Listening to Pink Floyd’s Piper at The Gates of Dawn if you’re only familiar with their latter, more well-known catalog can be a confounding experience. Six years before they released Dark Side of the Moon, the dark, gritty blueprint on which many prog-rock bands would follow, the band’s 1967 debut feels like it came from an alternate universe.
To a degree, part of the reason it sounds so different is when it was released — fuzzy trippy guitar tones and playful baroque pop were what the 1960s were known for. However, it has more to do with one of Floyd’s band members, who was absent from the group by the third album.
The man in question was Syd Barrett, a vocalist/guitarist who some view as a visionary and others as a cautionary tale. The truth is that he was both: an icon of the ‘60s drug counterculture and a creative genius.
David Gilmour eventually replaced Barrett due to his unreliability — Barrett was often so drugged up on psychedelics like LSD during performances and throughout recordings of the band’s sophomore album A Saucerful of Secrets (1968) he couldn’t play.
Most of Piper at the Gates of Dawn consists of Barrett mixing childhood-esque lyrics with nursery rhyme wordplay while utilizing his distinct psychedelically unhinged guitar playing.
But would psychedelic space epics like “Interstellar Overdrive” have existed without LSD? Barrett’s guitar seems otherworldly, as erratic twangs, noodles, and strums launch the piece into a stratospheric journey. Though spacey and sometimes atonal, resembling free jazz, the nine-minute song reflects how the young musician periodically channeled his creative work using the substance.
This song is perhaps where you can hear the closest to where some of Pink Floyd’s work would go after Barrett would leave, as the title track off their follow-up album Saucerful of Secrets utilizes similar chaotic noise and space elements, though in a much darker way.
Most of Piper at the Gates of Dawn consists of Barrett mixing childhood-esque lyrics with nursery rhyme wordplay while utilizing his distinct psychedelically unhinged guitar playing. “Lucifer Sam,” a song about Barrett’s cat, begins with a Duane Eddy-inspired surf rock riff twisted with distortion and flower power.
Barrett playfully recounts his interactions with the feline: “Lucifer Sam, Siam cat/ Always sitting by your side/ Always by your side/ That cat’s something I can’t explain.” Then there’s “Take Up Thy Stethoscope and Walk,” featuring an underrated trading solo jam between Rick Wright and Syd Barrett, who tremolo picks and kerplunks his strings so strangely, that it’s captivating.
But the best example of Barrett’s playfulness comes from “Bike” with lyrics apt to bring a smile to anyone’s face: “I’ve got a bike, you can ride it if you like/ It’s got a basket, a bell that rings/ And things to make it look good/ I’d give it to you if I could, but I borrowed it.”
This sense of humor from the turn of phrase in the last line is particularly endearing. Though Pink Floyd could sometimes be playful on later albums, such as on Meddle (1971) when they got a dog to howl on a blues shuffle on “Mademoiselle Nobs,” Barrett’s naturally injected humor into Piper would not be felt when he left the band.
Barrett was still present on three tracks in Saucerful of Secrets, most prominently on his sole written contribution “Jughand Blues.” This track features his vocals with strangely fitting lyrics that express his mental state and position within the band: “It’s awfully considerate of you to think of me here/ And I’m most obliged to you for making it clear/ I’m not here.”
Later in the track, a brass band and kazoos crop up, and the listener comes the closest to hearing what it must have felt like to be in Barrett’s head. The album mirrors Barrett’s schizophrenia in ways, as the music takes on a grittier seriousness, while also trying to replicate Barrett in strange ways.
For example, take another track off A Saucerful of Secrets: “Set The Controls For the Heart of the Sun,” where Roger Waters, the band’s newly appointed lyricist, said he felt the closest to replicating Barrett’s writing. Utilizing a similar procedure to how Barrett wrote Piper’s “Chapter 24,” a track that took inspiration from the I Ching, Waters procured the lyrics for his song from another book of Chinese poetry (Li He’s “Don’t Go Out of the Door”).
Though many are happy Pink Floyd went in the direction they did, the question looms: “What would have happened if Syd Barrett stayed in the band?”
This track also features Barrett, this time only on electric guitar, and is the only studio recording with all five band members present on a Pink Floyd track. The only other track on the album to feature Barrett is “Remember A Day,” where he plays slide guitar.
Despite these homages to Barrett and his minor appearances throughout the album, songs on A Saucerful of Secrets still exude a grittier seriousness than on Piper, such as “One of These Days,” a track that would have never been created with Barrett at the helm.
Heavy drumbeats and sinister-sounding guitar allow the one lyric in the song to rise to the top, one entirely removed from Syd’s more upbeat wheelhouse: “One of these days, I’m gonna cut you into little pieces.” Waters’ lyrics on “Corporal Clegg” would also evoke later themes the band would explore in more detail. It is the first with war theming, a concept Waters brought to the forefront on The Wall (1979).
Despite these first forays into deviations from Piper’s original sound, it took Pink Floyd another six albums to capture what the band is known best for with 1973’s Dark Side of the Moon. Throughout the ‘70s and beyond, the members of Pink Floyd still missed their former vocalist/guitarist and his charming spirit, eventually tributing him in one of their greatest works Wish You Were Here (1975), a brilliant album that encapsulates grief and loss.
If any Pink Floyd fan knows Syd Barrett’s story, they’re apt to sense the catharsis Pink Floyd felt when creating the album, especially the title track and “Shine on You Crazy Diamond” portions.
Whereas Pink Floyd would move towards a darker direction in their opuses in the ‘70s, Barrett would release two solo studio albums, both relatively raw-sounding. Though neither of Barrett’s albums is a masterpiece, they are both intriguing and depressing, showcasing an artist in a rapid descent of mental instability.
Sometimes, they reflect his playfulness and childlike inspiration, such as The Madcap Laughs’ “Octopus.” However, they also remind the listener of a better time during Piper at The Gates of Dawn, where the artist better straddled the line between drug abuse and inspiration.
Though many are happy Pink Floyd went in the direction they did, the question looms: “What would have happened if Syd Barrett stayed in the band?” Unfortunately, we’ll never know.
This article was written by Bill Cooper, who writes about music, films, books, and pop culture in various internet corners like Spectrum Culture. His two greatest urges, discovering new music and writing, keep him up at night and going during the day. The extensive amount of coffee he drinks may also contribute.
You can follow Bill Cooper on Bluesky.
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