause, "Wow, I'm in America now."

I'm doing the Fillmore.

Wow! And these guys give me
this nice acid.

"Wahey! Oh, wow." You know.

Are you telling me
you and Syd got picked up

by a couple of Californian blondes?

Exactly that,
with those straight eyebrows.

Yes, everybody would dream
about this story.

- And this happened to you.
- It happened to Syd and I.

But we were young kids from England

where this sort of thing
was fucking...

There was lots of dope
and lots of everything

and Syd was very happy.

Until we returned.

I think, then, it would be
the gig in Los Angeles

which was probably
the worst gig of all.

These gentlemen you're about to meet

are on their first visit
to the United States.

They've only been here less
than a week as a matter of fact.

Would you greet them warmly please,
The Pink Floyd!

- Rick lip-synched it.
- Because?

Because Syd wouldn't sing,
couldn't sing, wouldn't sing.

He just stood there.

That was a tricky tour.

- Syd, did you write this?
- Yeah.

I noticed on the album you wrote
most of the songs, is that true?

Yeah, that's right.

We did a TV show in Los Angeles,

he just walked out of the studio
and disappeared.

- For a reason?
- No.

Let me wish you, gentlemen,
all very good luck.

I hope you enjoy your stay,
get some sleep

and get something other than
cheeseburgers during your stay.

Thank you very much.
Nick, nice to see you.

When Syd became unreliable,
! Think we really almost hated him,

because we were so dependent on him.

By the time Andrew came back from
America, it was definitely a problem.

One of the more
contentious rumors is the idea

that he might have been given acid
every morning in his coffee.

Did Rick say something?

He reckoned that Syd's downfall
came about by his hangers-on.

Then, people who are writing
books or doing interviews,

they think, "Who were
his friends at that time?"

"So and so."”

- Jock and Sue in this case?
- Yeah.

Apparently we're living in Richmond,
we used to get up every morning,

we all sit around the breakfast table,
we would then spike Syd.

It's absolute fucking bollocks.

Maybe that's also
a quality of rumors.

It's quite good
if your hero is flawed

because of somebody else's
rather than their own.

Better for him to be spiked

than to have him gone to them and said,
"Oh, can I have some acid now?"

In a way, it would have been
much easier for all of us

if Syd had said,
"I'm really fucked up.

I'm really sorry, I can't cope
any more. Can you help me?"

So we were always trying to help him
without him giving any indication

that he had any desire
or need for help.

I remember taking Syd
to Ronnie Laing's

and him refusing
to get out of the car.

Not that I'm convinced Ronnie Laing

would have been able
to do a huge amount for him.

As psychiatrists and psychotherapists

who profess to be able

to be of some service to people

in distressed states of mind,

we cannot expect to be of any help

beyond pulling people
back to this side.

Into this socially reinforced,

totalitarian,
egalitarian, quantitative,

dequantified,
de-experientialized dead world.

Where there's no fun or joy

or any genuine
celebration of anything

because all that is life
and science is studying death.

You could argue that some forms
of so-called madness

are strong moves to retain freedom.

You could also argue
at a certain level,

he could see that the success of
the Floyd was reducing his freedom.

He was playing us
this song in a rehearsal

and the song was called
"Have you got it yet?".

And basically, the song would alter
so that the chorus was, "No, no, no."

Syd would alter the rhythmic pattern

or do whatever was necessary to ensure
that no, they hadn't got it yet.

- Or couldn't.
- Or couldn't get it.

Or might never have got it.

Stories are legion
about Syd's alarming behaviour

on stage during this period.

Playing one note for an entire show,

or slowly detuning his strings
until they fell limp on the guitar.

Live bootleg recordings however,

capture several
inspired performances.

Nevertheless, on a small
package tour with Jimi Hendrix,

The Move and a few other bands,

Barret would sometimes
need to be replaced

by David O'List from The Nice.

As far back as 1965, Syd himself
had written to Libby Gausden

suggesting his old friend
David Gilmour should join the group

referring to him as 'Fred...

What became known as the Fred plan'
was now put info effect.

