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Jimi played the Bingo Hall
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Syd Barett & his Psychedelic Travels
Syd pulled out a mysterious metallic object from his pocket. It warned him of mis-firing wrongly wired androids that were on a murderous rampage, but before Syd could go and save the day he had to answer the twins questions, vis-à-vis the possibility that a time machine could be in Syd’s well appointed, airy living room.
Syd sipped his tea, took a healthy bite of a biscuit, sat down and began to tell a tale that has remained untold.
The twins leaned forward, excited.
Syd joined Pink Floyd, who at the time were called the Tea Set, in 1964. Prior to Syds arrival they went by the names Sigma 6, The Meggadeaths and , The Screaming Abdabs. Syd’s first input into the band was to change their name, when unexpectedly they played on the same bill as another band called the Tea Sat. Syd chuckled a childish chuckle at the thought of two bands in the same place at the same time, both with such a shit name.
Syd was the major song writer, penning their first single ,Arnold Layne” and “See Emily Play” and the majority of their first album “The Pipers at the Gates of Dawn”, an album believed to be the blueprint for British psychedelia.
Anyway, Syd went on, he was writing songs and eating drugs daily, large quantities of mind mending drugs. Syd pointed out to the twins that drugs in thoses days were far stronger and far powerful the the stuff you buy today.
Anyways, Syd went on, his interests in thoe days were music, folk stories and space and all of these themes appeared in his music. One day at a party, a man was offering round sugar cubes coated with acid. Syd took some and the trip was so powerful he sat their for three days, motionless while his brain flew off at tangents and in different directions and all the world seemed to be made of running paint and all the candles were melting and peoples faces contorted into masks and the walls became mosaics and liquid in glass seemed to move like tidal waves and when people spook it was s l o w and he understood about one in every eight words and nothing made sense but everything was crystal clear and diamond sharp and the nosie and when he heard music jumping from record player he saw the musical dance and skip through air that was filed was smoke the summer sun shone through the window and burnt Syd’s retinas and he saw a blinding light and it was then that Syd had his vision. It appeared to him, complete and wrapped up in a box. Syd saw it all that day. He picked up pencil and started writing. When he cme around he had filled pages up with diagrams, logarithms and algebraic equations,
He had the blueprints for a time machine.
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Arnold and Sam flashed each other quick glances.
Their tiny minds had never encountered something like this before. Here they stood, in Syd Barretts house, and in front of them appeared to be some sort of time traveling vehicle. And next to said vehicle appeared to be Syd Barret.
“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my house”, the man asked again.
The two twins took turns to explain themselves, telling Syd who the fuck they were and what the were doing in his house. Syd listened while he fiddled around with wires that poked from the machine. The machine hummed whirled then suddenly stopped. A eerie silence echoed round the house.
Syd turned to them.
The twins looked at Syd.
Syd looked at the twins.
“Let’s go into the kitchen, have cup of tea, a few biscuits”, suggested Syd as he marched past the twins and headed out of the door, turning left and into his spacious, and it must be said, modern kitchen.
The twins sat there. They were in Syd Barretts house. Syd was making them a brew. He was arranging biscuits in a lovely fan shape, bourbons, pink wafers, fruit short cake, a whole smorgasbord of delightful biscuits were being decoratively arranged on the plate.
The kettle whistled and Syd bought the pot, on a tray with cups and biscuits, to the table.
Syd Barrett. Here in the flesh thought Arnold and Sam collectively. It was all to much for them. So much in fact they had nearly forgot about the time machine that stood dormant in Syds lounge.
Sam, picked up his brew and dunked a pink wafer in his tea,. He watched the wafer suck up and absorb the tea.
“Syd, what is that thing in your front room?”, quizzed Sam. “it looks like a time machine”.
Syd shoot them a suspicious look.
He didn’t know know why, but Syd trusted these twins. When he looked at Arnold and Sam he felt a strange sense of deja-vu, a weird feeling that there was a connection, some kind of bond between these twins and himself.
With this strange feeling in his stomach, Syd joined the twins at the table, poured himself a tea selected a biscuit and began to tell the two kids what he had been up to these past 30 years.
Meanwhile, elsewhere, somewhere, outside the solid walls of the house, in a place that didn’t exsist, a place that no one had heard of, wrongly wired androids were on a murderous rampage, and they only person who could put a stop to this madness was Syd Barrett.
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Arnold and Sam were two twins, well they wouldn’t be one twin would they. Yes, they were twins, both of them.
Their parents named them after two Pink Floyd songs, Arnold from Arnold Layne, a delightful ditty about a transvestite whose primary pastime is nicking women's undoes from washing lines and Sam, Sam was named after the song Lucifer Sam. Dad wanted to go with Lucifer but mother withheld certain conjugal rights until he changed his mind.
Sam and Arnold, Arnold and Sam. Twins. Two twins, just like Gemini.
They grew up in a house that worshipped Pink Floyd and in particular, wide eyed LSD loving, staring into space guitar loon Syd Barrett.
One day when they old enough Arnold and Sam decided to hunt down the elusive Syd to see if he would sign an old album for their parents anniversary. They were good boys like that. So one sunny day they set off to Cambridge.
Syd, Roger Roger Barrett not Syd Roger, (doesn’t sound right does it?) as he goes by now, wasn’t really elusive, it was just an urban myth, a little bit of rock and roll romance. If you wanted to find him just go to his mothers house and he should be, gardening or indoors painting.
Talking to him, making contact was another thing. Rumor has it he last spoke in public I the 70’s but this wasn’t going to deter Arnold and Sam.
The arrived at Cambridge, full of vim, verve and confidence. Packed lunches of sandwiches, pop and crisps jiggled around in their backpacks, nestled together against a copy of the Madcap Laughs.
They asked a pedestrian if they could tell them where Syd Barret lived and the pedestrian was only happy to oblige. The twins followed the directions and after a brisk walk they arrived at his door.
They knocked on the door but no one answered. This didn’t surprises them so the snuck round the back hoping to find Syd weeding the garden, potting dome plants or watering some gomphrena or chrysanthemum. The garden was empty.
Not wanting to waste a trip the twins decided to break in. Not one for discretion, Arnold picked up a brick and lobbed it through the window, They climbed through hand found themselves in a rather mundane room. Before they had time to explore they heard a whoosign and a wheezing coming from the adjacent room. They rushed into the room hoping to see Syd, standing there, shining like a crazy diamond, composing a new psychedelic masterpiece with guitar in hands and a crazed glint in his dead eyes.
There was no Syd.
Suddenly, a bright light, a flash and before the twins could blink something appeared in the middle of the room. It could only be one thing.
A time machine.
A door opened and emerging from the innards of the contraception strode a man, a man who resembled a slightly overweight version of a cross between Doctor Who (the William Hartnell one, that is) and Timothy Leary, the counter culture acid king.
“I’m Syd Barrett”, the men said. “Who the fuck are you and what are doing in my house”?”
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