What Happened When the Sex Pistols Threw a Christmas Party

A new book showcases a collection of photos that captures the band’s last concert in England—they were in their pomp, on their mission, and fully charged.

The Sex Pistols, avatars of sociopathy, threw an afternoon Christmas party for the families of firefighters on strike. What could be nicer?Kevin Cummins

By the end of 1977 the Sex Pistols were so drenched in notoriety that, as a band, they could barely function. Punk rock, originally an American import, had activated the imagination of Great Britain at a hysterical, medieval level, and the Pistols—swearing on live TV, getting to Number 1 with the banned single “God Save The Queen” (She ain’t no human being!)—were overnight bogeymen. Pale and twisted, neurally disenfranchised but making a huge, thick, derisive, airwave-jamming noise, they seemed to have limped out of the psychic shadows and seized power. The frontman Johnny Rotten would hang off the mic stand like a licentious scarecrow; the new bassist Sid Vicious, his long limbs clanging, was an icon continually in the process of dismantling itself—a human Jean Tinguely sculpture. Their manager Malcolm McLaren, meanwhile, had an agenda for uproar and no interest whatsoever in the well-being of his charges; for over a year his provocations and imbroglios had kept the band on the front pages of a gratefully disgusted tabloid press.

And they had reaped the whirlwind: In June, in two separate attacks, Rotten was slashed with a razor and the drummer Paul Cook was beaten with an iron bar. Now, in the depths of winter, a projected U.K. tour had collapsed as the burghers of one municipality after another—local councilmen and members of Parliament—rose up with quivering jowls to denounce, reject, and foreclose these leering scapegoats. Nowhere to play.

Except Huddersfield. On Christmas Day. At a venue called Ivanhoe’s, in a market town in West Yorkshire, the Sex Pistols would play a benefit show for the Fire Brigades Union, which had recently called its members out on strike in pursuit of a 30 percent wage increase. This was a very McLaren-esque piece of business: The Sex Pistols, avatars of sociopathy, would throw an afternoon Christmas party for the families of striking firefighters. Gifts, games, a cake, a performance, t-shirts for the children. What could be nicer? What could be worthier? Then they would play a second set for their fans.

The first show, the one for the kids, was extraordinary enough. Thank God we have the footage. Pre-teens with soft 1970s hair bounce and jive unselfconsciously, and with even a strange solemnity, as the band rips in gusts of joy through “God Save The Queen” and “Anarchy in the U.K.” No future for YEEEEEW! “Bodies”—She was a girl from Birming-HAM-uh / She’d just had an a-BOR-tion-ah!—acquires the pure and vicious resonance of a playground chant. The kids take the mic, sing along to the chorus: Mum-my! I’m not an animal! Johnny Rotten mashes his face into the Christmas cake during “Pretty Vacant.” The kids wave flags. Credit here the unscrupulous McLaren and his nose for the carnivalesque. An event this wholesomely riotous, this innocently lawless and punk-rock-paradoxical, if it happened today … well, it wouldn’t happen. It would be held in an art gallery.

But it’s the second set, for the grown-ups, that concerns us here. Sex Pistols: The End Is Near 25.12.77 collects the in-show shots of the photographer Kevin Cummins, who was covering the concert for New Musical Express. That afternoon, at his parents’ house, Cummins had committed small-scale anarchy by getting up and leaving in the middle of Christmas lunch. This meant that he was also skipping the Queen’s televised speech, traditionally watched with boozy fealty by every single person in the country. “My father didn’t speak to me for at least three weeks,” he writes in his introduction.

No one, not even the ferally alert McLaren, knew it at the time, but this was the last show the Sex Pistols would play in England. Days after the Hudderfield show they would leave for a short, fiasco-filled tour of the U.S., a jaunt across the un-punk-rock South (Atlanta, Memphis, San Antonio, Baton Rouge) that was essentially an extended act of incitement. The band, as an entity, would not survive it. In less than three weeks, at San Francisco’s Winterland Ballroom, the Sex Pistols would explode, fall to bits, end. “Oh bollocks. Why should I carry on?” asked Rotten, pertinently, in the middle of a half-hearted assault on the Stooges’ “No Fun.” All of which adds a film of wistful irony to the power of Cummins’s photographs from Ivanhoe’s, because here are the Pistols in their pomp, on their mission, fully charged.

The images, from this distance, have an almost fairytale familiarity. Rotten, pint in hand, his hair still matted with cake icing, grins and writhes Uriah Heep-ishly, twisting his body to accommodate the demonic projections of the English unconscious. Steve Jones is slouched red-eyed over his guitar, raffishly infusing his glam rock mega-chords with Chuck Berry momentum and heavy metal crunch. Sid Vicious, soon to be infamous, soon to be dead, bass slung super-low, looks like a drawing from the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series: His small scowling features are etched blackly onto an empty white face. He’s there and he’s not there, an accident that might have already happened. (McLaren would later characterize Sid’s aura as a “halo of anarchy.”) The current of the performance never seems to slacken. Cummins’s lens catches the band in no instants of shapelessness or non-Sex-Pistols-ness; their art possesses them at all times. Cook, the band’s thunderous timekeeper, is hardly represented, but maybe that’s appropriate; the drummer should be a kind of nonentity. (What a superbly physical drummer he was, though, Paul Cook. His whole kit would quake like the ribcage of some enormous, panting animal).

Towards the end of the show, the end of the reel, Rotten puts on a beret. It suits him, giving him a ghoulish sort of Parisian presence—he looks arty, he looks Left Bank. And there was this weird French strain to the Sex Pistols’ enterprise. McLaren was, or thought he was, or said he was, a devout reader of Guy Debord: all of his various art-acts were somewhere between pop mania and Situationist disruption-of-the-spectacle. But the Pistols were also a rock ‘n’ roll band, a very good one. Left to themselves, who knows what they might have achieved?

The die, however, were cast. The great music writer Paul Morley, in the foreword of The End Is Near that appears to have taken him about 10 minutes to write (although 10 minutes of Paul Morley is worth three weeks of [insert name of writer]), makes the point that by late 1977 the Sex Pistols had already become “as much a part of British history as Churchill, the Royal Mail post boxes, Robin Hood, Sherlock Holmes, Shakespeare.” They had become more than a band, less than a band—something else. So look upon these images from Huddersfield, and remember them this way: at the depth of ignominy, at the height of glory, making their music.

 

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Tales of Rock – What Happened When the Sex Pistols Threw a Christmas Party

A new book showcases a collection of photos that captures the band’s last concert in England—they were in their pomp, on their mission, and fully charged.

The Sex Pistols, avatars of sociopathy, threw an afternoon Christmas party for the families of firefighters on strike. What could be nicer?

