From: owner-fegmaniax-digest@smoe.org (fegmaniax-digest) To: fegmaniax-digest@smoe.org Subject: fegmaniax-digest V15 #165 Reply-To: fegmaniax@smoe.org Sender: owner-fegmaniax-digest@smoe.org Errors-To: owner-fegmaniax-digest@smoe.org Precedence: bulk fegmaniax-digest Sunday, July 16 2006 Volume 15 : Number 165 Today's Subjects: ----------------- RE: robYn on sYd ["Brian Huddell" ] Eb, really [Jill Brand ] my head spins [Jill Brand ] RE: robYn on sYd ["michael wells" ] Re: robYn on sYd [2fs ] Mission of Burma : Syd tribute at the paradise [HwyCDRrev@aol.com] RE: robYn on sYd ["Brian Nupp" ] My lovably ordinary brother Syd [HwyCDRrev@aol.com] An eternal summer with Syd [HwyCDRrev@aol.com] Re: My lovably ordinary brother Syd [Jeff Dwarf ] Syd tribute on canadian radio tonight [bayard ] Re: My lovably ordinary brother Syd ["Stewart C. Russell" ] Re: Eb, really [Eb ] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Sat, 15 Jul 2006 19:31:30 -0500 From: "Brian Huddell" Subject: RE: robYn on sYd Eb: > > Robyn Hitchcock talks about Syd Barrett. Thanks enormously to > > Brain Damage for pointing out the Podcast in this article > > Interesting...though I was a little disappointed in Robyn's > insights. > Nothing at all about Syd's distinctive melodic phrasing...the > somewhat facile insinuation that Dylan, Lennon and Syd put > themselves into their music to a unique degree.... Hrm. I thought the same thing. I doubt he even knows what he *means* by that. I take it as a tacit acknowledgement of the futility of dancing about architecture. Seriously, I can just see Robyn getting all tongue-tied as he imagines how *his* work will be eulogized, the words "quirky" and "eccentric" echoing in his head .... Astronomy Domine clip from 1967: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJN64ALqqew +brian in New Orleans ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 15 Jul 2006 23:05:10 -0400 (EDT) From: Jill Brand Subject: Eb, really My dearest Eb wrote: ""I asked her her name and in a dark brown voice she said, 'Lola.'""""" Since I've been drinking, I thought I'd add some quotation marks. But Eb, first of all, even my kids know that it's a "dark brown voice." And voices can have color. He could have said "swarthy voice" and it would have had the same meaning, I think. We just came back from a week of frolicking and tap dance mania in NYC, so I'm glad that the feglist is here to tell me what has been going on. The Syd Barrett death makes me blue; I still remember my brother unwrapping his brown paper packages of British imports to see what the latest and greatest would be. Early Pink Floyd rated high. I was a young 'un at the time, but thought that "I've got a bike, you can ride it if you like" was a truly wonderful line. RIP. Young Melanie (not so young anymore at 14) just put on Lola to see if there could be any mistaking. She thinks not. Jill ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 15 Jul 2006 23:18:53 -0400 (EDT) From: Jill Brand Subject: my head spins OK, Ray Davies is not dead (and I don't even want to contemplate what my life will be like if he goes before me). And no dissing Herman's Hermits!!!!!!!!! Yes, they were total pop music, but they were really great pop music. My son's girlfriend (gulp, that's the first time that I've written that) is really into the Blue Van. Does this mean anything to anyone? Jill ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 15 Jul 2006 23:17:03 -0700 From: "michael wells" Subject: RE: robYn on sYd Eb: > Interesting...though I was a little disappointed in Robyn's insights. Nothing at all about Syd's distinctive melodic phrasing...the somewhat facile insinuation that Dylan, Lennon and Syd put themselves into their music to a unique degree.... Hrm. Oh, I don't know - I think it came across OK, especially for having some guy with a recorder in his living room only a day or two after it happened. Saying that the physicality of those three in particular could be felt at the other end of the wireless, album speakers or whatever is kind of an ineffable and highly personal thing, when you think about it. Not sure there's anything really facile about it. Perhaps it's more to Brian's point; I *know* how listening to Robyn's music makes me feel - but it's awfully hard to express that to someone using words that convey the full power of that emotion or how it is being said. If interviewed about it, I would hope to be as insightful for twenty minutes as this was. Thought the bit about 'raw talent' was interesting too. Michael n.p. Greg Trooper - "Floating" ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 15 Jul 2006 23:34:47 -0500 From: 2fs Subject: Re: robYn on sYd On 7/16/06, michael wells wrote: > > Eb: > > Interesting...though I was a little disappointed in Robyn's insights. > Nothing at all about Syd's distinctive melodic phrasing...the > somewhat facile insinuation that Dylan, Lennon and Syd put themselves > into their music to a unique