“I don't think I'm easy to talk about. I've got a very
irregular head. And I'm not anything that you think I am
anyway.”—Syd Barrett’s last interview, Rolling
Stone, 1971
Roger Keith “Syd” Barrett (1946–2006) was, by all accounts,
the very definition of a golden boy. Blessed with good
looks and a natural aptitude for painting and music, he was
a charismatic, elfin child beloved by all, who fast became
a teenage leader in Cambridge, England, where a burgeoning
bohemian scene was flourishing in the early 1960s. Along
with three friends and collaborators—Roger Waters, Richard
Wright, and Nick Mason—he formed what would soon become
Pink Floyd, and rock ’n’ roll was never the same. Starting
as a typical British cover band aping approximations of
American rhythm ’n’ blues, they soon pioneered an entirely
new sound, and British psychedelic rock was born. With
early, trippy, Barrett-penned pop hits such as “Arnold
Layne” (about a clothesline-thieving cross-dresser) and
“See Emily Play” (written specifically for the epochal
“Games For May” concert), Pink Floyd, with Syd Barrett as
their main creative visionary, captured the zeitgeist of
“Swinging” London in all its Technicolor glory.
But there was a dark side to all this new-found freedom.
Barrett, like so many around him, began ingesting large
quantities of a revolutionary new drug, LSD, and his
already-fragile mental state—coupled with a personality
inherently unsuited to the life of a pop star—began to
unravel. The once bright-eyed lad was quickly replaced,
seemingly overnight, by a glowering, sinister, dead-eyed
shadow of his former self, given to erratic, highly
eccentric, reclusive, and sometimes violent behavior.
Inevitably sacked from the band, Barrett retreated from
London to his mother’s house in Cambridge, where he would
remain until his death, only rarely seen or heard, further
fueling the mystery.
In the meantime, Pink Floyd emerged from the underground to
become one of the biggest international rock bands of all
time, releasing multi-platinum albums, many that dealt
thematically with the loss of their friend Syd Barrett:
The Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You Were Here, and
The Wall are all, on many levels, about him.
In A Very Irregular Head, journalist Rob Chapman
lifts the veil of secrecy that has surrounded the legend of
Syd Barrett for nearly four decades, drawing on exclusive
access to family, friends, archives, journals, letters, and
artwork to create the definitive portrait of a brilliant
and tragic artist. Besides capturing all the promise of
Barrett’s youthful years, Chapman challenges the oft-held
notion that Barrett was a hopelessly lost recluse in his
later years, and creates a portrait of a true British
eccentric who is rightfully placed within a rich literary
lineage that stretches through Kenneth Graham, Hilaire
Belloc, Edward Lear, Lewis Carroll, John Lennon, David
Bowie, and on up to the pioneers of Britpop.
A tragic, affectionate, and compelling portrait of a
singular artist, A Very Irregular Head will stand as
the authoritative word on this very English genius for
years to come.