Postscript - Boy For Sale
To be honest it was rave music that finally killed the Glaxos. Once I’d sold my soul to the rave devil I gave up writing songs. I couldn’t see how the traditional song narrative would have any place in the bright new bleepy future. Didn’t quite work out like that of course. You must allow us idealists our utopian fantasies.
For reasons I can’t begin to fathom I’ve started writing songs again in the past two years. They seem to have fallen in to two distinct categories; a.) short snappy songs of three or four verses maximum, designed to last no longer than three or four minutes. b.) huge screeds of symbolist poetics influenced by Pete Brown and Spike Hawkins.
I wouldn’t mind doing something with these songs. Its time to start making music again. Maybe.
Interviewer - What would be of primary importance, whether they were brilliant musicians or whether you could get on with them?
Syd Barrett - I'm afraid I think I'd have to get on with them. They'd have to be good musicians. I think they'd be difficult to find. They'd have to be lively.
Melody Maker. March 1971.