By the end of 1977 the Sex Pistols were so drenched in notoriety that, as a band, they could barely function. Punk rock, originally an American import, had activated the imagination of Great Britain at a hysterical, medieval level, and the Pistols—swearing on live TV, getting to Number 1 with the banned single “God Save The Queen” (She ain’t no human being!)—were overnight bogeymen. Pale and twisted, neurally disenfranchised but making a huge, thick, derisive, airwave-jamming noise, they seemed to have limped out of the psychic shadows and seized power. The frontman Johnny Rotten would hang off the mic stand like a licentious scarecrow; the new bassist Sid Vicious, his long limbs clanging, was an icon continually in the process of dismantling itself—a human Jean Tinguely sculpture. Their manager Malcolm McLaren, meanwhile, had an agenda for uproar and no interest whatsoever in the well-being of his charges; for over a year, his provocations and imbroglios had kept the band on the front pages of a gratefully disgusted tabloid press.

And they had reaped the whirlwind: In June, in two separate attacks, Rotten was slashed with a razor and the drummer Paul Cook was beaten with an iron bar. Now, in the depths of winter, a projected U.K. tour had collapsed as the burghers of one municipality after another—local councilmen and members of Parliament—rose up with quivering jowls to denounce, reject, and foreclose these leering scapegoats. Nowhere to play.

Except for Huddersfield. On Christmas Day. At a venue called Ivanhoe’s, in a market town in West Yorkshire, the Sex Pistols would play a benefit show for the Fire Brigades Union, which had recently called its members out on strike in pursuit of a 30 percent wage increase. This was a very McLaren-esque piece of business: The Sex Pistols, avatars of sociopathy, would throw an afternoon Christmas party for the families of striking firefighters. Gifts, games, a cake, a performance, t-shirts for the children. What could be nicer? What could be worthier? Then they would play a second set for their fans.

The first show, the one for the kids, was extraordinary enough. Thank God we have the footage. Pre-teens with soft 1970s hair bounce and jive unselfconsciously, and with even a strange solemnity, as the band rips in gusts of joy through “God Save The Queen” and “Anarchy in the U.K.” No future for YEEEEEW! “Bodies”—She was a girl from Birming-HAM-uh / She’d just had an a-BOR-tion-ah!—acquires the pure and vicious resonance of a playground chant. The kids take the mic, sing along to the chorus: Mum-my! I’m not an animal! Johnny Rotten mashes his face into the Christmas cake during “Pretty Vacant.” The kids wave flags. Credit here the unscrupulous McLaren and his nose for the carnivalesque. An event this wholesomely riotous, this innocently lawless and punk-rock-paradoxical, if it happened today … well, it wouldn’t happen. It would be held in an art gallery.

But it’s the second set, for the grown-ups, that concerns us here. Sex Pistols: The End Is Near 25.12.77 collects the in-show shots of the photographer Kevin Cummins, who was covering the concert for New Musical Express. That afternoon, at his parents’ house, Cummins had committed small-scale anarchy by getting up and leaving in the middle of Christmas lunch. This meant that he was also skipping the Queen’s televised speech, traditionally watched with boozy fealty by every single person in the country. “My father didn’t speak to me for at least three weeks,” he writes in his introduction.

 

No one, not even the ferally alert McLaren, knew it at the time, but this was the last show the Sex Pistols would play in England. Days after the Huddersfield show they would leave for a short, fiasco-filled tour of the U.S., a jaunt across the un-punk-rock South (Atlanta, Memphis, San Antonio, Baton Rouge) that was essentially an extended act of incitement. The band, as an entity, would not survive it. In less than three weeks, at San Francisco’s Winterland Ballroom, the Sex Pistols would explode, fall to bits, end. “Oh bollocks. Why should I carry on?” asked Rotten, pertinently, in the middle of a half-hearted assault on the Stooges’ “No Fun.” All of which adds a film of wistful irony to the power of Cummins’s photographs from Ivanhoe’s, because here are the Pistols in their pomp, on their mission, fully charged.

The images, from this distance, have an almost fairytale familiarity. Rotten, pint in hand, his hair still matted with cake icing, grins and writhes Uriah Heep-ishly, twisting his body to accommodate the demonic projections of the English unconscious. Steve Jones is slouched red-eyed over his guitar, raffishly infusing his glam rock mega-chords with Chuck Berry’s momentum and heavy metal crunch. Sid Vicious, soon to be infamous, soon to be dead, bass slung super-low, looks like a drawing from the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series: His small scowling features are etched blackly onto an empty white face. He’s there and he’s not there, an accident that might have already happened. (McLaren would later characterize Sid’s aura as a “halo of anarchy.”) The current of the performance never seems to slacken. Cummins’s lens catches the band in no instants of shapelessness or non-Sex-Pistols-ness; their art possesses them at all times. Cook, the band’s thunderous timekeeper, is hardly represented, but maybe that’s appropriate; the drummer should be a kind of nonentity. (What a superbly physical drummer he was, though, Paul Cook. His whole kit would quake like the ribcage of some enormous, panting animal).

Towards the end of the show, the end of the reel, Rotten puts on a beret. It suits him, giving him a ghoulish sort of Parisian presence—he looks arty, he looks Left Bank. And there was this weird French strain to the Sex Pistols’ enterprise. McLaren was, or thought he was, or said he was, a devout reader of Guy Debord: all of his various art-acts were somewhere between pop mania and Situationist disruption-of-the-spectacle. But the Pistols were also a rock ‘n’ roll band, a very good one. Left to themselves, who knows what they might have achieved?

The die, however, was cast. The great music writer Paul Morley, in the foreword of The End Is Near that appears to have taken him about 10 minutes to write (although 10 minutes of Paul Morley is worth three weeks of [insert name of the writer]), makes the point that by late 1977 the Sex Pistols had already become “as much a part of British history as Churchill, the Royal Mail post boxes, Robin Hood, Sherlock Holmes, Shakespeare.” They had become more than a band, less than a band—something else. So look upon these images from Huddersfield, and remember them this way: at the depth of ignominy, at the height of glory, making their music.

Wanna be a better guitarist? Click this link to learn the secret!

https://beginnerguitarhq.com/guitar-exercises/

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

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5 Sad Signs You’re Not Giving Your Partner What They Need (& How to Give It to Them)

Meet their needs and create a happier and healthier relationship.

Relationships are never easy. What men want and what women want in healthy relationships often differ and sometimes, they’re a mystery to their partner. Furthermore, the relationship advice available is not one size fits all.

Being in a relationship with a man is not easy because hey may have a hard time opening up — that’s just not what they do. Meanwhile, being in a relationship with a woman may be difficult because she can be very emotional and often wants to talk through everything.

