That’s about all we can be sure of. The variations are so great in number that the outline given in the preceding page is like a springboard into infinite universes. A number of Barrett purists like to cast the story in terms of heroes and villains, often placing either Gilmour or Roger Waters in the role of spotlight-hungry opportunist; this view is not without its appeal, as it does seem rather unsporting for the band to keep the Pink Floyd moniker after losing its founding member to circumstances beyond his control. Meanwhile, devotees of Dark Side of the Moon, amidst whose thronging numbers we here at Last Plane to Jakarta cannot mingle, like to think of Barrett as the crazy guy who sort of set in motion a machine too great and majestic for his insane if appealing little noodlings to carry. That Barrett took a whole lot of acid shortly before he became too unpredictable for the stage is a matter of public record; what role his friends had in egging him on, and how greatly his drug use figured in his eventual inability to go on, are the kinds of questions around which fierce loyalties and bitter accusations develop. Meanwhile, such facts as we have take on the luminous sheen of the unconfirmable; a few excellent Syd Barrett fansites gather every available scrap of information like trawlers combing the ocean floor. The various threads are as addictive as conspiracy theory: the further you get into it, the less you want to emerge. There is no way of getting to the end. |