Tales From The Green Fridge

taken from Escimo Chain

When 'Crazy Diamond' first came out in 1990, it was a biography that was long overdue. For despite all the years of myth making, it was the first book to discuss Barrett as a serious artist in his own right, rather than as a colourful interlude in the Floyd's tastefully understated career. Even better, it was obviously produced after a lengthy period of careful research, interviewing most, if not all, of the key players in the saga.

'Crazy Diamond' was also written from a refreshingly sympathetic point of view. Rather than taking the freak show approach, it described the story for what it is: a tragedy shot through with brilliant moments of insight and creativity.

What is perhaps most remarkable about it though, is that given a subject of such undeniable interest, it took over 7 years for Mike Watkinson and Pete Anderson to get it published. And even then, in only a truncated form.

Such a saga is an interesting story in its own right and I recently got in touch with Mike Watkinson to discuss some of the behind the scenes history of the book. So here, for the first time, is his account in full:

"In 1984, Peter Anderson and myself were reporters on the Herald Express in Torquay. One lunchtime, I vividly remember reading a bizarre item in the Sun's pop column about this former Pink Floyd star who was living in the attic of his mother's Cambridge home. One afternoon, while she was out shopping, he nipped downstairs and painted the fridge green before retreating back to the loft. It seemed such a bizarre tale - even for the Sun.

While Pete was a big fan of the Floyd of the mid-70's, I knew little of Barrett, although I vaguely remember him cited as an influence by a number of the punk bands I had followed a few years further back. Although I took the Sun's story with a very large dose of salt, I was intrigued by the thought that the once creative genius behind Pink Floyd was now living in such extraordinary circumstances. The music press at this time were still treating Syd as a bit of a joke: they printed Barrett yarns but showed little interest or inclination in exploring the reasons for his tragic withdrawal. I consulted rock reference books and even made a few enquiries, but no-one could supply answer to the question I was asking: Whatever happened to Syd Barrett ?

Having become gripped by the Barrett legend, I immediately got into his solo albums plus 'The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn'. I thought then (and do now) that much of what I was listening to was indeed the work of genius. Someone once said to me that on 'Piper', Syd had teetered on the fine line between genius and madness: by the time of his solo albums, he had slipped over the edge. An oversimplification of what happened, perhaps, but largely true. Syd's songwriting, guitar-playing and even his style of singing was very different and some of the material he produced in 1967 would even cause shockwaves today. It would still be remarkable if a song about a transvestite stealing women's underwear made the top 20.

In the early days of our research, I was haunted by the thought that someone might have saved Barrett from his ultimate fate. It emerged that various efforts were indeed made - but too little and too late. Hindsight, of course, is a wonderful thing and at the time Syd and his mates had no real idea of the dangers of the drugs they were experimenting with. It might even be argued that Syd could not have attained his breathtaking heights of creativity without LSD. For example, Ray Manzarek, of the Doors, felt that some people - like Jim Morrison - had to 'break on through to the other side'. The same may have been true of Barrett. Perhaps if he'd been a bricklayer, he may have got away with it. As it was, his burgeoning LSD intake coincided with the onset of stardom and its accompanying madness. Having no songwriting partner, he was forced to shoulder the burden - at a time when he was still barely out of his teens. The parallels with Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys are obvious. A gifted, artistic type like Barrett was always going to be vulnerable.

Obviously, the Barrett myth would not exist were it not for the paucity of his recorded work or if Syd had gone on to greater things while the Floyd had had no success themselves. The legend and the songs are inter-linked, although to some people Syd Barrett is more famous for semi-authenticated acts of lunacy than any of the work he put down on vinyl. One of the motivations for writing a Barrett biography was to illustrate the various aspects of his character and demonstrate that he was an important individual in his own right. I do not believe it was an exaggeration to state that when Barrett's career fizzled out, something unique and irreplaceable vanished from British pop.

For me, the most fascinating aspect of those fractured interviews Syd gave in the early 70's was the fact that - even at this stage - he was clearly aware of (and dryly amused by) his burgeoning legend. Yet there is no real evidence that he consciously helped to create and develop his own myth. His isolationist's stance was very different from, say, that of David Sylvian, who gained something of a reputation as a 'recluse' in the late 80's. Syd, of course, eventually went home to Cambridge, severed all ties with the music business and even reverted to his original name. Far from shaping a legend, he was clearly endeavouring to bury his past.

Nick Mason once said Syd's story possessed the James Dean syndrome. 'That thing about not fulfilling what appears to be your destiny.' Fans have just three albums plus a few bits and pieces to pore over and ponder what might have been. There is something peculiarly enchanting about Barrett's material, something which leaves people panting for more. Then there is the thought of what might have been. What success would a Barrett-dominated Floyd have achieved in the 70's ? Would Syd have struck out on his own anyway, perhaps becoming a sort of David Bowie figure ? Could he still get it together after all these years ? The story has endless appeal which is why it has stood the test of time.

'Crazy Diamond' is not a rock biography in the traditional sense and is not the kind of book to read if, for example, you want to know which instrument Syd played on track three on the second side of Floyd's debut album. It is actually an investigation into a legend and consequently we did not unearth any new recordings which fans had not come across previously. What we did discover, however, was the film footage purporting to show Syd's first acid trip in the hills of Gog Magog in 1965 which has recently been made available commercially. When we saw it (1985 ?) I found the footage amusing and compelling but also slightly disturbing. We never dreamt it would end up being sold in Virgin Megastore and, whatever the rights and wrongs of this enterprise, it does show the durability of the Barrett cult.

We began writing the book as far back as 1984 and most of it was written over the following four years. In 1988, having been rejected by every other British publisher, we were poised to sign a deal with Zomba, who got cold feet at the last minute. We were delighted when the Stone Roses took then to court soon afterwards. At that time, publishers were much more conservative than they are now. Time and again we were asked 'Syd who ?' followed by 'When did he last put a record out ?' It was terribly frustrating to learn that all these people wanted were biogs on Jason Donovan and Kylie. These days there are books on such marginal artists as Ned's Atomic Dustbin and The Wedding Present and perhaps the success of 'Crazy Diamond' might have persuaded other publishers to take the plunge.

Omnibus always seemed to be our best bet. Being a former rock journalist, editor-in-chief Chris Charlesworth was familiar with the Barrett legend and tried to convince his superiors that here was a gamble worth taking. At this point we were getting desperate - every week there was an item in the music press about Syd, yet Omnibus were still dragging their feet. We inundated Bob Wise, the managing director, with Barrett clippings in an attempt to make him change his mind. When he turned us down, we lost heart and the manuscript languished in my house for a couple of years - at one point even being used as a door-stop ! In 1990 we decided to publish the book ourselves. We had, after all, put an enormous amount of effort into a story which we strongly felt had to be told. When I contacted Omnibus in an attempt to scrounge some photos, Chris greeted me like a long lost son. Bob Wise had had a change of heart and Omnibus wanted to publish a Barrett biography after all. At last it was the breakthrough we had waited for.

There are presently no plans to increase the book to its original length. I had always thought that the original manuscript had amounted to 100,000 words, but it appears that it was closer to 70,000. The published book probably consists of around 50,000. Perhaps the passage of time has affected my memory. I'd hate to start another Barrett legend that Omnibus are sitting on the 'Crazy Diamond' original twice the length of the published version ! Much of the editing was justified and nothing of Syd was lost. We did, for example, cover the 'Swinging London' in considerable detail. However, this had already been covered more extensively (and more effectively) in the Miles book. There was very little censorship, although one or two occasions when we had to use our discretion."

Mike Watkinson