Often the legend which surrounds a pop-culture icon is far greater than the actual achievements of the individual. This cultural myth-making is readily apparent in the legend of ex-Pink Floyd frontman Syd Barrett, who died recently. Below is a news snippett I gleaned off the web:

"Syd Barrett, erstwhile original frontman of prog-rock behemoths Pink Floyd, died aged 60 last Friday at his hideaway in Cambridgeshire, The Guardian are reporting.

The iconic figure - who joined Pink Floyd in 1965 only to leave three years later - suffered from diabetes, and it is thought that complications relating to this condition finally put paid to what had often been a strange and tormented life.

Although he didn't perform as a part of Pink Floyd after his 1968 departure, and effectively contributed to only one album (The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn), Barrett - born Roger Keith Barrett - enjoyed limited solo success, and his former bandmates' 'Shine On You Crazy Diamond', a live favourite, was penned as an eulogy to him. "

Poor, mad reclusive Syd. Was it the toxic combination of fame & drugs that caused his fragile artist's mind to splinter? Perhaps Barrett was just another victim of the excesses of the late 60's.

Traditionally, humanity loves stories of fallen heroes. The brilliant rising star who overextends himself and ultimately plummets to the earth, Icarus-style. Frankly, these stories always seemed a bit smug to me.

Tonight, I commemorate Mr. Barrett in these bloggish pages. Oh sure, he only contributed to one-and-a-half Pink Floyd albums before he went completely la-la, but his story and legend are truly compelling. I did, in fact, own a vinyl copy of Barrett's solo double album 'The Madcap Laughs'. He was a crazy ol' fuck, but I dug him.


Here's wishing you a safety passage into the great beyond, Syd. Seething wet we meet in fleck.* Pass the bong, please.

*lyrics from Syd Barrett song "Rats"