degree.... Hrm. > > > Oh, I don't know - I think it came across OK, especially for having some > guy > with a recorder in his living room only a day or two after it happened. > Saying that the physicality of those three in particular could be felt at > the other end of the wireless, album speakers or whatever is kind of an > ineffable and highly personal thing, when you think about it. Not sure > there's anything really facile about it. > > Perhaps it's more to Brian's point; I *know* how listening to Robyn's > music > makes me feel - but it's awfully hard to express that to someone using > words > that convey the full power of that emotion or how it is being said. If > interviewed about it, I would hope to be as insightful for twenty minutes > as > this was. > > Thought the bit about 'raw talent' was interesting too. The whole "Syd Barrett: acid casualty and wacko" bit gets a bit much (generally - I haven't actually had time to listen to the Robyn thing yet). No doubt he had a breakdown; and there seems no doubt he suffered from schizophrenia...yet he apparently had periods of lucidity after leaving Pink Floyd (as that Malcolm Jones thing I mentioned the other day makes clear). I more and more wonder whether his withdrawal - and the legend that sprung up about him - allowed him to be far less mad than he would have been (probably) and perhaps less than people think (who'd know?). - -- ...Jeff Norman The Architectural Dance Society http://spanghew.blogspot.com ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 16 Jul 2006 00:47:18 EDT From: HwyCDRrev@aol.com Subject: Mission of Burma : Syd tribute at the paradise _http://www.boston.com/ae/music/articles/2006/07/15/mission_of_burma_proves_it s_time_is_now/_ (http://www.boston.com/ae/music/articles/2006/07/15/mission_of_burma_proves_its_time_is_now/) During the encore Burma laid out Pink Floyd's trippy ``Astronomy Domine" in tribute to the late Syd Barrett. ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 16 Jul 2006 09:17:56 -0400 From: "Brian Nupp" Subject: RE: robYn on sYd >Astronomy Domine clip from 1967: > >http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJN64ALqqew > >+brian in New Orleans Good clip. I saw that for the 1st time just a few years back. It is obvious the live/stage influence Syd had on Robyn. Those arm movements, those facial expressions- particularly in this video! One of the pictures of Robyn from the Black Snake Diamond Role cd insert (the Aftermath 1987 one) comes to mind. - -Nuppy ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 16 Jul 2006 09:33:13 EDT From: HwyCDRrev@aol.com Subject: My lovably ordinary brother Syd _http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,2092-2271741,00.html_ (http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,2092-2271741,00.html) The Sunday Times July 16, 2006 My lovably ordinary brother Syd The bcrazy diamondb founder of Pink Floyd was no acid casualty or recluse. He loved art and DIY, his sister Rosemary tells his biographer Tim Willis in her first interview for 30 years When the death of 60-year-old Roger bSydb Barrett was announced on Tuesday, the media raised an astonishing last hurrah for the founder of Pink Floyd, the bcrazy diamondb who had shunned the public gaze for decades. The descriptions of him as a bmad geniusb, brecluseb and bacid casualtyb were far off the mark, however, according to his sister Rosemary. (http://ad.doubleclick.net/activity;src=1140115;met=1;v=1;pid=13646108;aid=31 999963;ko=0;cid=16393172;rid=16411067;rv=1;cs=b;eid1=1005;ecn1=1;etm1=0;_dc_r e dir=url?http://ad.doubleclick.net/click;h=v6|3424|f|25|*|a;31999963;1-0;0;136 4 6108;4307-300|250;16393172|16411067|1;u=12NAQgoKCtQAADJJKjEAAAAo;~sscs=?http: / /xads.zedo.com//ads2/c?a=182601;x=2333;g=0,0;c=162001302,162001302;i=0;n=162; s =631;s=631;g=172;m=0;w=0;u=12NAQgoKCtQAADJJKjEAAAAo;p=6;f=226429;h=201786;k=h t tp://www.alamo.com/index.do?action=hotDealsTemplate.do&msg=prepay&cid=fnbn) When I wrote Barrettbs biography, Madcap, four years ago I had off-the-record guidance from Rosemary b his junior by two years and closest friend. Last week, after his death, we spoke again and this time she went on the record b the first time she has given a press interview for more than 30 years. She described him as a loving man who bsimply couldnbt understandb the continued interest in his distant Pink Floyd years and was too absorbed in his own thoughts to spare time for fans. While her account is naturally fond, one should remember that she has spent much of her working life as a nurse and therefore sees no stigma in mental illness. As children, she and Barrett shared a bedroom and she recalls him leaping from his sheets to conduct an imaginary orchestra. He always had an extraordinary mind, bordering on the autistic or Aspergic. He had a rare talent to exploit ambiguities in language and also experienced synaesthesia b the ability to bsee sounds and hear coloursb b which was to be