Retrospective show of eleven minute anecdotes – Part 3

And at last the third part of nonsense tales from the old Roger’s cellar...


Under enemy control

That evening we gathered in my house. We took our psychic Alexander.
First we have smoked some joints, listened to some music and drank some Red Bull with vodka. When twilight has turned to night we sat down in a circle while Alexander started to enter the trance.
All of us have been inspired with music which just played. It was early Floyd. Someone, obviously it was me, has suggested to call spirit of Syd Barrett. Some people were in confusion as they didn’t know who he was. I have explained to them in short so that they could understand. Fortunately, Alexander knew who that Syd was.
His fingers nervously knocked on a floor and he told us that he sees Syd, but very far-away. Alexander wasn’t sure, that man who was called is dead. "It seems, that this person has not died, but is very sick ", said Alexander.
"Ask him, where is he?"
"He is so far", Alexander repeated again, "And it seems, he wants to return"
"Why he didn’t compose the songs in such long time?"
"He speaks, that he did, but nobody knew, that it were his songs"
"What songs?"
"It was music which sometimes playing on local radio. He has gifted few songs to one guy. And he doesn’t want call his name because of afraid that will break his life"
"Ask him, what he thinks about Pink Floyd", someone asked.
"He does not like them and their music especially “Dark Side of the Moon”. He said they’re spurious"
"Whether his solitary life has connected to their offence to him"
"No"
"What he did in last 35 years?"
"Waited for the end"
"What he thinks of his own music?"
"He considers its silly. He speaks, that he has something what he wants to share but cannot yet. He doesn’t see that person to whom he could give it."
"What is it?"
"He has left", said Alexander, "now I don’t see him at all, he spoke something about porcelain or something like that, I haven’t absolutely understood"
And then one from the guys asked him to call Jimi Hendrix's spirit and I have left a circle. They still discussed something and spoke for a long time, but it wasn’t completely interesting to me. I have opened a window, inhaled night air and have truthfully envied to Alexander.


See you at 101 Cromwell St.

I saw these cats around not so long ago. Maybe it was twenty or thirty years ago. They both were old and witty. I spoke with them about Syd.
Let’s drink a pint of milk. Let’s go in the nearby milky pub. Let’s go by feet.
Pink said that he knows why Syd left the band. It could be probably because of he was nutty.
But Floyd said the other things. He said that Syd was brainy as he is left his band. He escaped the tragic role of superstar, all that fame and money.
He lived alone in his house tried to remember his cats that he missed at 101 Cromwell St.


Back to the Mill

Yairn wis telt by grannie o ma youthie freend frae Glesga.
Wee-oors Soothron dancing baund Pink Floyd cam tae Glesga an gaed tae Green's Playhouse for playing thair ceilidh. Lads an queans cam tae pairty thare. The lang muisicker wit muckle guitar banin aw time insteid o rantin caller sangs an gat gardevines tae his bollocks. Drummer winkt aw time tae little queans an made wir lads verra radge.
Guy on pianae wis feart an dernt unner sicht.
Ae mirk an skyre guy wha awbody cried orra stuid in mids an poukt strings o his guitar. He ae wisn’t banin at oor lads even he gat bottles frae time tae time.
It seemt that one queer socht til keep him awa at dock o the club.
An syne he saunt frae stage.
Daes onybody ken her? Clatter says: she lifes in Glesga: fowerty years auld. Mebbe rubbage. Syd's dauter wis frae Sweden or something like that.
This wus auld spin telt by ma freend wha kent ae quean. Alas, she dee’d of a drogs mony time ago. She telt him she wis a 'groupie' cam frae Sweden efter Pink Floyd in saxties an she wis biggen.Faither like eneuch wis Syd Barrett. That's aw.
An dochter lifes in Glesga: she is ah gangrel artist. A thank ye aw, sae deeply sae sencerly.
A knaw less aboot her nor ma foregane freend... He see’d her somewey, she leuks like gangrel aw in duds, free artist.


Bask in the shadow of yesterday’s triumph

On Thursday, Jan 1, 1972 Syd was in Cambridge, did a gig in Union Society Cellars probably with Stars. In the end of January they did a gig in The Corn Exchange in Cambridge. In February there were four gigs - in the begining, in the middle and two in the end of February. Between these dates Syd was in London on Floyd's early perfomance of DSOTM in Rainbow Theatre. He changed his look, now he got the moustaches. In the begin of March Floyd by the rumours goes to Japan, probably taking Syd in a role of roadie. In that time Stars performed without Syd (because he was in Japan). In April Syd returned to England with Floyd and went apparently to in Abbey Road studios to make some mess records but he couldn't do anything and he goes to Cambridge. Floyd goes to States without Syd. Then in fall Syd performs with Steve Took, but where..? in London or in Cambridge..? In the end of 1972 Syd got a nervous breakdown in Hills Road house's cellar and went to hospital for a while... Syd lived in Cambridge up to summer of 1973 leaving sometimes for visiting London and another good places. He might be invited by Floyd to States in the spring. By the rumours he was there in exact that time. He spend two weeks in New York's cheap hotel while Floyd toured around US. In that time Syd Barrett worked as a gardener for a while. In the summer Syd's got good fees and went to London in the fashionable hotel to enjoy his life in London clubs. Again there were some attempts to get him in the studio but all unsuccessful. In the end of this year Syd moved to Chelsea Cloisters.


