Richard Wright (1943-2008)

By Michael J.W. Stickings

Richard Wright, a founding member of Pink Floyd and the band's long-time keyboardist, died today at the age of 65. (The BBC has an obituary here, the NYT here, CNN/AP here, the LAT here, BD here.)

I have been struggling with what to write. When I read the news, I was overcome with a sudden feeling of loss, a numbness mixed with genuine grief, an emptiness, as if a chasm had opened. We have lost someone special.

It is hard to explain. It is, obviously, an incredibly sad day for those of us for whom Pink Floyd means so much. I am one of those fans with all the albums -- the Floyd albums, the solo albums, everything, on vinyl and cassette as well as on CD. I have the box sets, Shine On and Oh, By the Way (two of the latter), I have many bookshelves dedicated to my growing collection of Floyd albums, books, and magazines. Just now, I am on the last chapter of Mark Blake's book Pigs Might Fly (a.k.a. Comfortably Numb). I have posters and candles and drinks glasses and coasters. I have Floyd websites bookmarked for constant reference. I read Brain Damage all the time. I seem to have pigs all over the place.

Call me crazy, if you will, but I have a love of Pink Floyd that is deeply personal, and that has been with me since I was about 16 or 17, when I first encountered them in a meaningful way, not long after A Momentary Lapse of Reason came out, the first Floyd album without Roger Waters, and without much of Wright. It wasn't long before I became the sort of fan I am now. It is a horrible cliche, I know, but Floyd is my soundtrack, as it is for so many others, and what I feel for them and their music defies easy explanation.

We lost Syd last year, but Syd hadn't been in the band for almost 40 years -- although, in a way, he was always there, straight through to The Division Bell, straight through to the reunion for Live8. We always wished he was there.

But what of Richard Wright, who was there from the beginning, who played on every Floyd album except for The Final Cut?

The history of Pink Floyd is often understood to be the history of the fractious relationship between its two major personalities and driving forces after Syd left, David Gilmour and Roger Waters. But Floyd would not have been Floyd without Wright. His sweeping, soaring keyboard work, grounded in serious musicianship, is what connects the psychedelic, Barrett-era Floyd to the guitar-oriented Floyd of the '70s. He was never a prolific songwriter by any means, but his sound, both his voice and his keyboards, is all over Piper at the Gates of Dawn, Floyd's first album, just as it is all over Dark Side of the Moon and Wish You Where Here. The ping that opens Echoes, the epic track on Meddle, is one of his signature moments, and that incredible song is his, too, not just Gilmour's and Waters's. He wrote "The Great Gig in the Sky," one of the classic songs on Dark Side, his piano leading into the unforgettable wailing of Clare Torre, beautifully guiding the song throughout. He sings "Time" with Gilmour, and "Us and Them" is one of his most memorable contributions, stunning music for a song about war. And then there is "Shine On You Crazy Diamond," the great song about Syd, co-written with Gilmour and Waters, with perhaps Wright's finest work of all.

A Momentary Lapse of Reason was a Floyd album, but it was mainly Gilmour's. Wright played some, and was on the subsequent tour, but it was The Division Bell that really brought Wright back to Floyd, with Gilmour and Nick Mason. So much of that album sounds like the old Floyd, with Gilmour's guitar and Wright's keyboards in harmony again after so many years apart. I was fortunate to be able to see Floyd on the Pulse tour that followed, at the old Foxboro Stadium in Massachusetts, and it was, needless to say, incredible.

I was also fortunate to be able to see Wright again a couple of years ago here in Toronto, performing with Gilmour on his On an Island tour, as close to Pink Floyd as it could be. And it, too, was incredible, especially when they played "Echoes" together, an awesome performance. I remember watching them intently as they were playing. It was special. I think everyone there felt it. I certainly did.

I can honestly say that I loved Richard Wright. It is a sad day, and a great loss, but he will remain with us through his music. I have been listening to some of it this evening, and as I've been writing this. From "Remember a Day" on A Saucerful of Secrets, along with the fantastic instrumental title track, to "Summer '68" on Atom Heart Mother, to Dark Side, to "Shine On" on Wish You Were Here, to "Wearing the Inside Out" on The Division Bell, his most personal song, the summation of his long career, to his last solo album, Broken China (album cover above), a deeply personal work about depression. I plan on listening to him, and focusing on him, in the days to come. And watching, too, re-watching Live at Pompeii from the early days and Gilmour's Royal Albert Hall concert DVD from just a couple of years ago. And, this Tuesday, a long-awaited release, Gilmour's Live in Gdansk concert CD/DVD comes out, in multiple versions, with Wright side-by-side with Gilmour, together again.

He may have been overshadowed throughout his time in Floyd by Syd and David and Roger, but he was always there, shy and reserved, even on Animals and The Wall, softening the sound with his distinctive keyboards and voice.

Pink Floyd simply would not have been the same without Richard Wright. To so many of us, he is already being missed. We love you, Rick.

**********

Below is a tribute montage I found at YouTube this evening, along with "Astronomy Domine" live at Gdansk. I have also included a few photos, one of Syd-era Floyd (with Wright in the lower right, Mason beside him, Syd above him, and Waters), one of Floyd reunited at Live8 (from left: Gilmour, Waters, Mason, and Wright), and one of Gilmour and Wright in concert together.