Looking back on it,

I can see that
they all played a distinct part

in the success of Pink Floyd.

You had Roger who had
this massive determination,

Rick's musical sophistication
and you've got Nick's showmanship.

For several shows, the band
performs as a five-piece

in the hope of keeping Syd around.

We'd already tried three
or four gigs as a five-piece.

It was a very uncomfortable feeling

but I think we were
absolutely geared to this idea.

It wasn't a matter
of trying Dave out,

I think we loved the idea
of having him in the band.

Do you recall what happened
on what I called 'The day'?

I can't remember where
Syd was living at the time.

- We were all...
- Were you on the way to a gig?

Yeah, we were absolutely
on the way to a gig.

Everyone else had been picked up,
SO we were on the way to pick Syd up

and someone said,
"Shall we bother?" more or less.

There was this sort of moment
and we went,

"Do you know what? Let's not."

Syd's last gig with Pink Floyd

was on the 20th of January, 1968
at Hastings Pier.

Do you think it's understandable then
that they had to move on as it were?

That's the way it works.

It's animal husbandry.

I'm amazed
that they managed to recover

from losing
their main creative drive.

No, it's not amazing they recovered,

they became the pop group
that they always desired to be.

Once David Gilmour's in there,
that's the beginning of something else.

It's the beginning of the Pink Floyd

that became very successful
later on with "Meddle'",

"Dark Side of the Moon"
and "Wish you Were Here”.

When the Floyd broke up,

you and Peter, as Blackhill,
as I understand,

elected to continue with Syd.

We made a particularly astute
commercial decision.

That's two verses.

Sorry, I'll do it again.

Syd came to live with us
at Egerton Court

which is the flat that we had
in the centre of London in South Ken.

I went there,
you were there and Po was there,

Nigel and Jenny, they had
the smart room at the front.

How was Syd doing those days?
Do you remember?

He was unpredictable then.
He was very unpredictable.

I don't think anybody
in the flat realised.

Just how bad Syd had become.

He began locking himself in his room
for several days with Lindsay.

There were rows,
all sorts of things going on.

I had the small room
adjacent to the large room

in which he and Lindsay lived.

I could hear him tickling her,
which sounded harmless enough,

and then she'd scream at him
to stop tickling and he wouldn't.

I can't remember what happened but
he pushed me over and jumped on me.

That's when I called out
and you came in.

Syd decided that presumably the
relationship was not as it should be

and seemed to be
attacking her with a mandolin.

Then the next day
you took me home to Cambridge.

- Don't you remember?
- Yeah.

But was this the end of you and Syd?

Oh yes, that was it.

Syd's apparent malaise, shall we say,
didn't appear initially.

I thought he was charming
and good company.

This was his very room.

Dave Gilmour lived in Richmond Mansions,
one street away.

We could see from our kitchen
info his kitchen.

Syd goes back into Abbey Road studios
to begin recording some demos.

With the support
of Peter Jenner, Malcolm Jones,

David Gilmour and Roger Waters,

these sessions, though difficult,
would result in his first solo album,

"The Madcap Laughs".

In the first lot of sessions

you couldn't get an honest
answer to an honest question.

"Shall we do that again?"

No reply.

"I think that was really good,
can we try that again?"

No reply.

"Would you want to go
and play a bit more?"

Then, he would go out and maybe
play a bit more or maybe not.

Is it on?

There'd been quite
a considerable amount of time

and money gone into it

and EMI had decided
to more or less pull the plug.

Roger and I asked them
if we could finish it off

and they gave us
something like three days.

We stuck him in the studio and
recorded everything and anything

that we could get him to do.

The end result is a pretty fair portrait
of him at the time.

And I think his writing
probably was better

than the writing
on "Piper at the Gates of Dawn".

"Where are you now pussy willow
who smiled on this leaf?"

You go,
"What the fuck is that about?"

He's still making
these extraordinary connections

with the deepest feelings of,

"Can I or can I not make contact
with other human beings?"

Which is the stuff of all our lives.

Storm and I had a company
called Hipgnosis

and we were asked
to do the album cover.

