As we all know, the crazy diamond formerly known as Syd Barrett has departed from this planet. If it was on an Interstellar Overdrive, I don’t know, I think that most likely it was not, but his departure was sufficient to bring his name back to the pages of papers and magazines. From the forgotten corner of our collective memory he arose again in the front pages of most music magazines, a reminder of the loss of a truly visionary talent.

In this tribute for Creature Magazine, I was tempted to drop some acid and let the lysergic muses possess me and let me speak with their voices. But, this is not an acid tribute, but a Syd tribute. This is not to glamorise drug consumption or to condemn it. This is not an apology to hedonism nor a condemnation of it. This is about the music. This is about his art. His legacy on Earth that he shared with us, and we were fortunate enough to receive it. Like true great art it transcends the boundaries of time. Like true visionaries he thought beyond his time and his thought crystallized in music touched other kindred spirits. Never mind that he is dead, the tragic outcome of his life or his prolonged artistic silence. His music legacy may be scarce, but brilliant, it’s better to have a small output of greatness than a never-ending career of mediocrity. Do you really want to do a heartfelt tribute to Syd? Listen to his records. Listen to the people that were inspired by him and carried on his legacy. Get a guitar or other instrument and start to do crazy things with it, if necessary break a few strings and bust some mics and amps, create spirals of otherworldly melody and by that you’re already carrying on his legacy. Brothers and sisters, it’s fucking time for a psychedelic revolution. Are you ready to testify for it? To give blood to it? To put your heart and soul truly into it? To ignore the voices of the followers of trends and fashions? Remember, brothers and sisters: “Emily tries but misunderstands/ She is often inclined to borrow somebody’s dreams ‘til tomorrow…”

When I was younger, the Pink Floyd who induced me to listen to other types of music, instead of just listening exclusively to metal. They were the ones which introduced my ears to psychedelia and fucked my mind for good. They were the ones that introduced me to the potentials of synthesizers and vintage keyboards. When I started to listen to Pink Floyd, I heard about their first singer and guitarist, Syd Barrett, and his name was shrouded in mystery. I heard tales of him getting insane because of copious consumption of acid and that his music was one of the weirdest psychedelic experiences. To my young impressionable mind that created a certain sense of awe and fascination. I had to get access to his music, beg, borrow or steal. I had to have access to it and be in the ranks of those initiated in its mysteries. In time I bought Piper at the Gates of Dawn. I was captivated by it, although I realized that the rumours were a bit exaggerated. But, still it’s a truly remarkable album, one of the best debut albums of all time and it’s always a source of pleasure to listen to it. I think Syd, besides having a great lyrical vision and talent as a songwriter, was a brilliant guitarist. Not in that dodgy virtuoso sense of playing a zillion notes a second, but in the sense that he showed that you don’t have to be technically brilliant to be an amazing guitarist, what matters is the sounds that come out of it, the creativity of ones playing. Most journalists attribute this to punk rock, but most music journalists are one of the lowest forms of life on this planet to be honest.

Remember, these words aren’t what’s keeping Syd’s legacy alive. Someone out there is listening to one of his albums. Some band in a garage or rehearsal studio is playing some weird otherworldly music. Those, brothers and sisters are the ones who are keeping the memory alive. I invite you to be one of them. Shine on!

Vasco Pereira