And yet, your spouse is probably constantly telling you — either openly or subtly — that you aren’t meeting their needs.

You’re tearing your hair out because you think you are doing everything you can to meet your partner’s needs, so what’s wrong? Where’s the mismatch?

In order to meet your partner’s needs, you need to understand what’s going on with them and improve your communication skills (both of you). The ultimate goal is for them to no longer say to you in either subtle or not ways that you aren’t meeting their needs.

Here are 5 signs you are not meeting your partner’s needs in your relationship (and relationship advice on how to do it.)

1. You don’t understand their expectations

And how on earth can you? They most likely haven’t expressed these openly to you, not unless they are some sort of super-partner. They have expectations, you know — ones they aren’t expressing yet expecting you to meet.

Exactly what do men want from women? What do women want from men? That’s what’s so frustrating about this.

How can you possibly meet their expectations if they don’t speak them out loud? Bottom line is: you can’t. So, you give up trying.

Solution: Talk to them about their expectations.

That’s right, have that awkward conversation and ask them what expectations they have. Get them to openly speak them out loud. At least, then, you have an idea of what you aren’t doing to meet their needs.

Such a simple thing really and yet we never think about having such a pointed discussion.

Oh, and while you are at it, it’s probably worth speaking your expectations aloud too. That way, you can both discuss this whole relationship thing and where there is a mismatch in expectations and them not being met.

It is likely to clear up a whole lot of stuff that may have been niggling in your relationship, up until now.

2. You focus on what you need and not what they need

Okay, I can hear you yelling at me from here: “Why should I focus on them and not me?”

Well, sometimes it’s valuable to focus on someone else, for a change.

“But what about me?!”

Well, there’s a difference between focus and focus.

You might think you are focusing on someone when you are sitting at the dinner table with them but you are also thinking about work tomorrow or the bills that need to be paid or how the dog needs to be taken for a walk. That’s not focusing.

Focusing is about giving your partner 100 percent of your undivided attention. Looking at them and noticing if they look tired or stressed or happy or distracted. You’re not really engaging with them.

Solution: Be more open to understanding what they need.

If you give your partner your undivided attention and you ask them what they need you might find out that it is the exact opposite of what you are thinking or doing.

They may just surprise you and ask for a hug. Or a cup of coffee. Or some quiet time alone. In order to fully understand, from their perspective what they need, you have to be open to finding out.

Don’t assume that you know. Stop assuming!

Partners are a lot like small children in that, if you give them your undivided attention, focused attention, then they will be happy with that and not want more from you…for a little while at least.

3. You expect them to initiate sex

How many times have you been frustrated with them for not being the one to initiate sex? You think it’s their responsibility to do that. Why?

Why do they need to be the one to initiate it?

They have needs too. Maybe with their focus on work and their responsibilities of bringing in the financial income for your couple, life seems too full to even think about this need they have very often. And, yet, it’s still there.

Just like your need is there, and you get frustrated when you are wanting sex and they don’t initiate it, what about considering them?

Solution: Have an open and honest conversation about sexual needs.

Being in a partnership is all about give and take, remember. If sex is something you want, then don’t wait for them to initiate it.

What about opening the conversation or begin flirting and see where it takes you.

Your partner might make it clear that it’s not what they need, right now. It’s a great time to talk about your sex life and whether it’s working for you or not. Find out what their needs are, and discuss yours too, openly.

That way, you are likely to set up a more two-way situation in which you both get your sexual needs met, in the way that works best for each of you.

Talk, talk, talk about each of your needs and find a mutual play space.

4. You think you know what they need or want

If you think you know what they need and that’s the premise that you are using to do things for them, you’re in trouble. No wonder you are having relationship troubles.

Unless you’re some sort of psychic mind reader, you’re barking up the wrong tree. You can’t possibly know what their needs or wants for that matter are.

It’s an impossibility. If you’re like me, you will notice that your own needs and wants change depending on the day, moment, and whatever else is happening in life. So, how can you think you know what they are needing and wanting without asking them? You can’t!

Solution: Ask them.

It’s pretty simple, really. Just ask them. Go and have a conversation about their needs. Find out what they are and be open to knowing that they are likely to change, just like yours do.

Don’t just have one conversation, have an ongoing conversation about needs. This sort of conversation and interaction is going to create a strong bond between you and ultimately make your life so much easier.

And don’t just think this is a one-way thing. Again, it’s about sharing openly your needs too because this is not about just meeting their needs at the expense of yours.

The best outcome is for you to talk and work out how to meet both of your needs.

5. You assume you know what they’re thinking

No matter how close you are to your partner, there is no way you can be sure when you assume what they’re thinking. You’re correct.

How many times have you thought you knew what someone was thinking, about you, for example, only to ask them and have them tell you they were thinking of something completely different? It’s a common problem we have.

We tend to assume the worst too. So, you might think that you know what they are needing and that you aren’t able to do it or deliver it. You’re tying yourself in a knot when you don’t need to.

Solution: Check with them.

Bottom line: don’t assume! Ask. Your partner is a human being, a person, an individual with individual thoughts, needs and wants. Go and ask them, openly, what they are thinking about your relationship, what you’re doing, how you’re approaching things, and be open to the feedback.

Turn off the assumptions. Turn off the thinking that you know already what they are thinking.

Catch yourself when you assume and make it the prompt to have the conversation to openly ask what they are needing or wanting.

The more open conversations you have the more honest, trusting, and loving your relationship will be — both with yourself and them. If you are honest, they will be too.

We all have needs. We all have the right to express those needs. And as a partner we can choose to meet the need or not, either is okay.

Be the person in the partnership who is going to turn around where you are currently by realizing these five signs and working on changing them to the more positive approach to getting yours and their needs met.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

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Hot Girl On Tinder Might Be A Hooker

Escort reveals she uses the dating app to find prospective clients

LIKE millions of single women, Lilly Chatte flicks through the Tinder dating
app on her phone hoping to find men in her area.

But she is not looking for a new boyfriend, she’s on the hunt for customers.
Single men willing to pay her for sex.

The university student, 22, is one of a growing number of prostitutes to use
Tinder to find clients and claims to have made £10,000 through the app in
the five months she’s been on the game.

Lilly — not her real name — says: “Men will always pay for sex. All the men I’ve met on Tinder solely want to meet for sex, they don’t want to date.

“I charge $60 for 15 minutes, $80 for 30 minutes, and $100 for an hour. I’m making so much money now I work out of a hotel.

“On a busy day, I entertain up to ten men within 24 hours, but usually just
three or four.”

Tinder has changed the face of online dating in the past few years and now
boasts more than 450 million profiles worldwide.

The app offers users the chance to meet fellow singles living nearby and
analyzes their Facebook profiles to find potential matches.