Storm went to photograph
Syd with Mick Rock.

He had a flat in which he'd painted
the floorboards blue and red,

I think for the photo session,
which is pretty amazing.

What was interesting about the floor
is there was all this rubble

because he'd paint
over the cigarette butts

and various bits
of debris in the room.

I took a photo of Syd crouched
a bit like an animal really.

I took a ton of them foo,
it wasn't just Storm.

And Iggy the Eskimo, who was
never really his girlfriend

because these were hippie times.

I think she lingered
for a couple of weeks.

On the back cover
was a picture of a naked woman

who was an Eskimo,

but liked, whether Syd was there or not,
to walk around naked.

He said, "This is Iggy, why don't you
put her in the picture?"

I said, "Fine."

"The Madcap Laughs" is released

on EMI's new progressive imprint,
Harvest, in January 1970.

It reaches number 40
in the UK charts.

Successful enough for EMI
to finance the recording

of Syd's second
solo album, "Barrett".

There was more time
so we could relax a little bit more

and try and do things
in a slightly different way.

We lived around the corner
from each other,

we being myself and Willie Wilson.

He and I shared a flat in Chelsea.

Syd lived around the corner.

We'd try and get him to
play along with the band,

but he'd never do it the same twice.

So usually it meant we'd cut
a backing track without him

and then get him to put
some stuff on it afterwards.

Rick came along
and helped a bit on that one.

All I ever saw was Dave wanting
to get the best out of Syd

he could possibly get,
which was not easy.

We just followed him
wherever he went.

Sometimes, it just kept falling down
and falling over itself

and sometimes it got interesting.

He wrote some pretty
unusual chord sequences

and found some unusual melodies
to sit on the top of it

and wrote fascinating lyrics.

Even though some around that
Wetherby Mansions time are very moody,

there's quite a lot of them
he's laughing in.

Released in November, "Barrett"
would be Syd's final studio album.

It fails to chart.

Can you recall
when you first met Syd?

He came running up
looking like a rock star

with his velvet jeans on,
his velvet jacket

and his Chelsea boots on.

He looked and I thought,
"Ooh, wow, it's Syd Barrett."

He had a spare room.

I wasn't sure
at that stage whether it was,

"Come and live with me," ” or...

- "Would you like a room?"
- "I've got a room."

- "Give us some money."
- Yeah, "Give us some money."

He was pretty strange.

He'd just open the door
and come in the room

and that would be it.

I thought it was kind of great
to have a boyfriend like that

rather than a bloke
working in Barclays Bank.

In support of the "Madcap Laughs"
and "Barrett" albums,

Syd records a session for influential
Radio 1 DJ, John Peel.

And on the 6th of June 1970,
he plays a gig,

his first for two years,
at the Olympia Exhibition Hall

with David Gilmour on bass guitar
and Jerry Shirley on drums.

After just a few songs, however,
Syd abruptly walks off stage.

He decided at one stage that
he no longer wanted to be a pop star.

He went out and bought canvases,
tons of pots of paint and brushes

and he locked himself in that room
and painted day and night.

Every time
I was allowed to see a canvas,

the next time I saw It
it would either be destroyed

or he'd painted all over it.

Try and keep up with Duggie,
'him next door'.

He never used his name, it was
'him next door' or 'that painter'.

You've got two aspects of
his personality though, haven't you?

You've got Roger and Syd.

Syd was the musician,

Roger was maybe a would-be artist
but Roger never found his way.

He put a layer of hessian
over the curtains

so he had this darkened room
that he lived in.

People would stand outside
his door knocking and going,

"Syd, let me in,"
for hours sometimes.

I moved back to Cambridge
and Duggie had called me and said,

"This is getting crazy."

I don't know what he was doing but he'd
been in his room for days and nights

and hadn't come out.

I contacted Syd and I said,
"Why didn't you come to Cambridge?"

And somehow it was like
we were back together again.

So, I moved in.

- Into Hills Road?
- Into Hills Road.

- Into the cellar?
- Into the cellar with Syd.

It was all dark,
it was originally a coal cellar.