This could be a dream

I was in tears when I saw them together and kept in mind that Syd was alone.
No one fucking rock hero would raise my tears except him. I hate I hate Pink Floyd, these trembling voices these shaky hands with old fashioned guitars.
I also disgust of what Roger Waters said who think that he is one who responsible for the Floyd and always was and now after Syd and even because when he left the band practically because of sick.
Really nothing to add...

Retrospective show of eleven minute anecdotes – Part 2

Let's open the old diaries and stir them up in other direction...


A day in the garden with mad genius

Let me in... Let me in through these gates of this yard, in this hole and waiting for someone who standing behind the blue door.
No answer.
The man in the black coat silently gazed at me at the rear of the garden.
“Hello”, my broken English sounded awfully and I was confused a little bit.
The man disappeared in the bushes. I was confused little bit more.
In the course of a few minutes he reappeared, wiping his lips with the back of his hand and rumpling his plastic bag. He stood looking outside for some moments, and then I saw him walk in an oddly furtive manner towards the gates.
Nobody there, today I was alone, I hope.
“Hello, Mr. Barrett”, I said thinking how is better to call him, like this way I have said or just “Sir”.
“Hi”, he answered finally.
“Are you Mr. Barrett?” I asked.
“Yes, but if you are looking for Syd or something like that he is not living here. Okay?”
“Well, I am looking for you, Sir”, I said, O, God, I should say “…for you, Mr. Barrett”
The man after some hesitation, leant against of the gates, produced a small can tin, took the plastic lighter and prepared to smoke. His fingers trembled while doing so.
...
4:00 p.m.
...
“What do you want to know?” he asked calmly with warm in his voice and smiled.
“Everything”, wordless at moment I quite lost in astonishment.
“You know, there are lots of people who came here to know everything, but you have already know everything since you came here. Nothing to add. Nothing at all.”
“But what happened in the last years, what happened actually then?”
“Nothing happened”, old Syd has grinned quite same he was on his old pictures.
“Did you write new songs?”
“Yes, a little… I spent more time for painting, you see”, he just felt to thinking for a while, “You see these roses and leafage around? I still wonder how they are helping to live here, so many years… So many fucking years they thought I was mad, and that was actually my idea. It is better to be mad hiding in nowhere and being nobody. They’re used to call me “crazy diamond” but I don’t like it really, so foolish. No sense to use these symbols then, what “crazy diamond” am I? Look at me. When I was younger I thought the music can join with painting and then with colours, with tastes and everything that I felt. But I am losing. Now I didn’t felt sounds or colours, I have lost that gift.
What about Pink Floyd… I listened them several times, they became bigger, and what I remember from sixties we didn’t agree to make such machine for making only money, this was nonsense for sixties, you know. And I was honest, the only…
Music? I don’t think its music or art. Just a pop muzak, nothing else. I don’t remember who said first we should record Emily on there? Was that me?
No, no. I was a big fan of glam era, really. I bought tons of albums living in London. This exciting vivacious pulsating music it is so helpful when you’re smoking a dope and something more.
Acid? No more acid again. Above and beyond I misplaced it. You can’t buy good acid now. You feel like dirt in your mouth. When they started to use the blots I have denied it ultimately. No more good acid again.
Women? No comments… Had them a lot but was only one you’ll never know who she was…
Roger Waters? Who is it? Never heard about it before…
...
5:00 p.m.
...
5:30 p.m.
...
“My wonderful roses, I love them all. Do you believe that I have a little bird living under the roof. Little bird coming every night to sing a song for me before a sleep...”
...
6:00 p.m.
...
6:22 p.m.
...
“Once upon a time a red tail squirrel was my important guest. Very important, you know...”
...
We spent more hours when evening came. I felt it would be imprudence to leave so precious him alone. But he required.
Some piece of paper wind rolled on the ground...
...
I have gone for the next day to come again.


Lost seventies? No, stolen ideas...

Our special reporter went down to the mysterious cellar of Syd Barrett’s house where he found irrefutable proofs that Syd was hided from public after late sixties.
Recently a discovered proof that Syd Barrett was hided from public after late sixties accuses someone who used his ideas in the seventies. Being on the dark side of the Moon and behind the Wall all that time, Syd Barrett made a secret interview in 1973. He shared with his bizarre ideas such as autobiographical movie and massive book about worldwide history of art. As well, he mentioned six channels audio system for realistic sound recordings with positioning the source of the sounds. He described a simple sampler that he made in his own cellar and that could control by computer. He even ordered a small computer system from the States after his meeting with Steve Jobs on the Technical Exhibition. His cellar filled full of synthesizers, guitars and other musical equipment. There are lots of sensational pictures that someone did as if for magazines but he cheated him all that time. Feeding him LSD and saying to publicity that he is Crazy Diamond. No, Syd was a sanest than anyone who dealt with showbiz. He was as Brian Wilson in his agenda but cooler and truthfully. He invented punk, rave parties on his travels to India and Ibiza. Once he noticed in his interview: “Only small sucker prier bothered me all that time. He looked at through the fence from the period of working on “The Wall” up to “Division Bell”. Twice I’ve tried to shoot him from my hand-gun but him still alive and laughing at me.


