Floating & Flaming - Syd Barrett

A Dance Hall

We'd arrived at my first ever concert. The hall was crowded with teenagers eager to hear music they could dance to, not really caring if it meant anything or not. My eyes were wide with wonder. An act was already playing their set, just the typical American music we all had on our records at home. It didn't even sound original, which disappointed me a great deal. My friend noticed.

"Hey, Piper. It's not all like that, I promise. In fact, I was so insistent tonight because there's a really good group playing some of their own stuff. I can't even describe it. The first time I heard them it was like I was transported or something. Oh, look! You won't have to wait long to hear for yourself! They're setting up now!" I'd never seen Lindsey so enthusiastic as she elbowed our way through the crowd, getting us as close as possible to the slightly elevated stage.

The musicians couldn't have been much older than us, but they were very different. They each wore shaggy hair and were dressed more "out there" compared to any band I'd ever seen on the sleeve of one of my records.

The boy in the front holding a guitar turned around to speak into the microphone. My heart stopped.

"Who is that." It didn't come out as a question. My voice had lost all inflection. He was the most beautiful human being I had ever seen.

"Who's who?" Lindsey turned to see my awestruck expression and followed my line of sight to the guitarist. "Oh. That's Roger Barrett. Most people call him Syd. He's quite handsome, isn't he? People say he looks like a poet. Not really my type though."

How could he not be your type?! "He's incredible."

I hadn't realized that the noise in the hall had died down in preparation for Syd to speak, so my observation echoed around. The subject of my comment looked for the source of the statement and was met with a very rosy and embarrassed culprit. He gazed down at me, looking straight through me with eyes a deep shade of violet. Was I delusional, or did he smile at me?

His voice broke through the silence, "Good evening everyone. I hope you'll listen and enjoy what we like to call 'The Pink Floyd Sound.'"

A cheer rang out through the masses. His speaking voice alone was even melodic.

The music began, washing over the crowd until we were in a trance. Time had stood still in that moment. Slowly, realizing that we were in fact present here on earth, we all began to move together as one collective. I looked around. Everyone wasn't dancing really, just swaying like gravity didn't exist. Lindsey closed her eyes, fully absorbed. I almost did, but glancing back at the stage, I was put under the spell of that mysterious character.

He was captivating. I still remember exactly how he looked that magical evening. The low lights cast surreal shadows on his features. I finally allowed myself to notice the other members of the group, similarly enveloped in shadow. The bassist was quite tall, with a long face and a haunting energy about him. The dark-haired drummer was emphatic about every beat he played, traces of a smile frequently gracing his face. The boy on keyboard was quite adorable, he had sandy hair and "sparkling eyes" as Lindsey would later describe them.

"Isn't he gorgeous?" she whispered to me.

"Yes. I thought I'd already confessed that quite loudly."

She lightly smacked my arm. "No, you fool. Not Syd. Rick! The keyboard bloke!"

"Oh, I guess. Yeah, I could see that."

"After the show we should totally talk to them!"

I felt all the blood drain from my face. "No. Way."

How could I possibly approach him? He seemed unattainable at this distance. Imagine how much worse it must be to be near him! I couldn't bear that kind of rejection.

"Come on, Piper! We're going to even if I have to pick you up and throw you!"

She seemed serious. Our dispute ended with the first song. This time, the scary bassist addressed the audience.

"Hello. Is there anybody out there?" A cheer in response. "I'd like to dedicate this next song to no one in particular. The stars maybe. I'm not the creative one of the group." He shrugged toward Syd.

Syd chuckled a bit. "Come off it, Roger! You're full of creativity! Actually, is it creativity? You're full of something that's for sure." Laughter echoed in the hall. "You know I'm joking, Rog. Your lyrics are some of our best. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to recite a short part of a poem that reminds me of tonight. It is called, 'She Walks in Beauty' by some fellow named Lord Byron."

A hush fell. Those mad eyes once again flitted through the room. "She walks in beauty, like the night- of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that's best of dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes."

I could barely believe it. I could hear my heart pounding so loud I swore anyone could hear. He was looking straight at me the entire time.

When he'd finished, he stared at me for a little while longer before beginning another song. I was going to faint.

"I don't feel very well, Lin. I think I need to get some air."

"Are you sure? They've only got a couple more songs. You don't want to miss them, do you?" She was disappointed.

I couldn't be there any longer. "I'll be able to hear them from outside. Just come get me when it's over." And with that, I pushed my way through the packed room and out one of the side doors to the garden outside the dance hall.

Sitting on the large and rather too ornate fountain, I tried to compose myself. I was able to hear them from outside. That was the problem! His voice was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. That terrified me.