Those using the app are then presented with candidates and swipe right on
their smartphone screen to approve and left to reject.

If both parties approve of one another, they are then able to chat and arrange a date.

But Lilly says many of the men she meets are not looking for a meal out or a
trip to the cinema — with 50 percent of her matches becoming paying clients.

She adds: “I signed up to an adult website and then heard about Tinder through another escort. I didn’t realize it attracted guys who were willing to pay for dates.

“Studying isn’t cheap so I decided to take up escorting part-time as a quick
and easy way to subsidize my course.

“I make it clear that I am an escort very quickly when communicating with men on Tinder and very few have been shocked enough to stop contact.

“Many say that they have never paid for sex before, but when I tell them my
prices they are often still interested.”

Lilly’s Tinder profile strapline describes her as a “nice friendly girl who is
looking for some fun”. It adds: “If you want to spend hot time together, you
found the right person.”

She says: “I figured somewhere within my description of myself guys would
realize I was willing to provide services, as opposed to dating for free.

“Sure enough, within just a few minutes of setting up my profile, I had guys
asking whether I’d be willing to meet up.

“I didn’t mess around, I just told them straight that I didn’t date for free
and the next day I had my first paying client.

“If the guy wants something kinky, I charge more. I get over $1,000 for
overnight bookings and up to $3,000 for weekends away.

“If someone wants me to go to their house or hotel, it’s $130.”

One bonus of using Tinder, Lilly says, is that because it grabs information
from Facebook, the app will tell her if she shares any mutual friends with a
potential client – helping to avoid awkward situations.

She explains: “Most guys just want some no strings adult fun and book me for an hour or two.

“Tinder is really handy for this because it sources singles who live near you,
so guys don’t have to travel far to come and meet me for a short period of
time. When I book in clients through the adult site they’re normally married
and I feel really bad for their wives.

“That’s not nice, so I try to stick to Tinder.”

But Lilly, from Gatwick, West Sussex, admits that using the app to find
punters have brought some odd people into her bed.

She adds: “One guy arrived with a knife and a bin bag and asked if he could
cut me up and put my body parts in the bag.

“Thankfully he left quietly when I insisted he made a swift exit.

“Some guys arrive with drugs on them, in which case I politely ask them to
leave immediately.

“Another client complained he hadn’t had his full hour’s worth and threatened to phone his mum. I just had to laugh.” Despite those encounters, Lilly says she has met some “really great guys” using Tinder, but she insists that she is not yet ready to find herself a steady relationship.

She says: “If I were to settle down and meet a proper boyfriend on a dating
site I’d get bored within a few weeks and I’d want to start playing the
field and experimenting again.

“The guys that come to see me know exactly what they’re getting and leave
satisfied, that’s more than most men can say after a Tinder date.”

Tinder did not respond to our requests for comment.

‘I get what I want and no dates’

STUDENT Mark, 22, has been a prolific Tinder user since splitting with his
last girlfriend earlier this year — and has also hooked up with more than
one prostitute, he met through the app.

He says: “I’ve not been interested in relationships since my last girlfriend
dumped me. I did try some dating sites, but I had no success.

“One of my best pals told me about Tinder and I found it much more useful
right from the start. It was light-hearted, welcoming, and also very
addictive. I found myself browsing all night when I first joined.

“I’ve met up with a few girls from Tinder so far, but the first experience was
a wee bit awkward as the girl I’d been chatting to was an escort.

“When I first met her online she was very friendly and fun-loving, and there was a real sexual spark between us.

“We told each other all about ourselves, exchanged numbers, and then she
mentioned that she was an escort. Just like that.

“At first I was so gutted, but on the other hand, I had wanted to try new
things. That was part of the reason I joined the site in the first place.

“I didn’t want to visit prostitutes, so meeting someone I knew more about but still strictly for ‘business’ was a perfect option for me — and it was one
of the most monumental sexual experiences, I’ve ever had.

I enjoyed my time with her so much I have continued to see her whenever I can, normally once a month. We keep in touch on a weekly basis and she sends me photos from her holidays.

“There is another escort I met on Tinder who I see every so often. But I
wouldn’t want to visit more than two girls at any one time because even
though I’m paying for their services, I do feel you develop a relationship.

“I’d say I’ve spent almost $2,000 on hookers so far, but I don’t mind as I
know I’ll get what I want and there are no boring dates or awkward silences.”

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

You can check out my books here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

Exactly What Happens When You Leave A Toxic Relationship

A toxic relationship really brings you down.

You might find it hard to believe that unhealthy relationships can lead to anything good. The truth is that the relationship problems you encounter when you’re with a toxic person might make you feel helpless at the moment. But once you leave a toxic relationship, you will reap the benefits.

Here are eight surprising upsides of leaving your toxic relationship.

1. You rediscover your passions.

Toxic relationships kill your enthusiasm.

When you’re in a draining relationship, you only focus on fixing what is actually hopeless, instead of pursuing what you want.

When you finally breakthrough, you rediscover your favorite pastimes and passion projects.

This, in turn, provides an emotional outlet and helps you move on from your relationship more quickly.

2. You reconnect with family and friends who really love you.

Unhealthy relationships cause us to disconnect from others.

But when your relationship ends, you run to family and friends and realize that they were waiting for you.

They’ve been with you all along, so don’t take them for granted.

3. You appreciate the little things even more.

Whether you’re celebrating a treat from a colleague or a text message from your best friend, you find yourself cherishing every moment of the day.

After you’ve spent so much time suffering and in pain, you now know what true gratitude means.

4. You regain your mental and physical health.

Your toxic relationship most likely affected your health.

So, as your post-relationship self-care, you focus on your mental, physical, and spiritual health.

You find yourself fighting to regain the wellness that your ex deprived you of.

Maybe you head to the gym and eat more healthily.

Perhaps you simply put yourself first and enjoy relaxing again.

Regardless, you find that as you focus on your health and wellness, you start to feel whole again.

5. You enjoy your newfound independence.

You once saw the single life as lonely, but now you view it as an independent.

What’s more, you see your newfound independence as a sign of bravery, wholeness, strength, and wisdom.

You revel in it because you no longer attach your happiness to someone else.

You’re proud to be self-sufficient because it takes a lot to master the art of freeing yourself from others.

6. You gain the ability to empathize with people who are hurting.

Now that you understand heartache firsthand, you sincerely care about the pain of others.

You become more sensitive and empathetic.

You are not afraid to share your story in order to give people hope.

7. You thrive more fruitfully in your career.

You realize that investing your energy in your work provides more rewards than any other person can.

A fulfilling career gives you the home and the life you want and it doesn’t require that you depend on anyone else.

Therefore, you prioritize your career aspirations over any potential love interests.