From the sixth page (Sid sings Syd)

I am just starting to publish excerpts from my new book about Syd Barrett’s life. I've already start a new topic on The Astral Pipers forum with news about brand new eleven pages from the Syd's past. Earlier I described one significant night on the cemetery on Ibiza in 1967 where demons tried to steal Syd's soul.
I hope someone will help me with English grammar and sentence structure as my poor English. I hope I will build here this book with your give a hand. Anyway, I am looking forward to your help and interest. I will just get into this story from the sixth page with these strange remembrances of some person who saw Sid Vicious in Dallas around 1978.
There was an empty bar with some stoned longhaired Americans sitting around. Sid walked out onto the empty stage with few romping musicians on the background. He stood alone and looked exhausted. The nonsense band played some chaotic knocking-off punk tunes and then he explained to the missing crowd that he has something special. To a certain extent mystified twitching his bass he sung the song I did not identify from the beginning but later realized what this was. Goddamnit it was Lucifer Sam from good old times. Oh well, the best thing on this week I saw. Sometimes Sid forgot the words and just scratched his bass. After one or two verses, he stopped and mumbling something about Syd Barrett, that he maybe was his friend and this maybe was too far from here. After twenty minutes, Sid vanished from the scene left me in total confusion until these days.

Retrospective show of eleven minute anecdotes – Part 1

I have moved to Spain mainly for finding that cemetery and I have found there a plate on which the following has been scratched: “You’ll find it, read. I don’t live anymore
in the body. What for me is to come back? I would stay here.”


Should be there silent alone inside the noisy crowd?

“On Thursday, we finally came off. Just away from Sound Techniques Studio. I’ve even took some tapes with me because they all well sorted were in my hands. I sorted them on shelves. Of course, it should be a new hit, some noisy guitar stuff, three and thirty cuts for each week.
This was a mystery trip. Nobody should know how we could come off. Rog and Rick go by boat, with Julie we go by two special aircrafts lone. Nick did not come since he stood everyday with car. There were also some dudes with dopes I do not remember them all as took some acid that morning. I started my emerald diary.
We landed on one of the sunny islands somewhere in Spain. Sam and Rog met us. Afternoon we should go swim right now. I thought I was a kid. Even I was a kid. Blackhill sent us a post that we‘ll supposed to take another break on Hawaii that fall. I hope I‘ll invented to go to Vegas that autumn.
On Sunday some stoned dude gave to all of us, the yellow MELODY MAKER with the black lettered header PINK FLOYD FLAKE OUT for read it aloud. What they know about Pink and Floyd and all these tunes?
There weren’t radios. Nobody tell us the news. I trust PIPER POPPER should go top.
On the next day, I didn’t want to listen to and smoke of Sergeant Pepper for fortieth time and said to everybody that I have to discover adjoining area and be some point alone.
I like some Spanish guy playing guitar so swiftly I can’t remember accords and fingers, I stood awestruck behind him and gave him five pounds and some dope. He was so small five or six years old or even younger. Yeah, fantastic.
I never saw an emerald grass. Usually it has a yellowish greenie grassy colour. However, behind this old mill it was emerald like the deep in sea. I never saw. It was not an acid. It was real. As well as this mill was with no one door and window. This was so surrealistic night long before those three nights of the violet sky.
Sam Hurt with his baby son sitting and smoked grass all this time. I do not think he knows he is in Spain. All this time he was so comic. Tho living in own his house nearby. All this dudes and children lived in his house. And I did.”


Excerpt from the forth page of eleven-pages, the chapter one

This story one-by-one was confirmed by my old good friend who said that he chatted one day on with nursery who sat with Barrett in Fulbourn Hospital in those days.
“I do not remember how I came out this rot soaked room. I am alone. What I see is open door I just have to go out. I did. I left the hospital and Cambridge. All I need is to be a new artist. So I have to go back in London. The world will know about new great artist soon. But door is locked and thus my life is locked. It is frightful.
What somebody fears more? Scary tales before sleep or rustling ghosts in the basement? Somebody fears to go insane. On the other hand, be near to somebody who insane. It is a scariest thing in the whole world. You are afraid because you do not understand. What will be soon? Maybe you also can go insane. There are could no jokes with mental. This is risky.
I have just remembered I watched for one man who lived by neighbourhood; the schoolteacher and he become mad one day. He came successful one with family and children. Later his family left him and went back to London. He was lost alone with pupils after school. Nobody knows what he did. Rumours were he was an exhibitionist and probably he demonstrated his dick to them. Nobody knows. However, from time to time he changed his look, his clothes, was fire from the school and spent all his holydays in mental hospital. After that, he was throwing out from the window.
I can’t jump from this window. Lattice.
Next day I asked nice nursery to shift me into another room. Refusal.
Next week I was sitting here in lunchtime and began to tremble with weakness. Green sky was above me. Chris and Joker gave me an acid again. They can go through the walls. But I can’t.
I saw at least twenty three nurseries at one time around me. I just told them I am not ill. Nothing troubles me, but they all were deaf. I have to cry it loud. Lattice.
They gave me a light up. This small cigarette melted with months. How much time I am here? Maybe ten years or twelve. Yesterday they gave me back my diary. The only thing I wrote I the size of window. How many feet? This is not paper. This is bowels. It’s so hard to write on bowels.
On the next mouth, I hardly ate something sour. I was so much get tired from my new book about art history. These right few words destroy a whole week. On the television, somebody believed he likes pigs. All this time is pigs he said. Dirty swine pigs. All around and music. He said much of music. Queers vote’s punk. What does it mean? Lattice or the next door.”