It had all his bits and pieces
from his childhood there,

his drawings,
his paintings and his guitar.

And it was all very normal.

Mrs Barrett would come
rushing out and say,

"Oh, hello dear, hello dear.
What about a cup of tea?"

Rog, would you like a cup of tea?”

We became engaged.

Mum organized this big Sunday lunch.

This is the time when Syd threw
a bowl/ of tomato soup over me.

It was a normal Sunday lunch
and Syd just went, whoops!

Then, he stood up from the table,
laughed, disappeared,

and came down,
and he'd cut all his hair off.

I'd gone back to my parents.

The next day, a letter arrived

saying that the engagement
was officially off.

"Yours sincerely, R.K. Barrett."

I got another lefter
from him two days later

saying, "Dear Gala,
! Think we should get married.

Ignore the letter
I sent you yesterday.

Lots of love, Syd."

We went up to London and bought
another engagement ring.

So there's always two.
Two rings and two parts of Syd.

Two rings and two letters.

Syd's relationship
with Gala Pinion would end

when he became convinced
she was having an affair

with a colleague
in the local department store.

Gala would be the last
of Barrett's girlfriends.

He became more reclusive
when he returned to London

and he was living
in Chelsea Cloisters.

Sightings of Syd become less frequent

with just the odd lurid story
in the papers

and occasional
visits to the local pub

or to the office
of his music publishers.

When we were still at NEMS,
which was early '70s,

and he started coming
to those offices,

that's when we realised he didn't have
any money or very little money.

We talked about it and he said

he didn't know where his money
and his royalties were.

So we said, "That's easy, we'll write
to Essex, we'll write to EMI,

we'll write to PRS and find out
where your royalties are."

I use the phrase
very loosely, "Poor Syd."

Of course,
Brian being a money man,

he went "Poor Syd?"

He made two and a half
million quid last year.”

I said, "God, where do you keep
all your guitars? You've got loads."

He said, "I've got
another flat for them."

He said, "John Lennon's got
lots of guitars."

With royalties from Pink Floyd sales

and David Bowie's cover of
"See Emily Play" on his "Pin Ups"” album,

Syd would move
back and forth between London

and the small back bedroom in
his mother's house in Cambridge

for the next 12 years or so.

While in Cambridge, Jenny Spires
Introduces Barrett to her husband,

bass player Jack Monk and drummer
Twink from The Pink Fairies.

After several impromptu jam sessions,
the trio formed the group Stars

and play a handful of gigs locally.

We'd like to bring Syd Barrett
up to the band stand.

Would you come on?
How about a hand for Syd Barrett?

All appears to be going well

but following
a disastrous gig with MC5

and a negative review
in Melody Maker, Syd leaves the group.

He will never play in public again.

A year later, Pink Floyd release
"Dark Side of The Moon"

and hit the fop of
the US Billboard album charts.

It remains one of
the best-selling records of all time.

As Pink Floyd's success
and fame grows,

Peter Jenner persuades Syd
to return to Abbey Road.

After three days in the studio
producing just a handful of riffs,

the sessions are abandoned.

In 1975, Pink Floyd records
their ninth studio album,

the concept record
"Wish You Were Here",

again reaching number one
on the Billboard charts.

Written as a tribute to Syd,
"Shine on You Crazy Diamond",

a 25-minute-long track
made up of nine parts

book ends the album.

The last personal abiding memory
I have of Syd was at Abbey Road

when he turned up, remarkably,

at the recording
of "Shine on You Crazy Diamond"

but I didn't realise it was him.

I was sitting in my usual place
in the control room of Studio 3.

I heard the door go, looked round

and there was this chap
standing in the back of the room

who was slightly portly,
with a shaven head and a raincoat on.

I just assumed he was something
to do with the studio.

You would occasionally
get odd people popping in.

I had been doing
something in the studio.

I don't know what
but I'd been in the studio.

So I came into the control room

to find the band all looking
a little bit weird.

It took a little while.

I don't recall whether it was Roger
or David who realised that it was Syd.

I was waiting for someone to
either say, "This is so and so."