8. You reinvent yourself.

You try out new things because you can.

Maybe you cut your hair, try higher stilettos, travel more often, cook complicated dishes, or enjoy risky adventures.

As you change, you discover that reinventing yourself is the best way to heal.

Instead of giving up on yourself, you reinvent yourself and find that better things lie ahead.

If you’re coming out of a toxic relationship and life feels overwhelming, never fear.

Life may be difficult now, but the benefits you’ll take from your healing process will be worth the struggle.

 

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Back The Tracks – Part 4 – Railroad Detective

One afternoon I was with my friend Paul, and we were walking around the woods and the train tracks. Whenever a freight train went past we’d always throw stones at the boxcars just to see if we could hit them and watch them bounce off. That one boxcar is 30 tons. That’s 60,000 pounds. A rock hitting that is like a fly bouncing off a car door. I’ve touched a boxcar close up. It feels like a stone wall.

We had entered the tracks by way of Passmore street. Passmore was a little street that had a steep incline that ended in a roundabout at the bottom. Beyond the end of the street was a stone wall. You could climb over the wall to the right next to where a fence began. Once over the wall, you could see the railroad tracks. But if you looked to your left there was an embankment that led down to some sort of water drainage area. The water was shallow and full of rocks. There was a stone tunnel that went under the tracks and led off to a large, round stone pit. You’d see the occasional rat running around back there in the rocks. Beyond that was the woods that led through to Tookany Creek.

After doing a little bit of research, I found out that the word “Tookany” is actually derived from “Tacony,” which is derived from the term “Towacawonick,” which means “uninhabited place” or “woods” in the language of the Lenni Lenape American Indians (Unami Language) The place we all played was once inhabited by people that had been here for a long time before our ancestors ever arrived here. I always wondered what those kids were like.

Think of this sort of tunnel but with shallow water running through it.

None of us knew why it was there. I’m assuming that maybe because Passmore street ended in a steep hill, it was once used for drainage and sewage removal many years ago.

There were all sorts of graffiti on the walls and bits of detritus everywhere. My all-time favorite bit of graffiti sprayed on that wall was the following joke:

“Dick Hertz was here.”

“Who’s Dick Hertz?”

“Mine does.”

I’d seen graffiti before but I always liked that someone took the time to write something funny that would give boys a chuckle whenever they came through the area.

I remember one night, Buddy Drew, (I’m pretty sure he lived on Passmore street) came running up to us and told us to come and see something wonderful happening on his street. My friend Michael and I walked over there in the rain. Parked on the corner of Passmore and Newtown Avenue was a long black limousine. I looked in through the tinted window and could see an 8 track tape of Led Zeppelin’s Physical Graffiti in the player. We peeked through the bushes of the house where Buddy told us the magic was happening. I could see the celebrity through the window chatting with his cousin, (or, sister?)Miss Tallerico.

It was Steven Tyler.

Anyway… back to the story.

So we’re throwing rocks and just doing the things boys do. But one of the unspoken rules was that no one I knew would ever throw a rock at a passenger train. We just didn’t do it for obvious reasons.

I remember my mother telling me once she was sitting on the train one day headed into the city when she suddenly heard a loud bang, and when she looked down her whole lap was covered in tiny bits of broken glass. Passenger train windows are like automobile windows in that respect. They don’t shatter creating big pieces because they’re a piece of transparent tough flexible plastic inside the window. So if it breaks it busts into little nonlethal bits and the window technically doesn’t break a hole in it. Some idiot obviously threw a rock and that was the outcome. So stone-throwing at passenger trains was a big no-no in my neighborhood. It just wasn’t a cool thing to do because somebody could get hurt.

So, later we returned back to the treehouse at the end of the lot near my house. We just sat there doing our thing. Paul had to go home so he ended up climbing down and headed out.

A little while later I decided it was time to go home a well. So I started walking up the lot toward Hasbrook Avenue. When this black car slowly pulled up out of Newtown avenue and into the lot, blocking my path. A man got out and wasn’t wearing a uniform or anything.

I had heard of railroad detectives through local schoolboy lore. But I didn’t think they were real. Well, apparently they were and still are. But there was a part of me that thought this guy might be a pervert that molests kids. We knew about the whole stranger danger thing even back then. I also wondered why this guy showed up now. It had been hours later, and I was now alone.

He started asking about me and my friend throwing rocks at trains. So he must have seen us when we were all the way down by Passmore street. I was pretty nervous about the whole situation and explained that we would never throw rocks at passenger trains and were just doing a little target practice. I don’t know if this guy was just doing his job, or being a dick, or indeed a pervert.

But he pulls out this pad and pen and starts asking me questions. He asked my name and my address and my phone number and a bunch of other standard questions, but I remember him asking me other stuff like did I go to church and stuff of that source. That’s what seemed weird about the whole thing.

He ended up letting me go and didn’t do anything to me, but I was just scared that he’d call or come around my house and tell my parents. I just didn’t need one more thing for my dad to knock me around.

But that memory always stuck with me, and I never heard of it happening to any other boys I knew at the time. Just a weird day in the life of a kid.

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

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People Only Fall In Love 3 Times, Each For A Unique Reason

Moreover, it is believed that from each of these relationships we learn important lessons.

What could the lessons/reasons behind all three be?

The First Love: The One that Looks Right

“The first stab of love is like a sunset, a blaze of color — oranges, pearly pinks, vibrant purples…”  – Anna Godbersen

Our first love often times finds us when we are young. Of course, for some that may be in their high school days, and for others that may happen a bit later on in life. Therefore, it could be portrayed as ‘idealistic love’. Being the first time, we tend to believe it is the one and only love in store for us. Although it may not feel ‘right’ sometimes or it may become difficult, we are inclined to stick with it and try our best to make it work. The reason behind this is that we assume this is what love is ‘meant’ to be.

On the other hand, the first time we fall in love may be unrequited. Nevertheless, it still is the ‘one that looks right’, making us go out of our way to make it work, just in a different sense than what is mentioned above. Whichever one happens, it is the love for us that we aspire to hold on to, ignoring the circumstances that it may very well not be the ‘one that lasts forever’, regardless of how beautiful it is or we feel it is.

Lesson: You must not know what you want/need and be able to differentiate between what is right and what is wrong for you.

Falling in love for the second time: The Hard Love

“You realize that tough love is also tough on the lover.” – Julian Barnes, The Only Story

The second time we fall in love is definitely considered the hardest. It is the one to teach us big life lessons about ourselves and how we want/need to be treated and consequently, loved. It is the one that hurts us to the core, I’m afraid, as there tend to be sufficient amounts of manipulation or lies even involved.