The biopic movie

Shall we wait for a three or fourteen years to get a superior movie about the crackled branches? Good ever-young American guy Johnny Depp was going to dig up it. Maybe such driveller as Ashton Kutcher will portray Roger Waters. We will roar with laughter at him finally.
One person who once previously performed Syd on wide screen was Sir Bob Geldof and he did it with a lot of precision. On one occasion, we talked about that deal after all with him in 1982 on excellent glow exhibition.
Closely a year before Mister Johhny Depp made much of the rustle said that a movie based on the story of Syd, would be a great idea. Great idea or nothing. There are no good ideas to listen on crackled branches in the dark wood. Can you imagine a movie with three hours of empty screen and some person in far place trying to get up, walk up, and buy up something edible in the near store?
“No more rumours. I will never walk on the television again. Actually, Johnny Depp will well once more to act Freddie Mercury as well as this allure life and not this gray our fatality.”
This bald-headed person in short tee bought Le Monde. He never speak fluently French but still remembers from his past life when spoke with Dave accurate as he did. And later on that glow excellent exhibition.
Johhny Depp never told to French Newspaper he likes the roles with depth. And that Syd had depth. Most of them cannot tell between Keith Richard and Syd Barrett at all. Most of them playing guitar as Johnny Cash and singing this loony tunes.
Exactly a year before they played again on the night show broadcast. I will never forget this old geezer singing with his raspy voice the song I heard so many years before in car across the road. Wish him was there.
At last, few American guys wants to get a buy and sell biography of broken being who went insane in lovely wood just as he wants and particularly for himself.
Another guy wanted to get an interview. He had switched on his Dictaphone and recorded a half an hour of silence. Excellent blankly glowing silence. All about what this bald man think if Johny Depp will actually act Syd on the wide screen.
Moreover, after year the complete article will end. Therefore, we possibly will not pass the time for a three or four years more.

Being caught with Guiness at the Mill

“I have to live near flowers,” Roger says to old gentleman over a beer, a Guiness stout. “I can’t exist without flowers and birds.”


However at the Mill Irish Stout is tastier than Guiness. Even say more, the Granta is a much better bet, but at least the Mill sells you beer in plastic glasses for the green.
Young guys sat down nearby.
By coincidence, one of these guys sees his face in the magazine and calls his name at the bar, wanting to know if he would play tunes. Assholes.
Debora, little girl from Sydney, wants to know how long he has been losing his eyesight and how long he has had missing teeth. When he tell her, she puts her hand, that soft white hand, on his arm and tells him how much she admires him for making all those sacrifices for a worthy cause...

Scarily obsessive mumbo-jumbo bollocks

In 1974 roses were selling at 30p per stem and the grass was yellow in the end of summer. And the grass was beautiful for smoking it alone.


It was on the cold August Monday morning, this first arrival in the studio. The lanky unshaven guy got off the blue bus behind a porch on Abbey Rd with two guitars under his arms. There were two other guys dragging a huge box filled by multicoloured wires. The unshaven guy loudly yawned and stretched. Eventually he has put his guitars near a porch and went back to the blue bus. After a while the hirsute nerd has run out from the studio and took this sleepy unshaven guy from the bus with him inside the studio.


The same thing went on three or four days on end. Unshaven guy (whose name was Syd or possibly Roger), left studio from time to time, smoked nearby, sat on rungs and then went back home. In the studio Syd behaved silently, long thumbed through his many shabby scrappy notebooks, wiped strings of his guitars with rag and bet the drums for hours.


Once, it seems it was on the second day, Syd has brought some Persian pillows with him and spread out them on a floor. All of them were multicoloured and very cheerful. Syd told to everybody that if to arrange them in a definite order the surprising melody would be produce which he couldn’t remember anyway. But that day he couldn’t arrange them in the correct order; the melody hasn’t been recorded.


Peter (this is that nerd which so much fussed around Syd) attentively listened to that he told and tried to record practically everything that he did.


Last day when Syd left to smoke outside, the thick guy who has learnt him on the street has approached him and spoke a long about somewhat, then convinced him to descend somewhere. After that Syd has returned to studio, removed strings from one of his guitars, put them in his pocket, left outside and never got back any more.

Syd, save me

It is the side project of “Perplexed Infinity”. I would entitle this “outtakes”. During the time when I repaired the original recording, i.e. in 2006, I’ve composed pair of tracks, one of which gonna be a coda on that album. But all of them have been rejected by me and have started to live the independent life.


