Neil Scott Barber, 1961 - 2026

I think I first met Neil through Elephant Noise, the band he was in with friends of mine (Crum & Stuart), back in the late eighties. Early memories of chatting with Neil in the Green Tree beer garden on the Cowgate, trying to steer (unsuccessfully) the conversation away from philosophy. Later, working with him when he ran his InTransit man-with-a-van business, humping furniture and the dreaded washing machines up and down tenement stairs. Much later, Neil teaching my eldest more and more obscure and intricate guitar chords and Barry Manilow songs. Fondest memory has to be a summer afternoon/evening with Neil, Craig and my wife, Gillian, sitting in his garden drinking far too many bottles of white wine in the sun. We never did get round to returning the favour. Sorry Neil. Love from John, Gillian, Jack & Ben.

Neil and Craig were just here in Chicago last October eating street food and deep-dish pizza, swimming in Lake Michigan and cruising down the Chicago River beholding the splendid architecture. We were effortlessly enjoying each other’s company, drinking white wine in a hot tub at their Airbnb. Merriment was scheduled to resume this summer when we planned to visit them in Edinburgh. I have fantasized for years about moving my family to Edinburgh and being neighbors with Neil and Craig, borrowing a cup of sugar, eating Neil’s confections, picking up gardening tips, writing songs together. Neil was so vibrant, so decent, so smart, so much fun. I first met Neil in 1984 when he visited our mutual friend Mitch at Tufts University outside Boston, where Mitch, a bunch of other college students and I lived in the same dorm. We’d all convene in Mitch’s room to hang out, get baked and listen to music. Neil was a new-wave vision with a killer accent, as if Depeche Mode and The Smiths somehow manifested this pansexual, philosophizing artist. He had short, bleached blond hair, blue eyes that surveilled our hazy scene with an assessing smirk, and an air of both intellectual authority and serious fun. He was foreign-and-therefore-exotic to American teenage me who hadn’t yet flown on an airplane. It was exciting that someone so interesting was curious about what was on my mind. Neil somehow arranged some solo gigs performing songs after hours in the dining hall and made Tufts seem a whole lot cooler. When I was on my junior year abroad in Madrid, I visited Neil in Edinburgh over spring break. He was then fronting a popular art-rock band called Elephant Noise and also dancing professionally—thriving in his post-university creative life. I had no idea what I’d do after college, and I admired his full-speed pursuit of his artistic identity. I stayed at his flat for a few days and he took me around Edinburgh. He was an excellent tour guide, pointing out the historical and the interesting. I loved the ever-present smell of brewing in Edinburgh. We talked constantly about music and ended up recording an impromptu “radio show” with Neil playing songs dressed in a harlequin costume and mask, both of us singing and riffing on rock ‘n roll and nonsense into his tape recorder, cracking each other up. We called it the Rock Trash Facts Show, as if it were the first in a series. I visited him a couple more times in my 20s, but as happens, life went on and we lost touch, him in Scotland and me ever-westerly in the States. We reconnected a couple decades later thanks to social media. We sent each other songs we’d written, and he surprised me airmailing a CD he’d burned of our Rock Trash Facts Show he’d unearthed on cassette from 25 years earlier. It still rules. Neil and Craig hosted my husband Gavin, our 8-year-old daughter Isla, and me in Edinburgh in 2018 and it was as if no time had passed. He and Isla wrote a song together. He roasted a chicken, made tablet, and we all talked over happy hour in the garden. We compared notes about audio recording, we thrifted, ate, drank, and strolled. I loved that he always used the Latin names to identify the flowers he’d planted in their gorgeous garden—his antirrhinum magus, my snapdragon. On a walk downtown he casually told Isla Santa Claus was a myth, but she was so charmed by him and his well-mannered directness that the sting was minimized (for her, anyway; Gavin and I stood there slack-jawed). We rode the 22 with him and proudly belted out his brilliant song from the front seats of the upper level to an otherwise empty bus. Neil and Craig made enjoying life, each other and their friendships look so easy. My heart goes out to Craig, and to all of Neil’s people. We are so lucky. I will cherish the relics: his songs, his voice on the Rock Trash Facts CD that I can’t bring myself to listen to again yet, pictures, and his handwriting from correspondence. So much love, Neil. Thank you. Please haunt us if at all possible.

