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Introduction
Scarcely a year goes by
than the rock press, rather like the Times and the first cuckoo of spring,
report a ‘sighting’ of Syd Barrett, usually in Cambridge or in London. Whether these reports are accurate is uncertain, but ever since the early
seventies the myth surrounding the man seems to have mushroomed. There is
a growing army of admirers who would see him as some sort of living
legend, even though his total recorded output consists of little more than
three albums. Legend or otherwise, I was able, in a modest way, to be
able to assist Syd in recording some of his best-remembered solo
recordings (I produced the first ‘Madcap Laughs’ sessions amounting to
half of the album). With the exception of the excellent ‘Terrapin’
publications there has been remarkably little written about Syd, so this
is my attempt to remedy this in some small way. This publication is a
straight, factual account of the making of the album, ‘the Madcap
Laughs’. As I kept all my studio production notes and files what follows
is an accurate account of events in those few months of 1969.
I had joined E.M.I.
Records from Manchester University as a management trainee, although my
main passion in life was music. Raised on rock & roll (I was 23 at the
time, just a little older,
I think, than Syd), I played in amateur groups in my native Southport, and
even played on the stage of the Cavern Club (an unpaid, failed, audition
in case you want to know!). After a month on the E.M.I. training course,
I was, in late 1967, offered the responsibility of acquiring finished
recordings from outside,
independent producers. This included talents such as Mickie Most and
Denny Cordell, who had just signed Procol Harum and the Move to E.M.I.,
and I naturally accepted. My first signing was ‘River
To Another Day’ by Dave Edmunds’ Love Sculpture. Deep Purple, Barclay
James Harvest and Tyrannosaurus Rex soon followed.
This was the time when the British ‘underground’ movement was
flourishing, and E.M.I.’s corporate image could make acquiring masters
difficult in face of the competition from progressive companies such as
Island Records. In view of this I campaigned within E.M.I. for the
establishment of a label with a more contemporary image than Parlophone
and Columbia. I eventually had my way, and was given the task of
establishing and
running the new label, which I called Harvest, in addition to my other
duties. After a successful launch in June of 1969, I was ready to plan
more releases...
One day, late in March, 1969, I received a message that Syd Barrett had
‘phoned EMI’s studio booking office to ask if he could go back into the
studios and start recording again. It was over a year since Syd had
parted company with Pink Floyd and, as head of Harvest, the request was
referred to me.
I had never met Syd, although he had apparently been in the studio
with Peter Jenner a year previously, just after I joined EMI. Needless to
say I was familiar with his past successes with the Floyd, and I knew as
much as anyone about the circumstances surrounding his leaving. It had
occurred to me on several occasions to ask what had become of Syd’s own
solo career. Peter Jenner and Andrew King, the original Floyd management
team, managed many artists on Harvest. Dark references were made to
’broken microphones in the studios and general disorder’ by EMI
management, and this had resulted in a period when, if not actually
banned, Syd’s presence at Abbey Road was not particularly encouraged. None of Peter Jenner’s recordings of
Syd had turned out releasable, and no-one in EMI’s A&R department had gone
out of his way to encourage Syd back. Now that I had A&R responsibility
for Harvest, I was determined to make the most of this contact with Syd
and I rang him back immediately.
Syd explained that he had lots more material for a new album, and
since he had not recorded for more or less two years there was no reason
to doubt him. He was also keen to try and salvage some of Peter Jenner’s
sessions (see session Appendices), and in all he seemed very together - in
contrast to all the rumours circulating at the time. There was, he said,
a song called Opel, another called Terrapin, a song about an Indian girl
called Swan Lee, and one called Clowns And Jugglers. Plus he had started
work at Abbey Road on a James Joyce poem, ‘Golden Hair’ which he was most
anxious to complete. It all sounded too good for words!
The next day I approached Roy Featherstone, my immediate boss at the
time, with the line ‘Syd’s ready to record again’, explaining the
conversation I’d had with Syd and pushing hard for his restoration to
favour. Roy was very positive, but said he’d also have to check with his
boss, Ron White, who authorized all recordings. In all honesty it wasn’t
very hard persuading them both to let Syd record again. Both Roy and Ron
were well aware of Syd’s successes and potential capabilities. The Pink
Floyd had already said that they did not wish to release any more singles;
‘Point Me At The Sky’ and ‘It Would Be So Nice’ before it had been flops
and were no longer indicative of the style that the new line-up was
developing. Work had already begun on what
was to become “Ummagumma” the previous November (with ‘Embryo’; more about
that later!!). It is likely that they felt that, if EMI could have the
‘new’ Floyd and the creative genius behind the ’old’ both recording, then
all the better. I furthermore had a powerful argument in reserve should
they deny Syd this chance to
resume his career. If they would not consent, I privately argued, then
they could not morally hold Syd to his contract, although legally it would
have been possible. Fortunately, it never came to that, and Ron and Roy
gave me their permission and support to let Syd record.
Contrary to what was
later printed, E.M.I. never stipulated that Syd could only cut singles. What was decided was to see what was the strength of Syd’s new material,
and plan accordingly. If it worked, then, O.K. we’d do an album. If not,
we’d call it a day.