Moreover, I regularly transformed them up to autumn 2007 when I've demonstrated “Perplexed Infinity” to public opinion for the first time. Before that I’ve composed another pair of tracks which together have combined into this EP. This record heavily contains Syd’s and Floyd’s samples without any permission but I still don’t think I would get any bread of it. So take it as it is and as you like.


1. Syd, save me 1 (6.1 Mb)
2. Syd, save me 2 (5.4 Mb)
3. Syd, save me 3 (4.6 Mb)
4. Syd, save me 4 (2.8 Mb)
5. Syd, save me 5 (3.0 Mb)

Download and listen to this at your own risk. These “outtakes” less noisy, more meditative and little bit sad because all they were made after Syd's death. The title for the EP was inspired by Roger Waters' early song “Julia Dream” and doesn't refer to personal.

Why wear tie Yogi Bear?

Why wear a tie around the neck? I don't know. I have always found it necessary. But not him. Look.


He might wear more expensive necktie. I am sure he knows how to put it on properly and takes the necessary time to adjust it and make it look perfect. But not this time.

Perplexed Infinity - Lyrics

This is a short review of Roger ‘Syd’ Barret's twenty-five years life in non-existence in his own house in Cambridge, UK in 1981-2006. Each phase of this period interrelated to each track in the album in the same chronological order.


1. Slow train is homing (July, 1981)

It was on Tuesday and the night train from King's Cross rolled to Cambridge through the raw white fog. Lone and old bearded man in dark brown coat preferred to sit alone. All the way through the trip, he looked out from the window to see the lands he never discovered. He preferred to sit alone but he didn’t manage to this.
The rest of the way he travelled with the man sitting diagonally to him who tried to read newspapers. Eventually he has informed that no new news he has found there. He sat calmly. Periodically he pulled his baseball cap on eyes and slumbered He said he had been suffering from weird and wonderful disease fifty miles before. A doctor is called to examine him in his hotel room in London. Few gapers also took some part in the examination. They all take particular interest in the sore on his belly.
He introduced himself as Roger. It was really nice to meet him. Roger Barrett, a pop-artist. He said: “Never to return. Not a long distance.” He said he was thinking that it was time he drove over to see his own new house.
Two blonde girls stared at him few moments and then disappeared in the crimson haze.
Seemed there was only one other train from London that night and the chances were it would be completely disappeared into the fog. Slow train is homing so long time at the boundless Cambridge platform. The man who sat diagonally said that it was just big serotonin fluids. He said also he was going to be a doctor one day and knows all that very well. By the way he never interested in the excited views outside the window. No such interest in the lands he never discovered.
With trembling hands he had threw newspapers into the big aged bag and had gone outside the hissing coach. He knew he moved towards the spanking new ages.

2. Sweet of you to come (August, 1981)

He was rich and distinguished. Things are going really well.
Little girl was so filled with big surprise when she gazed at the baseball cap.
Hope all is well in sweet home. Anyhow, he stayed behind, and lived for quite awhile the last of his connection in the county.
He gazed at the floor. He needed a time to rethink his life again. Life could be wonderful.
He went to the dining-room with a sullen face. At table his mom made some mention, but he gave her such a short and angry answer that she abstained from further speech.
The son also did not lift his eyes from his plate, and was silent all the time. They finished their dinner in silence, rose from the table and separated, without a word. After dinner Roger went to his room, took the ticket and the change out of his pocket, and threw the money on the table. After a while he took out some cigarette papers, rolled one up, stuffed it with some grass, and began to smoke.
He sat down to work, and began to study an ornamental art out of a big green book. He spent nearly two hours over his book and writing without understanding of what he saw before him.
After that he took off his baseball cap and uncovered his bald spot.

3. Draw the mouse grave in the garden (March, 1985)

He said: “Never to return. Not a long distance.”
Roger had spent several days in bed, but he emerged that morning with a long foolscap paper in his hand and a twinkle of enjoyment in his sober green eyes. He got up.
He began to draw the smudge. The smudge was in the beautiful garden. The girl glanced at him, but made no sign. Then Roger began to draw something else, hiding it with his left hand. For a time the girl refused to notice; but her curiosity shortly began to manifest itself. He worked on, apparently lifeless. The girl made a sort of vague attempt to see, but Roger did not betray that he was aware of it. At last she gave in and hesitatingly whispered: "Let me see it"
A special secret in the garden is what custodian called the “mouse grave”. Roger partly uncovered a dismal skit of mouse grave looked like two modest pinnacles carpeted with flowers innumerable, shaded by noble trees joyful with the notes of a multitude of singing birds.
Besides the singing birds mentioned above, the ugly sparrow may be found in the deep bushes.
The picture was framed and placed at the backyard.