a huge influence on his music in his psychedelic phase. As a performing artist, signed to a label, he was under enormous strain. Not only did he find fame a two-edged sword, he was also deeply resistant to his record companybs commercial demands. He was run ragged. Between January 1966, when the Floyd turned professional, and January 1968, Barrett played 220 gigs around Britain b not to mention broadcasting and performances abroad b as well as writing, recording and co-producing two hit singles, most of the bandbs first album and part of the second. While his enthusiastic ingestion of any drugs available might have triggered some disturbing behaviour, such stress might tip anyone into nervous collapse. From 1981, when he returned from London to the suburbs of his native Cambridge, resumed the name Roger and set up home in his motherbs modest semi, he made faltering but significant progress. Rosemary is adamant that he neither suffered from mental illness nor received treatment for it at any time since they resumed regular contact 25 years ago. At first he did spend some time in a private bhome for lost soulsb b Greenwoods in Essex b but she says there was no formal therapy programme there. (b And besides, he didnbt mix, because he was very content to be basket weaving and making things.b) Later he agreed to some sessions with a psychiatrist at Fulbourn psychiatric hospital, Cambridge, but neither medication nor therapy was considered appropriate. He might have continued to find social interaction difficult b when I knocked on his door while writing my book he greeted me in his underpants and avoided conversation by saying that he was just looking after the house b but the idea that he bdidnbt recognise he was Sydb is nonsense. His troubled years had been so painful that even thinking about his former incarnation upset him, so he made a conscious effort to avoid that trap. Because he was so interested in his own thoughts, his sister said, he often forgot about the mundane chores essential to comfort. To keep an eye on him, she would visit or phone every day and sometimes accompany him on expeditions into town. Earlier this year an old friend saw the pair in Robert Sayles, the Cambridge department store, and went up to renew their acquaintance. bHello, Syd,b he said. bDo you remember me?b bYup,b replied Barrett. But Rosemary cut in with bRoger is only interested in buying some ties todayb, and led her brother away. Now she admits she might have been over-protective. Barrett lived in the semi with his mother until her death in 1991 and then remained there alone. bSo much of his life was boringly normal,b said Rosemary. bHe looked after himself and the house and garden. He went shopping for basics on his bike b always passing the time of day with the local shopkeepers b and he went to DIY stores like B&Q for wood, which he brought home to make things for the house and garden. bActually, he was a hopeless handyman, he was always laughing at his attempts, but he enjoyed it. Then there was his cooking. Like everyone who lives on their own, he sometimes found that boring but he became good at curries. bWhen Roger was working he liked to listen to jazz tapes. Thelonious Monk, Django Reinhardt, Charlie Parker and Miles Davis were his favourites b he always found something new in them b but apart from the early Rolling Stones, heb d lost interest in pop music a long time ago. bAs for a television or radio, he didnbt feel the need to own one because he didnbt want to waste any energy concentrating on it. Itbs not that he couldnbt apply his mind. He read very deeply about the history of art and actually wrote an unpublished book about it, which Ibm too sad to read at the moment. But he found his own mind so absorbing that he didnbt want to be distracted. bHe did have leisure interests. He took up photography, and sometimes we went to the seaside together. Quite often he took the train on his own to London to look at the major art collections b and he loved flowers. He made regular trips to the Botanic Gardens and to the dahlias at Anglesey Abbey, near Lode. But of course, his passion was his painting. bRoger worked in a variety of styles b though he admired no one after the impressionists b and you could say he came up with his own type of conceptual art. He would photograph a particular flower and paint a large canvas from the photograph. Then he would make a photographic record of the picture before destroying the canvas. In a way, that was very typical of his approach to life. Once something was over, it was over. He felt no need to revisit it. bThatbs why he avoided contact with journalists and fans. He simply couldnb t understand the interest in something that had happened so long ago and he wasnbt willing to interrupt his own musings for their sake. After a while he and I stopped discussing the times he was bothered. We both knew what we thought and we simply had nothing more to add. It became