Wouldn't You Miss Me at All?

Today marks the 5 year anniversary of the death of Pink Floyd founding member Syd Barrett, the most famous acid casualty of the 60s and one of the guiding lights of psychedelic rock. Where so much of the era's freakout music was characterized by self-indulgent, free associated lyrics designed to sound more profound than they were, Barrett's took precisely the opposite approach: his view of the world was a childlike one, imbuing his songs with a unique balance of carefree euphoria and unease. His melodic sensibilities were also superb, and early Floyd singles like "Arnold Layne" are, ignoring their other virtues, simply great, effortless pieces of songwriting. Of course, he's most widely remembered even by many Floyd fans as the man who disappeared, shaved off all his hair, and lived the rest of his life in his mother's home, obese and cut off from the world he no longer trusted. His subsequent solo albums are fascinating, exhibiting in equal parts the musician he once was and the increasingly fragmented mind he'd become; they're frequently as great as they are troubling. His legacy mostly (and rightfully) leans on his band's towering debut album, The Piper at the Gates of Dawn. Ultimately, though, his greatest gift to the world, beginning as early as the 60s, may have been providing a much loved face to the then-taboo perils of mental health. The tragic way he spent the majority of his life - as well as songs like "Dark Globe" (below), a shattering chronicle of a fully conscious, reluctant descent into madness - continue to serve as a stark reminder of the patience and care we owe to all those in similar straits.

In Memoriam

1946-2006