4. Daylight bothering (January, 1988)

Who's that knocking at the door? Our boys and girls didn't bother to go out to see old Syd. The teens knock at 10 homes per day. Brave girl mentioned that they didn't mean to bother anyone; they're just trying to help aged neighbours across the city.
Stefan, a journalist, has lived in Cambridge since sixties. Well, Stefan that one who was knocking at our door, to be absolutely precise, twice per week.
Someone shouted Pink someone shouted Floyd. Brave man shot down them all from his hand gun from second try. Police and manacles, questioning and jail.
Roger calmly looked at this through his window. Though he is a very private person by nature, he is not a recluse. “But why, Syd? Oh, sorry, Roger.” - “It's very quiet and I like that - I'm a bit of a recluse at heart. That’s all. Why not? What if I all at once would go off there for daylight bothering?”

5. Improve the flowering shrub (November, 1990)

Roger told to bat to piss off and let him get some sleep, but she persisted until he finally gave in. "Okay, follow me" he said and flapped out of the room with bat behind him. Down through a valley they went, across a river and into a garden of their house. "Now, do you see that giant shrub over there?" he asked. “We’ll improve it to unrecognizability”
Many other gardeners prune shrubs to remove old or dead branches, to improve the shape of the shrub, to rejuvenate old growth or even to encourage flowering. Pruning may improve health and vigour and is generally carried out in mid to late spring, with flowering shrubs pruned after flowering.
But Roger did that all in some inversely way. He needed to demonstrate that he also may do sculptures.
Roger utilized ten branches or twenty from a shrub. The gauge on scissors is set for paper or fabric, not for flower stems, but he knew he could do it better. Largest scissors is preferred for close-cut precision. Scissors was naughty and has jumped out from his hands. Roger made a sculpture from a shrub likewise a big plum growing underground. Roots to branches, branches to roots, all mixed up.
When quiet winter came our heartfelt Roger was so far from reality…

6. Said he buried her in the pictures of shapes (September, 1991)

What a funny joke, his mom has died.
He lived a seconds before in his shapes on his pictures but should he go outside and see?
He remembered the days when sky was bluer. And then he remembered the days when his mom called him sweetly for breakfast and allowed him to spend time in the dark cellar with his friends. Cherries on inflatable plate and books, books, pictures, plastic pillows are going now to hell. Everything he knew before. The sky that turned to black now is pressing at him stronger than earlier. He wanted to die again and now. Sweet, sweet home please leave him alone.
He never returned to past. He never remembered all he forgot. But now how could he leave it outside? Back to London? Back to glory years? Certainly not.
Lone and old bearded man in dark brown coat preferred to sit alone.
Roger couldn’t see through tears. He said to someone who was near he wants to be blind as he is now.
Not a long distance. Touch and throw it away. Everything he created before will burn in bonfire who never seen. Touch and throw everything. Just give a hand.
He came over and silently looked at her. Like small black roses.
They buried her and held a small family ceremony. Roger came back at Christmas and left about half of the clothes and stuff he had taken. He said he wants to start a new life.
If someone told you that he was cured completely please do not believe him, he is lying.
There was only a half-way before she passed away and now at this point it is a finish that closed down to the harsh acid glut.

7. Get rid of that sack and everything else (December, 1991)

Going upstairs and downstairs, get rid of that sack and everything else, which lost in his rooms. Papers and drawings should be copied shortly and better. At present it should be certainly burnt. Then it will come for print but now it is for bonfire. Going upstairs, trying to find all his diaries since his rock’n’roll years. Transparent rounds with tapes and songs that will nobody listen are going to hell. Black rounds of his voicing stuff are going to hell. Electronic toys straight from Japan are also going to hell. Going downstairs and catching cats and rats for the big holy bonfire in the beautiful garden. Mix everything else together well; add petrol if it is dry, or dry material if it is soggy. One thousand four hundred sixty eight pictures in family album are also going to hell. Look at this, little black hardback with his poetry. Look at this, missed episode from Doctor Who. Look here, missed tapes from Abbey Road. He need to get rid of that piece of junk and buy a car or bicycle as a minimum, they can finance it for him. They would just take it out of his paycheck.

8. Troubles with TV tuning (October, 1994)

This manual was recommended as training material for TV-tuning skill.
Click-click, click-click. Cluck-click, clack-cluck, clack-click.
Cluck-click, clack-cluck, clack-click. Click-click, click-click.
Click-click, click-click. Cluck-click, clack-cluck, clack-click.
Cluck-click, clack-cluck, clack-click. Click-click, click-click.
It seems that the TV is having trouble finding the sub-channels.
TV and videotape recorder all in good condition (Cambridge, price: £40, call Roger, tel.: 6523…). Wake up in the night and watching TV till dawn. They are calling him into bright crystal house.

9. Do yourself a marvellous stool (May, 1998)

He found it hard to get to sleep, that night. He reproached himself. There were the long shelves of books with empty pages. “The history of art”, the big work is going so slowly. He even thought that his medical bulletin filled faster than his own book.
What also kept him awake was a rhythmic sound coming from the house next door, where a holiday dance was in progress. Music was so recognizable. There were tunes he probably heard earlier in his youth.
He finally got up and looked out through the window into deep night. Stray cat was in search of places he never discovered.
He got a saw and sawn off the legs of the table. The table has been sawn half-and-half. From this the marvellous stool was built.
The case has turned into a superb bedside-table under the globe. The amazing lamp has been made of the rests of three legs. Probably it was necessary to attach the hinge to each detail.
First it should be disassemble. Screws laid separately, nails laid separately, shavings laid separately. Basically it’s possible to build the airplane from all these details.
But music still sounded from the house next door. Whether or not, it sounded in his head. God… Whether it’s possible, Emily?
What they’re the silly people! Where did they get such lumber?
And as a result the cabinet on six legs, to be exact and honest has been constructed.

