Syd Barrett surely qualifies for the Most well-spoken man in Pop award. Not since 1969 and The Casuals hit ‘Jesamine’ have we heard such rounded vowels and clearly articulated consonoants. But as if that’s not enough reason to love Syd, consider this, his first solo release after slipping away from his successful band, The Pink Floyd.

The paisley silk and bangles now back in the dressing-up box, we find Syd barechested and wild-haired in a deserted west London flat, alone with his guitars and his brooding isolation.

The searching, reflective mood of his lyrics finds a perfect match in spare musical arrangements — occasionally floating, occasionally stumbling, but always luminous. Occasionally helped out by other players, much of the album is Syd accompanying himself on his acoustic guitar. But when he chooses to rock — Dark Globe, for example — believe me, that telecaster is fuzzed up and set to stun.

“Inside me I feel alone and unreal but the way you kiss wil always be a very special thing to me,” sings Syd on the album’s closing track. And it’s this detachment, this impassive observation of his increasing distance from the rest of us, and the “you” he remembers so fondly, which takes this collection far above the whimsical acid casualty of lazy cliché. 

Listening to this record is a sad experience in many ways: although not as despondent lyrically as his next album, “Barrett”, all the signs are here that this talented young artist was resigned to setting sail into unknown water in the full knowledge that sooner or letter, he’d find himself becalmed, with no way back.