This time around, we tend to believe we are making better or different decisions in contrast to our first one. However, our choices are most often still influenced by the need to ‘hang on’ to this love we wished was right for us. It can, inevitably, become an even vicious cycle we repeat, as we are convinced we would have a different, better result each time.

“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results.” – Albert Einstein

Nonetheless, after each time, it does manage to be even worse than before.

It could be, therefore, unhealthy, unpredictable, or unstable in combination with high amounts of dramatics. Emotionally and/or mentally, we become ‘dependant and hooked on’ this plotline unfolding before our eyes, as it is a mixture of severe highs and lows. While experiencing the lows we very much desperately crave the highs. This does become a drug of sorts.

Making it work becomes more essential rather than whether or not it is right for us. Hence, that is why it is the love we wished was right.

Lesson: You must not make such great compromises with yourself in order to sustain something you do not yet see as unhealthy. 

Third time’s the charm?: The Love that Lasts

“Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.” – Robert A. Heinlein

This kind of love comes after the exhaustion of the ones mentioned above. Therefore, we do not believe it to be possible, nor do we ‘see it coming’. As we have never planned for it, or maybe not even ‘dreamed of it’, it catches us off guard.

Furthermore, there are no expectations at hand which makes for the liberating feeling of having the ability to be oneself and be accepted for it. It is definitely not how we would have imagined our love to be, however, it presents to us the fact that love does not have to ‘tick’ certain boxes in order for it to be true.

No explanations needed and no dramatization: it is welcoming, caring, and unapologetically true. It’s the love that just feels right.

Lesson/Reason: Experiencing what non-judgemental, healthy, true love feels like.

In conclusion, however, everything is an individual affair. Moreover, it is an individual matter when it comes to how many times one needs to repeat e certain mistake to learn their lesson, as well as at what pace those lessons arrive in life. Possibly that is due to the circumstance that we are not all on the same page of being ‘ready’- ready to truly understand what love is not before we could comprehend what it indeed is.

It is a rather philosophical matter, really. However, wherever you may find yourself on this journey, it is for a reason.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

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The Weirdest, Creepiest and Most Annoying Songs of the 70’s – Part 2

If you were like me in the 1970’s you listened to top 40 radio most of the time. You heard a lot of great songs and instant classics. But among them were many unforgettable songs that were just weird or strange. I’ve tried from memory to remember the ones that stand out in my mind.

For weird reasons they became hits. They either made no sense or having any musical merit. Just a bizarre era of story songs.

Of course, this stuff is all pretty subjective but I did have a few criteria for what should be here. I decided to include a song if it:

• • made me sick without even listening to it again
  • made me want to break my radio
  • made my stomach turn
  • brought out violent thoughts of hatred, revenge, etc.
  • reminded me how lame the radio and record companies are
  • could make me want to break my stereo
  • would make me leave a bar or club if they started playing it
  • would make me boo a band who started playing it
  • suspended my belief in a divine force that governs the universe

I’m not saying that there weren’t ANY good songs during the 70s but there was just a truck-load of waste back then. If anybody’s stupid enough to think that ALL disco sucks, remember that it’s just a bastard son of rhythm & blues just like rock’n’roll is- so they’re related, see? Also, the 1970’s definitely didn’t have a monopoly on shitty music- there was tons of crap unleashed on us in the decade before and after and now also (there’s a future article there somewhere). Clothes-pin anyone?

The 70’s was an interesting time for music. There was a lot of experimentation and creativity from that decade, but there was also plenty of crap as well. Here is my list of the worst and most irritating songs of the 70’s.

 

Torn Between Two Lovers – Mary Macgregor – 1977

This is a song written by Peter Yarrow (of the folk music trio Peter, Paul & Mary) and Phillip Jarrell. The song describes a love triangle and laments that “loving both of you is breaking all the rules”. Mary MacGregor recorded it at Muscle Shoals Sound Studio in 1976. The song became the title track of her first album.

“Torn Between Two Lovers” reached No. 1 on both the U.S. pop chart in February 1977 as well as the Easy Listening chart in the final week of 1976 and the first week of 1977. It also reached No. 1 on the Canadian charts. The song also peaked at No. 3 on the country charts of both nations. In March 1977, the song peaked at No. 4 in the United Kingdom.

I think the use of the word, “torn” is what always bothered me about this song. I’m not alone here. I had a girlfriend in the 80’s who felt the same way. That title conjured up some sort of DP coupling between the singer and two dudes. However, I like the idea of someone being in love with two different people for different reasons. I’ve been there several times myself, but it’s just an odd song.

If you really listen to this song and read the lyrics, this chick is obviously married, and she’s already cheated on her husband. She decides to tell him, and it feels a bit too graphic. This other guy knows he can’t own her, but he can fill a place that’s been empty for a while and only he can fill it. So the sex and romance have definitely dropped off in her current relationship. She doesn’t love her husband any less but this other dude is delivering the D on the reg, and she’s digging it. She should have just left well alone and rode it out, but what do I know? It’s a sweet song about cheating and adultery. Nice.

A  sad song that’s a little gross.

Sing a Song – The Carpenters – 1973

is a 1971 song written by Joe Raposo for the children’s television show Sesame Street as its signature song. In 1973, it gained popularity when performed by the Carpenters, who made it a #3 hit on the Billboard Hot 100.

Raposo was one of the staff songwriters on Sesame Street, and the song became one of the most popular on the program, sung in English, Spanish, and sign language. In its initial appearance, it was sung by adult human cast members of the show (the most frequent lead singer was Bob McGrath) and Muppets, including Big Bird.

I will say this. I love the sound of Karen Carpenter’s voice. That low, contralto is like honey to me.

But this song is pure drivel. Then again, this seemed to be the decade for such saccharine-laden happy-happy songs—see the previous selections plus “Candy Man” by Sammy Davis Jr., and “Playground in My Mind” by Clint Holmes (“My name is Michael/I got a nickel…”)

When I hear this song, I want to drive knitting needles into my ears. It doesn’t make me want to throw up because we all know what can happen if you do that all of the time.

Sorry, Karen.

You’re Sixteen – Ringo Starr – 1974

Is that a kazoo I hear in this song? Really, dude? You’re sixteen, you’re beautiful, and the 33-year-old guy singing this to you is a pervert. Nuff said.

Couldn’t you have picked any other song in the world, Ringo? I can imagine back in the 60s when you’d approach the other Beatles with a song you had composed. They’d congratulate you and then stick it to the refrigerator to show how proud of you they were. Then they’d get back to cranking out the greatest songs ever written.

I Just Want To Stop – Gino Vanelli – 1978

This is a song by Canadian singer/songwriter Gino Vannelli. Released as a single in August 1978, the song is his biggest hit single to date, reaching number one in his native Canada and number four on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100. It appears on his sixth album, Brother to Brother. The song was produced by the three brothers Gino, Joe, and Ross Vannelli, and written by Ross.