easiest to pretend those incidents never happened and just blank them out. bRoger may have been a bit selfish b or rather self-absorbed b but when people called him a recluse they were really only projecting their own disappointment. He knew what they wanted but he wasnbt willing to give it to them. bRoger was unique; they didnbt have the vocabulary to describe him and so they pigeonholed him. If only they had seen him with children. His nieces and nephews, the kids in the road b he would have them in stitches. He could talk at length and he played with words in a way that children instinctively appreciated, even if it sometimes threw adults.b He was quite a sharp dresser, too. bHe didnbt follow fashion b he just bought what he liked for himself b but he liked to look presentable. His clothes were always clean and pressed. In fact, if he had an obsession, it was with that.b Barrett suffered from stomach ulcers for 30 years b which he managed by drinking milk b and also developed diabetes. bBut he simply refused to admit it to himself. For days at a time he wouldnbt take his pills b which, being a nurse, could have worried me. But to be honest, it canbt have been very severe because he never showed any ill effects.b What he did show, she said, was love: bI gave it to him and he gave it to me. He was incredibly supportive when our mother died. And in the past week Ib ve been surprised to learn how popular he was with the local tradesmen. He was simply a very lovable person. bHe showed his personality in lots of different ways b which some outsiders found confusing b but underneath he was solid as a rock. It may have been a responsibility to look out for him, but it was never a burden.b Madcap by Tim Willis is published by Short Books, B#7.99 ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 16 Jul 2006 11:00:35 EDT From: HwyCDRrev@aol.com Subject: An eternal summer with Syd _http://observer.guardian.co.uk/review/story/0,,1821207,00.html_ (http://observer.guardian.co.uk/review/story/0,,1821207,00.html) An eternal summer with Syd Syd Barrett, troubled founder of rock legends Pink Floyd, died last week. David Gale remembers a sunny, serene young man long before he became a 'beast in the basement' acid casualty, while photographer Mick Rock recalls him at the height of his fame David Gale and Mick Rock Sunday July 16, 2006 _The Observer_ (http://www.observer.co.uk/) As children David Gale and Syd Barrett were near neighbours in Cambridge. They became friends when they were teenagers. Gale is now a playwright and freelance writer On a summer afternoon in 1965 Syd, Paul, Storm, Imo and myself were sitting in my parents' pleasant back garden in Cambridge. My parents had gone to Australia for six months and I had turned the dustless house into a hipster hostel. Syd and Paul lived round the corner and we used to smoke dope and talk about Jack Kerouac together. Syd, an art student, was involved with a band called Pink Floyd and their work was just starting to get noticed. He was a man without moods, delighted by everyday absurdities, at all times sunny, chuckling and serene. Earlier in the day Syd and Paul had each taken a heroic dose, as was the custom, of LSD, on a sugar-lump. Syd had giggled for a while then become contemplative. He had found, in my mother's kitchen, a plum, an orange and a matchbox. He was sitting cross-legged on the manicured lawn, gently cradling the items in his hands, studying them intently. From time to time he would smile at them in a friendly way. Syd studied his objects for four hours. Paul found this unwholesome. He strode over to Syd, seized the plum, the orange and the matchbox and jumped up and down on them, roaring jovially. Syd shouted with laughter and Paul began chasing him round the garden. They rushed into the house and up to the bathroom where Paul yanked the shower from its holder, turned it on to cold and proceeded to soak Syd. They played together like six-year-olds, wrestling, splashing, tearing their shirts off, throwing open the windows and bellowing merrily into the leafy repose of the afternoon. Like his song lyrics, Syd's humour was both subtle and silly. On one occasion we were driving around Cambridge in Storm's old Studebaker when someone observed that something or other was 'rancid'. Syd instantly shouted 'Well ran, Syd!' and the car swerved across Hills Road as we all cackled with delight. It was the way he said them. He was also very fond of a catchphrase. We used to go to a fearsome pub called The Criterion, patronised by Teds, beats, undergrads (largely in disguise), American servicemen and short but psychotic youths from the car breaker's yard. It was wise to go to the toilet in twos and it was there that we stood next to two quiffed Teds discussing their favoured sexual practices. With a connoisseur's gravity the larger one announced: 'Me, I like it in the head.' Although my gaze was firmly fixed on the cluster of white disinfectant cakes