My next task was to find a producer who Syd would feel comfortable
with and of whom EMI would approve, as they were adamant that Syd should
not record unaided in view of previous events. (1) I never did ask Syd if
the rumours of studio damage were true. I suspect if there was any truth
in the stories then
it was probably exaggerated. None of the engineers ever made reference to
them. The obvious first choice was Norman Smith, an EMI staff producer
and then still producer for the Floyd. Norman was one of the finest
producers of the time, and certainly the best of those affiliated as staff
producer. Norman engineered many of the early Beatles classics, and was a
fine musician. Unfortunately his commitment to the Floyd (‘Ummagumma’ was
in the early stages) and his reluctance to have a conflict of interests
with the Floyd and Syd made him decline the job. Peter Jenner similarly
thought it wise to stay out, especially in view of his increasing
responsibility to the growing roster of acts he managed with Andrew King
(including Edgar Broughton Band, Tyrannosaurus Rex, Pete Brown, and soon,
Kevin Ayers). The other obvious choice, in retrospect, would have been to
offer Joe Boyd the chance to work with Syd again as he produced ‘Arnold
Layne’; regrettably, it didn’t occur to me at the time. Although I had
met Joe a couple of times, I don’t recall knowing that he’d done ’Arnold
Layne’. I certainly didn’t remember his name from my copy of the record,
so I didn’t think of him. I still regret that. E.M.I. had no other staff
producers capable of handling Syd’s style as Norman could have done, and
when I talked it over with Syd his response was stark and simple... ‘You
do it’. Syd knew I was a musician (of sorts), and as he saw me as his
ally at EMI (& I had produced ‘Love Sculpture”s first album) I probably
was a logical choice to him. I was also acceptable to EMI’s bosses who
wanted someone they knew and trusted present on the sessions. If this
seems naive in 1982, in 1969 no one produced their own records, not even
the Beatles.
At Syd’s suggestion, then, and almost by default, I became Syd’s
producer.
I called him immediately to say we were in business, and suggested a
meeting to go over his new material. As I was unfamiliar with Peter Jenner’s productions of the previous year, I asked Syd to play me tapes he
had of rough mixes of a song called Silas Lang (re-titled ‘Swan Lee’) (2)
“Silas Lang” is the original title on the EMI files, and this was later
changed to “Swan Lee”. Syd never referred to it as Silas Lang, and this
may be a mistake on the part of the engineer on the original session.
Part of the lyric goes ‘the land in silence stands’, which sounds, in
part, rather like ‘Silas Lang’. ,’Late Night’. (The master at EMI of this
original was probably erased and re-made later), ‘Ramadan’ (or ‘Rhamadan’),
Lanky parts one and two (the last two were long instrumentals) and ‘Golden
Hair’, which Syd had referred to many times. ‘Silas Lang’ or ‘Swan Lee’
was a long and rambling tale about an Indian maiden, reminiscent in many
ways of the story of Hiawatha. It had no vocal when I heard it, but had
promise. The version of ‘Late Night’ was not the one finally released,
but it too had a certain charm so we agreed to re-make that. ‘Lanky’ and
‘Rhamadan’ were very long and rambling percussion instrumentals. Engineer
Peter Bown’s announcement on the tape of ‘Lanky Part One’ is, rather
wearily, ”Five minutes of drums!”. It wasn’t very good! “Rhamadan”
lasted for almost twenty minutes, and in its unfinished state was also
pretty boring. Syd too was not satisfied with it (he’d overdubbed several
conga drums in random improvisation) and we agreed to abandon that. But
in contrast, ‘Golden Hair’ was great, although it needed a little cleaning
up (eventually, Syd re-made it with Dave Gilmour and Roger Waters). After
Syd had played me these tapes and we had discussed which to continue with,
he played me the new songs. One of the most exciting was a song in ¾
(waltz) tempo, which was the best I had heard so far. Part of the lyric is
reprinted overleaf.
OPEL
(Syd Barrett) Copyright All
rights reserved. (Excerpt)
On a distant shore, miles from land
Stands the ebony totem in ebony sand
The dream in a mist of gray
On a far distant shore
A pebble that stood alone
Driftwood lies half buried
Warm shallow water sweeps shells
So the cockles shine
A bare winding carcass stark
Shimmers as flies scoop up meat
An empty way and dry tears
I’m trying to find you
I’m living, I’m giving
To find you
To find you
I’m drowning ......
It was an
extremely haunting song; very stark and poignant. We would certainly
record that one. Next came a song called ‘Clowns and Jugglers’. Fans
will know it under its eventual title, ’Octopus’, again, another ‘yes’.
Next Syd played snatches of another song, ‘Terrapin’ which was similar in
feel to ‘Opel’, though less desolate. And finally he played an old tymey
song ’Love You’ which I liked a little, but as Syd was pretty keen on it,
largely because it was uptempo, I agreed on that too. Already we seemed to
have enough for ¾ of an album and certainly several sessions. I left Syd’s flat totally elated, determined next day to book studio time
immediately and to get started. (1) By coincidence I lived in the same
square as Syd - Earls Court Square. By a further coincidence, Dave
Gilmour was living at the time in the block backing onto Syd’s in the
adjacent Old Brompton Road.
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