I met Neil many years ago at an ESS meeting. My attendances at the ESS may have dwindled but I always looked forward to meeting him at the Rosie for a pint (or two) and a session of setting the world to right. I stopped using Facebook some time ago so I’m not sure what drew me to open it this time. I’ve not been right since and I can only imagine the loss that Craig feels. Thank you for setting this up Craig so I can let the ether know I too knew him, even if I can’t find the words to express myself.

Our thoughts are with Craig every day as we look across the road to no 98. Neil was such a livewire and from tadpoles to tablet and Halloween parties we will miss him. Much love to Craig

Words cannnot describe the feelings of extreme loss and total disbelief with Neil's passing and I'm finding it very difficult and heartbreaking to write this. I first met him at Edin Uni and shared a flat with him. It was always a riot and there was never a dull moment with Neil around. I fondly reminisce about the musical evenings at the Nicolson St flat when he played his guitar and mandolin and we all sang along. They were some of the best days of my life. Sadly we lost touch for some years but thankfully reconnected at a flat reunion some years later and met his lovely partner Craig. I will miss the garden parties, the pumpkin competitions, the Burns suppers. But most of all, I will miss you my very dear friend. Life will never be the same again!

In May 2022, Neil came to our house to give Daniel his very first guitar lesson. From the very start, they just clicked. What followed was almost four years of learning, teaching, a lot of laughter, and some truly wonderful songwriting together. Neil was incredibly patient with Daniel. He nurtured his talent and, just as importantly, helped him grow in confidence. For that, we will always be grateful to you, Neil. What he gave didn’t stop at the lessons. He helped record Daniel’s songs onto CDs, encouraged his creativity, and made some amazing things happen — including a Christmas song being played on local radio, and another used in music festival advertising that reached thousands of people. Neil also set up small gigs in our house, opening up his music so family and friends could come together and listen. These moments created memories I will always hold close. Neil and Craig welcomed us so warmly into their home — to the famous Halloween parties, and those lovely afternoons of games, chocolate cake… and wine… in their beautiful garden. Over time, those gatherings grew into a real friendship, and that meant a great deal to us. To say Neil will be missed by many is a huge understatement. Reading the many beautiful messages shared has been incredibly moving, even though it’s heartbreaking to know he’s no longer here. I know you didn’t believe in an afterlife, Neil, but I hope somehow you can still see Daniel grow, and watch where the journey you started with him will lead. My heart goes out to Craig, and to all of Neil’s family and friends. Neil’s kindness, generosity, and belief in others live on — and he will always be remembered with love.

Neil, Old friend of 40 years. I will always have fond memories of playing in Elephant Noise, and also our lasting friendship.It was great you made the effort. I’ll miss your trips to Dunbar in summer to sit in the garden and your festive trips to ‘marvel’ at the Dunbar Christmas lights. Thanks for everything old friend, you will always be in my thoughts. And as you said, time indeed does slip away. Crum x

I met first met Neil at University where we shared a flat with seven other people. It was mayhem at times with Neil generating a lot of it! I met up with him again at a reunion some 30 odd years later, when he made the observation he'd been 'a bit of a cock' at University'. I said with total honesty that things were never boring with him around and he made life fun, which he did. After the reunion the remnants of 91 Nicholson Street still continued to meet up. Gavin (my partner) and I have lovely memories of meeting Craig and sitting in their beautiful garden. Neil enthusiastically showed us round the garden. He was in raptures about the baby frogs in the wee pond he had created. As everyone else has said, Neil was a one off and refused to compromise or conform to norms. He made a huge success of just being himself and we loved him for it.

Neil entered my life as a neighbour and left as a much admired friend. Nothing much I can say that others haven't. Such a shock and unbelievably unfair that he has left us all behind, I shall miss his "BEHOLD!" garden videos and his acerbic wit, and will remember fondly the Bruntsfield Fox Hunt and the many 'putting the world to rights' conversations. Sadly we never got to do the great tablet test, but I'll concede, yours was (possibly!)the best Neil. Much love and all thoughts to Craig and all family and friends x