Syd Barrett's two solo LPs were among my favorite pieces of vinyl when I discovered them during my late teens. I was enchanted by the weirdness and deceptive simplicity of the music, curiously detached singing and surreal and indecipherable poetry. I sensed there was something wonderful beyond the surface, a mystery that rendered these albums different from everything else I had heard until then. I guess that this is result of getting drawn into the world of a mad genius. Genius being the key word here. Usually, mental illness is off-putting, an obstacle to communication, and a cause for uneasiness and emotions of pity towards the person that suffers from it. But madness like Barrett's is captivating, like seeing pieces of a puzzle that you sense would reveal a wonderful picture if assembled - only that assemblage is impossible without the key of that special madness. In the mid 60's, 20-year old Barrett was the undisputed leader of Pink Floyd, a band at the forefront of the new psychedelic movement. Then, during late '67 - early '68, he started faltering. His behavior got more erratic, he missed gigs, and if he was present he was often unable to play a single note, just standing there and staring at nothingness. Whether his mental illness was created or only exacerbated by LSD, drugs certainly played a role in his condition. His bandmates first drafted in Barrett's high school pal David Gilmour to substitute for him when he couldn't perform, and then ousted Syd from the group altogether. Hard as it may seem, it was a sensible decision for a band with ambitions. Those who didn't know how deep Barrett's problems went thought that Pink Floyd wouldn't get very far without their leader - indeed Barrett wasn't just the lead singer and guitarist but the principal songwriter as well, having written most of the songs on their debut and all the early singles including Top 20 hits "Arnold Layne" and "See Emily Play". Even the band's managers chose Barrett over the rest of Pink Floyd and quickly booked a studio for him to record his first solo album. The recording lasted on and off for a year, and was a tortuous process for everyone. Barrett had many half-baked ideas, but couldn't finish any of them, and even when something worked he was unable to repeat it. The album, called Madcap Laughs, was finally finished with the help of former bandmates Roger Waters and David Gilmour who took time out of Pink Floyd's busy schedule to help their old friend. It was released in January 1970, although the original recordings dated from '68 - '69. It was a weird folky lo-fi experience with flashes of the old genius, but proved successful enough for EMI to give the green light for a sequel. The sequel, simply named Barrett, was produced by Gilmour and Pink Floyd organist Richard Wright. The two of them, alongside drummer John Shirley, also function as Barrett's backing band. Compared to its predecessor, the production here is fuller, sometimes even sounding like the work of a real band - which is a testament to Gilmour's talent and persistence to first coax Barrett into giving a coherent performance and then to orchestrate it somehow so as to resemble a pop song despite Barrett's idiosyncratic sense of timing. Two songs are particularly successful in recreating that band sound - and both were influential enough to have bands named after them: "Baby Lemonade" and "Gigolo Aunt". The former features a great guitar part that didn't originally belong to the song but was stuck at its beginning by Gilmour who thus transformed a piece of absent-minded noodling into the perfect song intro. Although relatively upbeat musically, it's still a rather bleak song (sample lyric "I’m screaming, I met you this way/ You're nice to me like ice"). Richard Wright's distinctive keyboards on both songs evoke similarities to Pink Floyd's early psychedelic pop singles. "Love Song" is just a sweet tune, and Wright's contribution on piano and organ give it a charming baroque air. "Dominoes" is nostalgic with a rather lethargic vocal, and "Is It Obvious" a disjointed folk ditty. "Rats" and "Wolfpack" are also difficult, featuring louder vocals and discordant acoustic guitars without any melody. "Maisy" is a throwback to Pink Floyd's blues roots, sounding a bit like a drowsy John Lee Hooker on barbiturates. "Waving My Arms in the Air/ I Never Lied to You" and "Wined And Dined" are a couple of affable psychedelic folk tunes, while closer "Effervescing Elephant" is a quirky children's rhyme about zoo animals with playful vocal and whimsical tuba backing - more reminiscent of Bonzo Dog or the Monty Pythons than of Pink Floyd. Barrett contains Syd's last songs; soon afterwards he disappeared from public life altogether, moved back to his mother's house in Cambridge and never played music again, preferring other hobbies like painting, photography, and gardening. The insect painting on the album cover is one of his own, by the way. Both his LPs are wonderful examples of whimsical and quintessentially British psychedelic pop. The melodies are usually quite lovely and wordplay occasionally brilliant, with a superficial childlike innocence hiding a sometimes dark and desperate underbelly. After all these years, Madcap and Barrett retain their mystery and charm, and I never get tired of them. Unconventional, but highly recommended - just don't expect to hear anything similar to The Wall or Dark Side Of The Moon.
***** for Baby Lemonade, Love Song, Dominoes, Gigolo Aunt, Effervescing Elephant
**** for Rats, Waving My Arms in the Air/I Never Lied to You
*** for It Is Obvious, Maisie, Wined and Dined, Wolfpack
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