“I Just Want to Stop” by Gino Vanelli. It probably doesn’t deserve to be on this list (he barely eeked out masterpieces by Peaches and Herb, and Sean Cassidy), but I have a visceral reaction to this song: every time it comes on, I want to crash my car through the guardrail and plunge 3,000 feet to my death.

Precious and Few – Climax – 1972

This is a song recorded by the American group Climax which became a major North American hit in early 1972. Written by the band’s guitarist, Walter D. Nims, it spent three weeks at number three on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 and hit number one on the Cash Box Top 100. It also reached number six on Canada’s RPM 100.

Lead vocals were provided by Sonny Geraci, who also sang lead on “Time Won’t Let Me” by his previous band, The Outsiders. Nims had also been a member of The Outsiders.

“Precious and Few” was released on Carousel Records in 1971. The song featured The Ron Hicklin Singers as backing vocalists, a piano, drums, strings, and a horn section.

Climax was mostly Sonny Geraci with some backing musicians to create this sappy, syrupy ballad. I also get tired of trying to explain that this song has nothing to do with the Climax Blues Band (aka Climax Chicago).

Kill me now.

Let ‘ Em In – Wings  – 1976

This one is bad. From its annoying opening to its simply awful baseline (one can practically feel the musicians falling asleep) to its trombone solo (trombone solo!) to its stupid flute riff to its inane lyrics, this song absolutely takes the cake. Side note: Why does everyone love McCartney? More than half of his hits are silly little love songs. (What’s wrong with that? Everything.) Hard to believe this turd fell from the mind of a Beatle.

Go ahead, have a listen. See if you disagree.

Dancing Queen – Abba – 1976

Musically, “Dancing Queen” is a Europop version of American disco music. As disco music dominated the US charts, the group decided to follow the trend, replicating Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound arrangements. The song alternates between “languid yet seductive verses” and a “dramatic chorus that ascends to heart-tugging high notes.” It features keyboard lines by Andersson, which accentuate the melody’s sophistication and classical complexity, while Ulvaeus and Andersson interlace many instrumental hooks in and out of the mix. Anni-Frid Lyngstad and Agnetha Fältskog’s layered vocals have been noted for their dynamism, “[negotiating] the Abba’s many turns flawlessly.”Lyrically, the song concerns a visit to the discotheque but approaches the subject from the joy of dancing itself. The music video on YouTube has over 456 million views as of November 2020 and has become ABBA’s most recognizable and popular song.

I hate this song and everything this singing group ever created. Not because my dad brought this music into our house one day. Because I just hate the way this music sounds. My dad first heard the song at a party where some woman who was employed at the bank where he worked was dancing to it. He liked what he heard and saw, and bought the record. He later carried on an affair with her, which was his usual MO during the 70s and early 80s. He told my sister that he liked the song because it made him think of her when she was dancing. Which was a bald-faced lie. I also hated that he liked the song, “I Am The Tiger from the album Arrival. I know for a fact he thought he was the living persona of that shitty song too, so more hate for Abba.

When I heard this horribly cold, processed music coming from his apartment I wanted to jump out a window and plummet to my death on the concrete below. This music is terrible, but the world loves them. At one point I remember reading that this band generated more revenue than Volvo.

I hate this music and I think my dad was a prick for lying to my sister and for all of his lascivious affairs while he was married to my mom.

So there you have it. Enjoy!

HATE!

Wildwood Weed – Jim Stafford – 1974

After my rage fest in regard to Abba, let’s close with this little ditty.

This is a 1974 hit song written by Don Bowman and recorded by Jim Stafford. It was the fourth of four U.S. Top 40 singles from his eponymous debut album. Musically, the song takes its inspiration from The Carter Family’s instrumental recording “Wildwood Flower”. The lyrics in the verses are spoken, rather than sung.

The song is a story about farmers who take a sudden interest in a common wildflower on their farm and soon discover and enjoy its hallucinogenic and mind-altering properties after one of them begins to chew on one. They begin to cultivate the plant in earnest; however, federal agents raid their property and destroy their crops. Nevertheless, the men are undeterred by the destruction of their plants, as they have saved a supply of seeds, overlooked by the agents.

“Wildwood Weed” reached number seven on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100, number five on Cash Box, and number three on the Canadian pop singles chart. It was a crossover hit onto the Adult Contemporary charts of both nations (reaching number two in Canada),^] as well as the U.S. Country chart.

However, some AM radio stations banned the song because of its reference to marijuana. Funny and cute by today’s standards!

 

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Sober Singles Say Dry Dating Can Be A Grim Waste Of Time

Dating is hell — and it’s even harder when you’re sober.

Yet, thanks in part to an increased interest in health and wellness, more and more people are drinking less, with the International Wine and Spirits Record reporting that alcohol consumption is down across America for three years straight.

But how do you break the ice without a drink — and where can you do it when the usual dating spot is a bar?

“You know little tricks,” Mitch Leff, 32, tells Phicklephilly. The Upper East Sider has been sober since he was 19 when he sought treatment for alcohol addiction. He says he often takes first dates out for ice cream at UES., which has a speak-easy-style bar hidden in the back, or on walks in the park with his miniature Goldendoodle, Mazel.

But he hasn’t given up entirely on traditional bars. One of his longtime favorite places to meet first dates is Nobu Downtown — in part because of the half-dozen nonalcoholic drinks on its mocktail menu.

Though he says he’s now “comfortable” ordering a seltzer or soda, the former health-care worker and current experience coordinator didn’t always feel that way.

“When I was newly sober, I was completely overwhelmed,” he says. He worried that dates wouldn’t be able to get on board with his dry lifestyle. “I was like, ‘I’m never going to find someone.’ ”

And although he’s currently single, he’s sure that he’s not alone in feeling that way about dating and drinking.

“There are so many people who have no idea what they’re doing, and it probably causes them to relapse, ’cause they’re so anxious about dating,” he says.

Since socializing so often involves drinking, Malia Griggs, the social media director of The Daily Beast, finds it hard to go out. For a year after she was diagnosed with epilepsy in 2017, the Brooklynite says she didn’t have a drop of alcohol.

These days, the 31-year-old will have an occasional cocktail, but she says that sobriety has definitely affected the way she socializes.

“I think I’ve been maybe avoiding dating, ’cause I don’t want to explain it over and over,” she says.

She also finds that bars have lost their appeal.

“I think when you’re sober, all the things that are annoying about bars stick out — how loud they are, how expensive they are, how obnoxious other people can be,” Griggs says.