Or for someone to say "Security
are coming any minute now."

For someone
who'd come in off the street.

Dave looked at me and he said,
"Do you know who that is?"

I went, "No."

And he said, "It's Syd."

He hadn't been seen for six years.

He asked if he could help.

Syd came in and sat down,

David and Roger
started talking to him.

I then took this opportunity
to snap a couple of photos

with the camera that
I'd only had a couple of days

as a present from the band
after we'd done Knebworth.

It turns out I was using
a slow speed outdoor film.

So pictures indoors
are a little bit grainy.

Roger had Brian Humphries, the engineer
play him the end of "Shine On'",

which features the melody line
of "See Emily Play".

Roger asked him afterwards
if he recognised it

and Syd just said no.

Very blank, "No."

Syd did pick up the Martin,

the D-35 guitar
in the control room there.

I don't think he played
anything in particular.

Then what happened?

Nothing, we carried on working,
as far as I remember.

Probably a little bit shell shocked.

Rick was terribly upset
and Roger cried.

Often people forget that
although Syd was a huge talent,

this is a talent that was
all foo soon lost to us.

And that the band, had loved him.

Remember when you were young,
you shone like the sun.

Shine on you crazy diamond.

Now there's a look in your eyes
like black holes in the sky.

Shine on you crazy diamond.

You were caught in the crossfire
of childhood and stardom.

Blown on the steel breeze.

Come on you stranger,
you legend, you martyr and shine.

In spite of his now cult status

in the eyes of a new generation
of fans and musicians,

in 1978 Barrett sells the rights to
his solo albums to the record company.

By 1981, he's facing
bankruptcy proceedings.

In 1982, Syd walks the 50 miles
from London back to Cambridge,

returning home for the last time.

He had enormous blisters on his feet

and he was lying
on the sofa with his feet up

trying to get these blisters mended.

He just wanted to get home
and he hadn't got any money.

You've got to remember that he never
did a day's work in his life,

getting a salary or a wage packet.

He never had that, so he never
actually grew up to be responsible

because he never needed to.

And I suppose all of us,
if we didn't need to, we wouldn't do it.

It's more fun being a child, isn't it?

We used to go out in the car,

go lo areas where he could
photograph for a painting.

So we spent a lot of time
at Grantchester, which is just nearby.

He went back to Cambridge and
his art very much reflects that.

You could say
it's a return to landscape.

- What happened to the work?
- He wasn't keen on keeping his works.

It's not that he didn't care
for them afterwards

because he did take photos of them.

But he did tend to destroy work.

Syd made things and then seemed
to destroy them, or so we're told,

and I'm wondering what that means.

Maybe he didn't like
foo much clutter.

It's called 'Syd's Feng Shui'.

He needed a lot of support.

He was distressed.

For 25 years or so
he was my responsibility.

I cared for him.

He'd come on his bike and
he'd got a canvas shopping bag,

very much an old person's thing.

I said to him,
"Do you know who I am?"

And he said, "Yes, I do.
It's Libby isn't it?"

I said, "Yes, it is."

And we talked for a little while.

That's a strange question to ask,
"Do you know who I am?"

I know who you are,
you don't have to ask me.

I did have to ask him,
he looked different.

He totally moved on
and didn't like that person,

he didn't like that world
and didn't want to be reminded of it.

When people came
to the door, he'd say,

"Syd doesn't live here anymore."

Because he didn't.

He wasn't Syd anymore.

I think it's most unlikely
that you can reinvent yourself,

that you can become an ordinary bloke
who goes down the pub and plays darts

when you've been a rock star,

when you've been in the hit
parade and then you're not.

Do you think people like
to embroider and romance things?

He's perfect for rumors.

A magnetic person
who's had so much impact

and the band went on going on
being more and more successful.

And where was Syd?

Perfect for rumors.

I know the Daily Mail
on a quiet celebrity period,

would rediscover him
every three years, you know.

"The mad genius of Pink Floyd."

I have a feeling that underneath
a lot of this is a sadness.

Yes, but you don't know, you see.

