Acknowledgements
I would like to begin by thanking the members of the Barrett family whose consent and co-operation made my task far less complicated than it might have been. To sister Rosemary for photographic material, artworks, and unique and previously unaired insights into Syd’s pre and post fame life, brother Don for the family tree and comments on the Cambridge High School for Boys, and nephew Ian for glimpses of ‘Uncle Rog’.
For sensory perceptions beyond the call of duty, thanks to the Cambridge ‘band of brothers and sisters’, Syd’s fellow questers from the County and Perse schools, and the Tech College canteen; namely Andrew Rawlinson, David Gale, Anthony Stern, Nigel and Jenny Lesmoir-Gordon, David Henderson, Seamus and Victoria O’Connell, Bob Klose, Stephen Pyle, Geoff Mottlow and John De Bruyne.
I also spoke to several old school friends who had never been interviewed before. Geoff Leyshon, Terry Mahoney, Chris Rayner, Richard Trim and John Wilson were all able to shed fresh light on the boy they once shared a classroom or a Scout hall with.
For background information and historical documentation on the Cambridge High School for Boys thank you to unofficial school archivist and ‘keeper of the keys’ Nick Wise.
For additional information regarding Syd’s father, Max, I am grateful to Jan Moore, secretary of the Cambridge Philharmonic. Thanks to Bryan Biggs of the Bluecoat Arts Centre in Liverpool for sharing his essay on Stuart Sutcliffe, ‘A link into something larger’, that appeared in the catalogue for the exhibition Stuart Sutcliffe; a retrospective, 2008-9, at the Victoria Gallery & Museum, Liverpool University. Thanks to Moya L. Andrews, Professor of Speech and Hearing Sciences Emerita, at Indiana University, Bloomington and Lizzie MacGregor at the Scottish Poetry Library for helping me crack the enigma code and for locating literature which influenced Syd’s songwriting. For other invaluable documentation and memorabilia I am grateful to David Parker, Mark Jones, Jonathan Hemington, Kieran Short and ‘Granchester’. And thank you David May for putting invaluable contacts my way and vouching for my general good-eggness.
In a book of this size and scope it is only fair that I should also thank the great unsung, those, too numerous to mention, who either knew Syd directly, or were connected by association, but had no great revelations or anecdotes to impart, only their fond memories and best wishes for my project. Each of these unsung sources provided testimony to the richness of Syd’s creative milieu and the impressive cultural resonance and reach of his wider network of friends. They are perhaps best exemplified by Victoria Allen, widow of the artist and illustrator Julian Allen, a contemporary of Syd’s at the Tech College, who was responsible in 1994 for the illustrations which put Syd’s beloved Ma Rainey and Howlin’ Wolf on American postage stamps. How cool and apposite is that?
A very special thank-you to Libby and Neil Chisman for their kind hospitality, food at their table and a view of the sea to die for. Libby grew up as Libby Gausden at 157 Hills Road Cambridge. Thirteen doors down the road lived a boy called Roger. Libby’s surviving cache of letters from 1961-5 is undoubtedly the most valuable collection of primary Syd source material in existence. Libby’s decision to return Syd’s extensively annotated diaries to their rightful owner in 1971, which he subsequently burnt, remains one of the great haunting ‘if only’s of this entire project.
For comments on Syd’s art life at Camberwell thanks to Stan Willis and Maggi Hambling. For insights into his ‘money tryingtoget, smokydark’ London pop life thank you Barry Miles, John ‘Hoppy’ Hopkins, Peter Jenner, Andrew King, Emily Young, Joe Boyd, Keith Rowe, Lawrence Sheaff, Pete Brown, Hester Page, Spike Hawkins, Stash De Rollo, Duggie Fields, Jenny Fabian, Pete Drummond, Kevin Ayers, Hugh Hopper (RIP), Mike Ratledge, Mick Rock, Nick Kent, Chris Welch and Michael Watts.
For archive material on Notting Hill, and for being my psychogeographic tour guide, thank you, Tom Vague. For their observations on Syd’s brief time back in Cambridge in the early 1970s and his last attempt at forming a band thanks to Jack Monck and Fred Frith. And for her blessing and support, Jenny Spires. For fond remembrance of the Syd who used to hang out in the Lupus Music office thanks to Cora Barnes.
For insights into Syd’s time at Chelsea Cloisters thanks to Ronnie Salmon. For comments on his later life at St Margaret’s Square, Cambridge thanks to Radha and the ubiquitous ‘anon’. For being uber-fans and for keeping and spreading the faith, thanks to Robyn Hitchcock and Graham Coxon.
For access to the full tape transcripts of his interviews with Messrs Gilmour, Mason, Waters and Wright thank you John Edginton, producer of the Pink Floyd and Syd Barrett TV documentary and DVD. The individual members of the Pink Floyd declined to be interviewed for this book and sadly Rick Wright passed away on 15 September 2008, but David Gilmour provided some invaluable last-minute corrections and amendments at copy-editing stage.
To the Faber and Faber family, especially my editor Lee Brackstone, for letting me be ‘on the same label’ as T. S. Eliot and Alan Bennett. ‘Now I know how groups feel when they join EMI, and say I’m on the same label as the Beatles,’ I said, backstage at the Games For May tribute concert at the Queen Elizabeth Hall in 2007. ‘That’s how we felt,’ said a voice from an adjacent conversation. It was Graham Coxon.
Paul Loasby and Andy Murray, on behalf of the Syd Barrett Estate and the official website www.sydbarrett.com, allowed me unhindered access to Syd’s artwork and other illustrative material. Their generosity of spirit and support was vital in the latter stages of this book’s development.
Penultimately, to my agent Sarah Such, for acting on my best impulses, for moderating my worst ones, for being a ruthlessly firm but fair taskmaster, and for convincing Faber and Faber in the first place.
Ultimately thank you to my wife Caroline, archivist extraordinaire and soulmate. Thank you for indulging my own irregular head, and my pop clouding, and for joining in. Caroline’s influence and input threads through this book in ways that it would take a lifetime to explain. One evening in a state of rare contentment I said, ‘I know how all the pieces fit.’ I’ll always treasure her reply. ‘Rob,’ she said. ‘You have your dinner on your face.’