beneath me in the rancid trough, I couldn't help noticing that my companion was shaking helplessly. For months afterwards, when one might, for example, finish buying a round of drinks by asking 'What about you, Syd?' he would declaim, in a firm but affectless way: 'I like it in the head.' Sometimes when a conversation briefly faltered he would nod wisely and, a propos of absolutely nothing, say it again. His own laughter - he laughed at his own jokes with a certain grace - was disarming. Syd moved up to London and a few months later I joined him. We shared a cold-water flat just off the Tottenham Court Road. The room was about 12 by eight with a mattress running down either wall. At the end of the day Syd and I would lie back and discuss our experiences in the big city. We had devised a points system for evaluating celebrities spotted in the street. I recall my Petula Clark sighting being awarded five out of 10 while Syd's Hank B Marvin got a seven. On another occasion we went to London Zoo and were much taken with the spectacle of an orang-utan using a hairy forefinger to prise chunks of shit from its arse then convey them to its mouth. Syd dashed off a sketch of the incident and pinned it to the wall. It had great economy of line and considerable compositional elegance. All this lightness left him. As the hallucinogens and the downers ploughed through he became morose with his friends and a professional nightmare for the band. He wasn't helped by the romantic culture of madness that surrounded him - - a wilful misreading of the revolutionary but fashionable work of RD Laing persuaded many of those around him, myself included, that it was, like, uncool to interfere with Syd's trip because he was, like, on a journey. By 1967 Syd Barrett had taken so much acid that his beauty and his cheerfulness were extinguished. He stood on stage arhythmically strumming an untuned guitar, his hair bedraggled, black eyeliner running down his pallid cheeks, confronting his fans with a sullen thousand-yard stare. Not only Syd but the rest of the band were at their wits' end. They let him go and, after languishing mute and unapproachable in Earls Court for a while, he walked back home to Cambridge. With the help of his sister Rosemary he shunned the world in a small house for several decades. Before Syd left London I'd see him in the street now and again. He looked straight through me. There seemed to be no whites in his eyes. I never saw him again. It's tempting to read the episode in the garden as an early sign of an inwardness that would later consume him. This entails our subscription to the 'beast in the basement' analysis, wherein Syd's sunniness was merely a tissue draped across a psychic disaster waiting to happen. Another view is that the acid ripped up his brain for ever. There seem to be no reliable diagnostic tools available. We describe him as an 'acid casualty' and leave it at that. But then there's the photo. The iconic unshaven tortured portrait. Clearly Syd serves a purpose. He gives us, for 40 years, something very satisfying. The image of escape without death. He is alive but deathly still. Syd is undead. This is terribly appealing. It's appealing in smacked and doe-eyed Pete Doherty: it is possible to die without having to go. Best of both worlds. Syd was lovely. There are lovely photos of him. Grinning, gorgeous, giggling. That's how I will remember him. When he took acid he liked to laugh. By Mick Rock Syd was a friend. I'd known him since 1966. I was studying modern languages at Cambridge and he was studying at Camberwell Art College. Syd had been at the Cambridge Art College and he'd come down to the Christmas party to play with his band, Pink Floyd. A mutual friend introduced us after the show. We sat around smoking spliffs and we immediately had a good rapport. I found him very cheerful, very positive. I would carry on seeing him sporadically in the summer of '67. Pink Floyd were already the number one underground band and I would go and see the band and spend time with Syd and crash on his floor. I lived with him for three months in the summer of 1969, after he'd left the Floyd and when I'd just finished at Cambridge. The pictures were taken in autumn 1969 at the place he moved to in Earl's Court. He'd invited me to take his picture but it took a few goes before we managed it. I'd phone up and he'd be a bit vague and it wouldn't happen. But this time I came around and he was in the middle of painting the room. The painting was half-finished and his floor was covered with orange and blue stripes. His mattress was on the floor and there were cigarette butts embedded between the floorboards. What can I say? He was an artist. People always ask me what the record on the record player was but I can't remember. It was probably a jazz record. He was easy to photograph - he was very attractive and he looks like a doomed rocker. You can understand why the French loved him - I suppose he