What was he thinking on his
bicycle in Cambridge on his own?

We can talk about it forever
but we won't know.

It's not for us to say
how people should be.

Of course, it would have been
great if he'd gone on

to produce stuff all his life,
but he didn't.

And why?

You could say
he was in a weather system,

something bigger than him
that turned him over.

And it was sunny
for the first two weeks

and it rained for six years.

There was a tragedy being played out
partly self-induced.

In the end, it's a tragic tale

and tragic tales resonate
with us in a different way

and perhaps more
acutely than tales of triumph.

Out in Idaho,
they know who Pink Floyd are.

They probably don't know
who Syd Barrett is.

He's the old singer in the band
that I love, which is Pink Floyd.

The band we know Floyd to be now,
wouldn't be here without Syd.

But it doesn't really bear
much resemblance

to the band that Syd was in.

What would it have sounded like
if he had stayed in the band?

I would hope
that he would be able to see

what a beautiful thing
it ended up being.

He did things for their own sake

and he depended heavily
on his own childhood memories.

But I think that's also
a good lesson to us all,

to go back inside yourselves
and see what you can find.

Now I don't understand
how boring music can be,

when at one point
somebody was trying to put

so much into four minutes
worth of listening

and the ear was entertained.

I hope that young people think twice
because look what can happen.

It'd be nice to think
that people could learn a bit.

There are some people who must
have a weakness of some sort

that is like a switch
waiting to be turned.

And that switch will go and
they'll never quite come back.

! think it's really hard
to not feel something.

We probably did
about as much as we could.

We were all very young.

- But I have a regret or two.
- In what form?

That I never went to see him.

His family kind of discouraged it.

Maybe we should have.

I regret that I never went up
to his house in Cambridge.

- In the '80s you mean?
- '80s, '90s, 2000s.

I didn't go either.

None of us did,
but I think, in retrospect,

both Syd and I
might have gained something

out of one or two people
popping around to his house

for a cup of tea.

There's this bloke who changed the lives
of everyone around him.

- Yeah, I think...
- It's a terrible story.

- Sorry?
- It's a terrible story, Storm.

- It's a sad story.
- It's a very, very sad story.

Is it a sad story? I wonder.

I don't think so, Storm, no.

- Sorry?
- I don't think so.

I hope not.

I suppose it's because
I partly feel he was unfulfilled

but that's just my projection
rather than what he felt.

Yeah.

Well, all right,
it's sad in this way.

We thought we were moving
in this wonderful direction to utopia.

We were fully engaged
in the hip dream

and it was a dream.

We had spiritual heights
in our sights and Syd too.

Do you have anything to tell me?

Yeah.

OK, Syd.

I can't, I sort of...

I can't really say.

If you were, hypothetically,
to write a letter to Syd...

Writing to him now? Yeah.

It would take me ages, I think.

I would say that he was a good man.
"You were a good man."

And it's terribly sad
what happened to you.

Sorry about all the rubbish
that gets written about you

"and the silly stories that get told."

"I'm glad that you managed
to get away from all that madness

that was going on
in London around your life.

And I hope that you were happy."

I'd say, "Syd come back,"
because he became Roger

and I don't think
Roger was any happier.

A lot of people think my career
started with David Bowie

and I'd have to say, well, of course,
really the beginning was Syd Barrett.

So, thank you Syd.

I always go back, revisit his work,

and it's always as good as I get
older and my understanding grows.

For me, he's like the perfect artist.

So, I'd like to give him a hug.

It's very interesting
that you bring up memory.

And clearly this whole story
that you're trying to tell about Syd

depends upon the memories
of people of our age.

Slippery memories, aren't they?

Well, we all know that we make up
memories to suit our egos.

- Thank you very much.
- No.

That was great.

It was nice to be led gently back.

It's actually quite emotional

standing up here with these
three guys after all these years.

Standing to be counted
with the rest of you.

Anyway, we're doing this
for everybody who's not here,

and particularly, of course, for Syd.

Syd, are you ready?

- Yeah.
- Off you go.

I'll do it on fop, right?

I'll start again.