10. One-stop shopping (August, 2001)

Roger liked the motion, and was just beginning to wonder whether he would develop wings. All day and all night shopping was his new spend.
One-stop convenience stores sell a variety of basic food and grocery items as well as newspapers, magazines, household products, toiletries, greeting cards. In such shops Roger got a question. What if he has broken some glass? Should he pay for this?
He used to be heard frequently in his back garden, below his window, a serenading boy, David. He took him once for shopping. David suggested buying him a bike but Roger denied.
Next time he appeared in Ely at Cloisters Antiques, opposite the Lamb Hotel, where he bought antique blotter. He lost it in nearby supermarket. Someone said that David found it and became rich and now living in Los Angeles in own house.
And the next time it was The Lighthouse Bookshop where he found 1950s-packaged Tiddly Winks. Times went by.

11. Cycling around (February, 2004)

Please sir jot down a book about your life. We want to know whatever happened to you after kick out from London. Why did you escape?
Now on Wednesday Roger has a gap from 8 am until 4 pm between shopping and interviews for press. So he went riding around the city and popped into a few shops. After that he wanted to explore parts of Cambridge that he hasn't seen before. Going faster, faster, faster...
Roger was a well-known figure, cycling in Cambridge and along the country.
Cambridge is an ideal city for cycling. Narrow roads and pavements, designated cycle paths, cycle lanes and traffic lights for cyclists. Going faster, slowly, faster...
This day Roger has reached for Grantchester. He turned right onto the road down to the Blue Ball pub. He rode on High Street until to the Red Lion pub. And then he lost his way. Shortly he rushed out near the Byron's Pool when his front basket dropped down. Twenty miles he cycled through hills and woods. Chain case has broken after last two miles immediately he appeared at rails. Going slowly, slowly, slowly...
A long train moved from one point to another through his sssswway… No, this part doesn’t look completed. Reminiscent of everything he did.
He thought this will never finish.

12. Missed Episode (July, 2006)

Follow place in h been under t soap, entered into h at the counter the old man types his purchases into the fifty-year-old push button machine and slumped and he is looking h gaze the led her trough a main gallery, upper c a flight of stairs come started after him. Suddenly Roger shiuted, moving in behind h cloth him wood. The fire was the colour of gal writhed out of blackened ground and ted paper on the counter to the tax. Roger realized that nd pulled them quickly back, feeling a sharp the corridors and I d on humped. Around fugitively, like he is smoking his first ciggy. Taking a large breath and pulling back his shoulders played Roger pursed his lips and w blinding. She bit her lip to bleed and scrambled to rid herself of t stone she? All noel de her and magi at sending bits of heat into its orange core they caught on t e. Painting flames twist her he scalding. She focused on the nearest target the clothes in her hands. They fla mself between Roger and thrown. Return to main ennui fiery page where life starts to roll by.

Perplexed Infinity - Music

It seems I forgot to put references to music files for downloading them. Here they are in mp3:


1. Slow Train Is Homing (7.0 Mb)
2. Sweet Of You To Come (6.4 Mb)
3. Draw The Mouse Grave In The Garden (1.4 Mb)
4. Daylight Bothering (2.0 Mb)
5. Improve The Flowering Shrub (2.9 Mb)
6. Said He Buried Her In The Pictures Of Shapes (4.3 Mb)
7. Get Rid Of That Sack And Everything Else (4.3 Mb)
8. Troubles With TV Tuning (1.8 Mb)
9. Do Yourself A Marvellous Stool (3.3 Mb)
10. One-Stop Shopping (4.2 Mb)
11. Cycling Around (Edit) (10.0 Mb)
12. Missed Episode (5.7 Mb)

'Perplexed Infinity' (2005-2006), the musical album of twelve tracks, should be file under 'vanguard' or 'psychedelic', inspired by and dedicated to Roger Keith 'Syd' Barrett (1946-2006) the genius and only founder of the Pink Floyd.

Perplexed Infinity - Words

In September, 2007 I have introduced to public my own two years old work related to Roger Keith ‘Syd’ Barrett’s twenty five years of hush-hush life in nearly non-existence from 1981 to 2006 in his own house in Cambridge, UK. Nobody knew what he did there in this time. But everyone guessed.


