Shine on you crazy diamond

I was saddened to learn this morning that Syd Barrett, the original lead singer of Pink Floyd, died last Friday. It's interesting that I would be upset by the passing of a musician who hasn't recorded anything since before I was born, but Syd wrote some memorable songs. The time from Pink Floyd's beginnings through a couple years after Syd was unceremoniously removed from the band was by far their best and most creative period, and I think a lot of what I listen to now has been influenced by my discovery of pre-Dark Side of the Moon Pink Floyd in late high school. Who knew that Larry capering about and singing Bike would have such a lasting effect on my pop-cultural preferences? The UK Guardian published a slew of eulogies today, one of which is here. For the most part, they thankfully avoided the cliches about Syd's drug use and talked instead about his continuing influence on popular music. I came home today and put on Arnold Layne and smiled at the audacity of a musician who could write a song that has the peppy sound of early Beatles but is about stealing women's underwear from clotheslines.