Queens resident Tynan DeLong, 35, agrees. The film director calls booze sobriety a “lifestyle decision” he made over a decade ago, only to find that he got flak half the time for ordering a cheaper, nonalcoholic drink.

But he found it hard to meet people anywhere else during prime dating hours. “Late night options for date spots are pretty limited,” says DeLong, who’s now seeing someone steadily.

Mike Abrusci, 30, agrees.

“It’s hard to think of somewhere after 8 p.m.” for a date that isn’t a bar, says the office-services clerk, who lives in Queens. That’s why he often finds himself at bars, even though he’s never been a drinker.

While restaurants seem an obvious alternative, the pressure of being required to sit through a whole meal on a first date is unappealing, since it gives you no chance to duck out.

“You’re definitely stuck there for as long as the meal takes, whereas, at the bar, you can have a drink and then be like, ‘Oh, I have a thing,’ ” he says.

DeLong also lets his dates know ahead of time that he doesn’t drink — he’s had bad experiences when he hasn’t. Abrusci says he usually tells prospective dates that he’s sober, to filter out any haters. He knows it’s a risky move and that people might overreact and think that it’s “a big deal” — but he’d still rather not waste his time on people who can’t handle it.

“We got to Night of Joy and I was like, I don’t drink,” DeLong says, referring to a Williamsburg bar. His date was confused and cold. “She was like, ‘Then why did you choose this place?’’ It was very mean and that set the tone.”

As far as Griggs is concerned, being sober has had some positive side effects on her dating life. “I feel less fun, but I also feel more mature,” she says, adding that her standard for dates has increased. “You really need to have chemistry with someone — sober chemistry — for the date to work.”

It’s also raised her standard for herself.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

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Tales of Rock – Syd Barrett: How LSD Created and Destroyed His Career With Pink Floyd

By the spring of 1967, Pink Floyd was at the forefront of the psychedelic rock movement that was pushing its way into mainstream popular culture.

Fronted by lead guitarist and songwriter Syd Barrett, and including bassist Roger Waters, drummer Nick Mason and organist Richard Wright, the band cracked the Top 20 in the United Kingdom with their catchy debut single, “Arnold Layne.” In May 1967, they made an indelible impression with the Games for May concert at London’s Queen Elizabeth Hall, featuring a quadraphonic sound system, dazzling light show and bubble-generating machine.

As described in Crazy Diamond: Syd Barrett and the Dawn of Pink Floyd, the band was fueled by the creativity of its frontman, known for his cryptic lyrics that mixed mysticism and wordplay, and an experimental guitar style that made use of echo machines and other distortions.

Sadly, the same forces that drove Barrett to artistic breakthroughs also led him down the path of self-destruction, leaving him exiled from the group shortly after they arrived on the charts and rendering him a cautionary tale as Pink Floyd became one of the biggest bands in the world.

Barrett found inspiration through LSD usage

Syd Barrett and Pink Floyd perform in 1966

Photo: Adam Ritchie/Redferns

In 1965, as the foursome that became Pink Floyd were finding their musical footing between classes at London’s Regent Street Polytechnic and Camberwell College of Arts, Barrett had discovered the mind-altering effects of LSD.

The turn to psychedelics had a massive impact on the group’s direction. Taking their cues from their frontman, Pink Floyd began doing away with the R&B covers that were being imitated by countless other bands from the era and embracing original sounds. And the highly intelligent Barrett, already known for marching to his own peculiar beat, began heavily ingesting LSD and producing song lyrics that were seemingly pulled from unknown realms of the cosmos.

It was that combination of original music, stage presentation and lyrical prowess that captured the attention of record companies in the first place, but by the time Pink Floyd was being presented as the next big thing in British rock, Barrett was already losing his tenuous grasp on reality through his incessant drug use.

His old friend and eventual replacement David Gilmour noticed as much when he dropped by the Chelsea Studios in May 1967 for the recording of the band’s second single, “See Emily Play.”

“Syd didn’t seem to recognize me and just stared back,” Gilmour recalled in Crazy Diamond. “I got to know that look pretty well and I’ll go on record as saying that was when he changed. It was a shock. He was a different person.”

The band’s initial success gave way to uneasiness over Barrett’s behavior

Despite the mounting worries about their friend’s mental health, Pink Floyd was thriving. “See Emily Play” became a bigger hit than “Arnold Layne,” reaching No. 6 on the British charts.

Furthermore, Barrett had delivered a string of brilliant songs for the group’s debut album, The Piper at the Gates of Dawn. “Chapter 24” was inspired by I Ching, the ancient Chinese text, “Astronomy Domine” and “Interstellar Overdrive” became emblematic of the group’s atmospheric sound and “Bike” showcased its writer’s willingness to embrace the absurd.

However, it wasn’t long after Piper landed in record stores in early August 1967 that Barrett’s deteriorating state began causing headaches for his bandmates. Later that month, it was reported that the drug-addled frontman was suffering from “nervous exhaustion,” forcing the group to cancel its planned appearance at the National Jazz and Blues Festival.

By the time the band departed for a U.S. tour in the fall, it was clear that Barrett’s public presence was becoming a major problem. He stood on stage, detuning his guitar, during a gig at the Fillmore West in San Francisco, and stared catatonically at the hosts during appearances on Dick Clark’s American Bandstand and The Pat Boone Show. Alarmed, the band’s managers aborted the tour to avoid additional embarrassing incidents.

Syd Barrett

Photo: Andrew Whittuck/Redferns

Barrett’s ongoing unpredictability forced the band to replace him

Meanwhile, Barrett was under pressure to produce a successful follow-up single to “See Emily Play.” “Scream Thy Last Scream” and “Vegetable Man” were deemed too dark for release, and while “Apples and Oranges” finally got the go-ahead in mid-November, it lacked the catchiness of its predecessors and flopped.

The group headed out for a U.K. tour around this time, with Barrett causing more tension by either refusing to exit the tour bus at gigs or walking off before the start of a show. Following a disastrous appearance at a Christmas concert, the band reached out to Gilmour, then fronting another struggling group called Jokers Wild.

Entering 1968 with intentions of continuing as a five-piece band, Pink Floyd tried an arrangement in which Barrett would remain on board as a behind-the-scenes songwriter, before abandoning the idea of dealing with him altogether. By March 1968, Barrett was no longer with the band he co-founded and pushed to prominence.

Within a few years, the remaining members of Pink Floyd were being celebrated as arena rock gods while Barrett’s own musical career was finished, and he spent the rest of his life away from the public eye. His presence on the group’s quirky early records serving as a reminder for what could have been a long and successful career for a unique, gifted artist.

Even though he was no longer a member, Barrett still had an impact on Pink Floyd, and the band’s ninth studio album, Wish You Were Here, was recorded as a tribute to their co-founder.

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