So, I am who never was there in this point in time and never saw Roger ‘Syd’ in his own authenticity decided to imagine. Even sometimes I apparently guessed...
Before I decided to do anything related to Roger ‘Syd’, I already worked on some fragmentary audiovisual project about head surgical treatment. This was named weirdly as “Grey Cell Surgery” with the following translation for slow-witted as “Brains Surgery” and was fairly dedicated to Vegetable Man. It contained eight tracks of noisy-wacky sounds and several attempts of musique concrète.
In August, 2005 after some turns of events connected to Roger ‘Syd’ (like famous Johnny Depp’s gossip about Syd’s biopic, Live 8 tears etc.) I unexpectedly got an idea of the conceptual visual or audio illustration dedicated to his invisible life in non-existence that was mentioned above. The opening and ending parts of conception should be a travel from one point in unreal world (for him, but obviously real for us, because we so desired to get Syd back) to another. The middle part should be his real world through his eyes which apparently seems unreal to us. This is not a simple chronicles of ordinary life in intolerable pain how it may looks. It’s probably a confession of the onlooker who is standing apart in perplexity because of feeling guilty.
In that time I didn’t even imagine how this travel will finish almost in one year, in July, 2006. If I knew that I would not even begin anything to do. Certainly it was a big confusion for me to represent the entire piece for public eye. I hesitated.
After a long delay, for what I have already apologized, I have introduced all that I promised, exclusively for the Late Night Syd Barrett Discussion Room. There were twelve tracks, eleven from 2005 and additional twelfth from 2006, after death of Roger ‘Syd’, a coda that enclosed some samples from radio news spots. I finished this with this small coda in the end because that was faithfully dedicated to Syd Barrett, and palpably not to Roger ‘Syd’. And I liked an idea.
I guessed that the musical piece will not take a big attention of public masses so I put some warnings about listening to it before. First note was like this...

“...Due to the extremely hard content of the musical piece it will better take it with some dope and clear mind. And if it will possible it is really better listen to this in the correct order...”

And second note was like that...

“...Nearly all material prepared in big haste and there were many moments which will be perceived very difficultly on hearing such as clipping, noising and etc. In 2006 there was an attempt to restore this record on more perfect equipment, but it hasn’t brought any significant results. Therefore I would recommend listening to this in distant places inaccessible for patients, elderly and children or simply through the headphones. The Hi-Fi kit also should be used with some care by reason of probability of unexpected damaging...”

As a result approximately one hundred folks downloaded it in for approximately two months. After learn of statistics I decided to show to public my doubtful works nevermore. And of what I pleasured much that I’ve got this. Late Night's true habitué and real die hard Syd Barrett's fan Felix Atagong wrote in his very kind review on “Perplexed Infinity”:

“...Stanislav’s soundscapes remind me of the German minimalistic movement of the Seventies without being boring nor too repetitive. Another comparison could lie in the ambient house of the Eighties: Space (very early incarnation of The Orb and KLF), Future Sound Of London, etc... house without the BPM... There is an interesting ambient Kraut movement going on even now: check the Kompakt record label for that.
I love the (deliberate?) Pink Floyd influences: the Echoes submarine pings for instance in “Sweet Of You To Come...” and musique concrète thingies: trains, birds... there are some things to discover here and there (even a bell that rings and other things to make it look good).
About Stanislav’s assumption that this is difficult music and a burden for the ears - this is, in my not so humble opinion, not quite true. There is a ‘natural’ flow and evolution in your tunes and I don’t think it is difficult to digest... as a matter of fact (and this is a small point of hmmm... criticism) it could’ve been a bit more adventurous, provocative and recalcitrant at some points...
Personally I would’ve liked some more beat and less drones here and there (I simply can’t resist some beat) and (but there is my Orb fascination again) some well chosen Floydian or Barretesque samples (as in the final track “Missed Episode” that, I can assure you, will get a fixed place on my iPod - if there is one track that is a bit too short it is the final one).
I can come only to one conclusion, your music is modern but as opposed to post-modern. So perhaps one should call it post-postmodern. Maybe I'm just babbling nonsense here.
Give it a try... Listen without prejudice.”

Oh, thank you, Felix! I really read it just about twenty five times! ...Ironically all we know that the most interesting time in Syd’s life was around 1967 and this year was avowed as “wonderful year”, the only one year. Then there was time of deliberation, the whole four years up to 1972 when he was wishy-washy between to be or not to be. Then there was nine years of total insanity, the life in another dimension or say right, on another planet, but really fantastic, this is my personal favourite, and unfortunately this is the foggiest time in his life. And then these twenty five years of pain, these dark ages, my personal despise.
This is what we have. There were one or two years of gold; four years of silver; nine years of bronze (my shiny bronze) and twenty five years of dust. Mathematically this could look like a geometrical progression. Ask me then, of what the human life consists? In every life there are a lot of rises and fallings but the personal hour of triumph actually lasts only seconds. I think we all had or will have this hour in our lives, someone has it stronger for public someone not much, but personally they are all identical for everyone. When you do your own D.I.Y. and then get perfect stool, maybe with some different length legs but you also trying to feel this hour, now and here. This is maybe what Roger ‘Syd’ felt everyday living and trying to catch another hour of triumph. Or maybe trying to raze it at last...
After all, for myself, personally, this is the first serious own skilful dedication to Roger Keith ‘Syd’ Barrett in my life and I definitely believe that is not final.

Comics! Bubbles!

I've got an idea to make comics about Syd and his life. It should be probably funny probably sad but always glittering one. For me, personally, it's the only way back to sixties when or where I never was.


I took some library silhouettes and produced four main heroes. Syd who is a lead hero looks not as good as others so I had to do probably a more hard work on his face.