was similar to Rimbaud in some ways. I always thought Syd was like that U2 song: he was 'stuck in a moment he couldn't get out of'. Everyone knows about Syd taking acid, and I took acid with him once. When he took acid he liked to laugh, to listen to records, to read comic books. Of course, there was the tortured artist thing but he was a lot more straightforward than some people imagine. Whenever I spent time with him - often one on one - it was very easy to be with him. We had an easy relationship. I was inspired by him as a subject and he was a really sweet guy. The last time I saw him was 1974. He would just turn up every six months or so at my house and we would have a cup of tea, smoke a joint and listen to a record. I think he felt comfortable with me, that I understood him. I don't know whether I did or not, but the Syd I understood wasn't about the madness. I know he liked my photos of him. We had a certain empathy. 7 Mick Rock spoke to Ally Carnwath ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 16 Jul 2006 08:15:19 -0700 (PDT) From: Jeff Dwarf Subject: Re: My lovably ordinary brother Syd HwyCDRrev@aol.com wrote: > http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,2092-2271741,00.html This is obviously an amateur diagnosis from snippets of articles -- especiall6y this one, but others as well -- but the picture of Roger Barrett seems to be more than of someone with Asberger's than a schizophrenic, not that I necessarily know what I'm talking about.... "A severed foot is the ultimate stocking stuffer." -- Mitch Hedberg "For millions of years, mankind lived just like the animals. Then something happened which unleashed the power of our imagination. We learned to talk. And we learned to listen. Speech has allowed the communication of ideas, enabling human beings to work together. To build the impossible. Mankind's greatest achievements have come about by talking. And it's greatest failures by NOT talking. It doesn't have to be like this! Our greatest hopes could become reality in the future. With the technology at our disposal, the possibilities are unbounded. All we need to do is make sure we keep talking. -- Stephen W. Hawking . Tired of spam? Yahoo! Mail has the best spam protection around http://mail.yahoo.com ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 16 Jul 2006 08:22:09 -0700 (PDT) From: bayard Subject: Syd tribute on canadian radio tonight http://www.brain-damage.co.uk/news/0607151.html If you read the article (above), you'll learn that there will be a Syd Barrett tribute TONIGHT on a Canadian radio station, but you have to register as a VIP, etc. Well... It took some time, but I hacked the url. It is - http://38.99.208.186/chez (Remember that it's a live stream, so there's no defined file name, etc.) I have to work tonight, but I'll try to set my computer to record the show while I'm gone. Bayard & I and Ottawa (where the radio station is located) are all in the same time zone - so, Bayard, the show will start at 7pm your time, as indicated in the BD article. Paul - I believe that you are 5 hours ahead... That would make it midnight your time. If you use the above url, you won't need any type of membership or subscription, etc. Just plug into the stream & have a lovely evening! Scott PS: Please share this with whomever, wherever. ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 16 Jul 2006 11:08:55 -0400 From: "Stewart C. Russell" Subject: Re: My lovably ordinary brother Syd HwyCDRrev@aol.com wrote: > > (http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,2092-2271741,00.html) This is the most heartening thing I've read about RKB. He sounded content. Stewart ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 16 Jul 2006 11:01:40 -0700 From: Eb Subject: Re: robYn on sYd Brian Nupp wrote: >> Astronomy Domine clip from 1967: >> >> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJN64ALqqew >> >> +brian in New Orleans > > Good clip. I saw that for the 1st time just a few years back. It is > obvious the live/stage influence Syd had on Robyn. Those arm > movements, those facial expressions- particularly in this video! Weerd. I've seen this video several times before, but never knew it was filmed the day my sister was born. I saw one of the most miserable films I've ever seen, yesterday: "Love, Liza." Whew. If a film is about someone who steadily exhausts the patience of everyone around him and he exhausts my patience too, does this mean the film was successful? I guess so.... Eb (the high priest of patience-exhausting) ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 16 Jul 2006 11:20:08 -0700 From: Eb Subject: Re: Eb, really Jill Brand wrote: > Young Melanie (not so young anymore at 14) just put on Lola to see > if there could be any mistaking. She thinks not. Yes...well, Melanie and I have never really seen eye-to-eye on anything. Eb ------------------------------ End of fegmaniax-digest V15 #165 ********************************