By Craig P. Dixon, southcoast247.com correspondent Social Commentary 70
August 2, 2006
Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to this week’s edition of Craig Cares. I’m your host, Craig P. Dixon.
This weekend, I received some mail from home. Included in this bundle of bills, Democratic National Committee bullshit and 5.99% APR credit card offers was Rolling Stone magazine – the only thing of any value amongst the bunch.
I look forward to every Rolling Stone. The magazine is highly entertaining. Its reviews are usually spot on, and the political and social articles are skewed leftward. Rolling Stone’s my kind of magazine.
But when I opened the mag to find a tribute to a dead at 60 Syd Barrett, “Pink Floyd’s madcap genius”, I was absolutely shocked.
I had no idea Barrett had died. I just don’t see or read the news out here. But I wasn’t so surprised at the man’s death…just that he’d lived that long.
The real surprise was Rolling Stone referring to Barrett as a genius.
Far as I’m concerned, Barrett had nothing to do with what truly defined Floyd. That was all the doing of Gilmour and Waters. Barrett, much like Pete Doherty of Babyshambles or Sid Vicious of The Sex Pistols, was merely a liability: A drugged-out shitmess who’d either a) sit onstage in a catatonic state, b) get onstage and play anything but the band’s playlist and have to be escorted out, or c) never make it to the show.
But wait: Rolling Stone referred to Doherty as a genius as well. Perhaps they’re saying you need to do more coke, crack, and heroin than humanly reasonable and never meet your potential to qualify as genius in the RS.
A moron like Doherty would do well to learn from the life lessons of Barrett and Vicious, before he ends up dead with a needle in his arm and we’re reading articles about a trouble genius.
Sure, Barrett may have formed the original Floyd lineup. He came up with the name for the band, wrote many of the first songs, and helped start the craze that became psychedelic rock.
But the guy couldn’t handle it. He took buckets of LSD and drove himself into madness. And everyone knows taking anything in excessive amounts is going to fuck you up.
Sid Barrett is a wonderful case in point. Though his family has never mentioned exactly what mental illness turned him into a weirded-out recluse, its obvious the gallons of acid had something to do with it.
And what’s the deal with the RS referring to this guy as the crazy old man who’s seen too much? Unlike the Ancient Mariner, who received his experience, craziness, and wild-eyes from living life, pushing to the limits, and yes, fucking up and making amends, Barrett did a ton of drugs, dug far too deep into the shithole of his mind, and couldn’t handle it. There’s nothing tragic about Barrett. Stupid and wasteful, maybe, but not tragic.
So, the question is: Are you meaning to tell me that this guy was one who knew mysterious things I’ll never understand? Saw things I couldn’t see?
Bullshit. Barrett was just a fucked up, crazy recluse who had absolutely nothing to do with the Floyd we all know and love. That, my friends, was the genius of Roger Waters and David Gilmour.
But hey, let’s send the crazy fucker off as a genius anyhow. The word is tossed around so much that it’s become worn-out. Meaningless.
This weekend, I received some mail from home. Included in this bundle of bills, Democratic National Committee bullshit and 5.99% APR credit card offers was Rolling Stone magazine – the only thing of any value amongst the bunch.
