THE MADCAP LAUGHS

Barrett's solo work is not (truly) a matter of albums, discs and spins; it's a full, short and rarely demanding moment of music and sheer taste. Pretty close to the idea, Syd Barrett isn't doing his plain private records; he's having his most powerful freedom of expression. The Pink Floyd approach is both consumable (two of his colleagues are present, as guests) and straightened away, given that Barrett influenced tremendously (with what he had as authentic writing, singing, playing and envisioning) the psychedelic debut of the great band (and it's best, Saucerful Of Secrets), yet didn't stay long in the great pink atmosphere, neither thrived on the same level as Floyd into his own doing. The juicy idea is that Barrett is, individually, the great and fascinating music talent, while his moment away from Pink Floyd hasn't got the slightest of a blur and a smirk: it's exciting and fun, it's consistent and stylishly abiding, it's elegant and interesting, it's deep and woozy. The moment lasts for two albums, Madcap Laughs and Barrett, neither too noticeably dissimilar, nor two sharply alike. Both meaning music, style, verse and a bit of appeal (being needed).

Madcap Laughs is no state of the art (it would wrong to think of it like that), but it surely a great album to sink in, figuratively or (rather) concretely. Worthy for its possessive pop-psychedelic, songwriting skills, acoustic rock challenges and mono-lyrical emotions, the album reflects Barrett in a supreme moment of feeling comfortable, strong ecstatic, sensibly expressive or weirdly complex. From 13 pieces, Madcap's beautiful, rupturing and succumbed qualities are part of Barrett's joy, precision and psyched waft, summing up a deeming creativity, a fearful cold manner, a bit of jovial rock pluck and a kind juicy fever of interpretation and improvisation. Barrett is the magician, wholeheartedly dedicated to his project, though other artists (include Gilmour, Waters and Wyatt) help on a couple of pieces or on more special acts.

The album is simple, eerily patient and skilled, but you can almost feel how complex the strut air, inside the music, really is. Madcap Laughs is essentially the brightest solo album, with the best pieces from the artist's entire saucerful collection, leaving Barrett in a state of fragile art rock, despite that the characters are much the same. In a transparent numbness and an eloquent expressiveness, the album is no frugal pill and no hazard of melodies and broken limb rhythms. The songs, almost all of them, are an individual study and concept, being also the most delightful quality. But Barrett crafts the chemistry deep into "lightmotifs" of stringing while singing, rocking while jocking and alternating the ambition of sour or dry lyrics with the hidden churn of poetry and "singing with a feeling". Madcap's tremendous subtlety is cut down to hearing simple, most short, feathery, various but stereotypical and light-darkened songs, all being powerfully reflexive on a psychedelic determined practice, that springs from chanting to dry scotch experimenting and healthy art wobbling. Sounds fine to say that, in the end, half of the material is made of gems, of songs so bright, lovely, interactive or blended that they're also something Barrett will never achieve in other recordings. The other songs, more brewed or mucked, have nevertheless the same values: not just tracks and tunes, but music; not just enigmatic soft/popular psychedelism, but a tenacious moment of rock emotion; not just singing, but performing, under the trademark of an unusual and (often) discrete flamboyance.

Madcap Laughs is not a veracious psychedelic/pop-rock/progressive tape, but it is all the same Barrett's fundamental solo volume, reflecting his breakthrough from Floyd and his one year of mastering a remarkable kind of art music.