The Cavern
Rock & Words
WISH YOU WERE HERE (Pink Floyd, 1975)
Artist: Pink Floyd (B+)
Fecha de Grabación: Jan – Jul 1975
Release Date: September 12th, 1975. UK
Record Label: Harvest/Columbia
Producer: Pink Floyd
Rating: 10 (MUST HAVE)
Era: Progressive (1968-???)
Subgenre: Art Rock
Best Song: Shine On You Crazy Diamond or Wish You Were Here
Tracklist: 1) Shine On You Crazy Diamond (parts I - V); 2) Welcome To The Machine; 3) Have A Cigar; 4) Wish You Were Here; 5) Shine On You Crazy Diamond (parts VI - IX).
What can be said about this album that hasn't already been said? Really, little to nothing. Perhaps just my personal opinion. I've mentioned before that, in my opinion, Pink Floyd's best album is Animals. And I'm not going to take it back. I still believe that Animals is their most accomplished, most complete concept, with the most complex instrumentation perfectly suited to the lyrics, which are profound, critical, and incisive. Floyd's most daring and ambitious work, lyrically and musically, the group's progressive peak, their best album. Period. But Wish You Were Here is my favorite. And no, it's not the same. I listen to all their albums (well, almost all of them) for pleasure. But for different reasons: some for intellectual enjoyment, for a certain sense of challenge, of discovering new things, or of penetrating their depths. Most Floyd albums aren't easy, it has to be said. But of all of them, WYWH is the one I enjoy the most, simply for the sheer pleasure of it, without any further pretexts or excuses. It's not exactly an easy or commercial album (except for the title track; the others barely got any airplay), but it's one I can sit down and listen to without getting bogged down in the lyrics or the music or anything. I simply enjoy the ride. Perhaps it's the band's most personal album; it speaks of them, of what they felt, without making complex conceptualizations of life, madness, or politics. The least pretentious of Pink Floyd's mainstream era. Wish You Were Here is an album that speaks of what the band felt for an old comrade fallen in battle; madness is therefore a personal, not intellectual, theme. The critique of the system stems from what they experienced as a band, the long road to worldwide success, and how they were treated and objectified afterward. And for that very reason, it's easier to give it different interpretations, not universal ones, but personal ones. While DSOTM is a hymn to life in general, WYWH is a hymn to life in particular, and that's why I think it resonates more deeply. It includes "Shine On You Crazy Diamond," which, along with "Comfortably Numb," has to be my favorite song by the band. It also includes "Wish You Were Here," the song I was waiting for at the Waters concert so I could call my wife and let her hear it from 200 kilometers away, both of us heartbroken at not being together in the stadium, wishing with all my heart that she was there. We've all had that feeling with someone, wanting with all our might to be together, in that very moment…
Almost everyone knows it's an album dedicated to Syd Barrett. And almost everyone knows that their wish came true, and Syd actually appeared in the studio while they were recording their tribute. They didn't recognize him at first, and then he was politely asked to leave. But let's look at the details.
Although Pink Floyd achieved a certain level of success and critical acclaim, especially with their debut, they truly struggled throughout their career to climb out of the underground and cease being an obscure band. Critical praise doesn't put food on the table, after all. Syd Barrett, their founder, remained stuck in a hallucinogenic trip, and after being the creative force and leader during their debut album, the band was forced to dismiss him and replace him with David Gilmour. Roger would say of Syd: "Pink Floyd couldn't have happened without him, but on the other hand, it couldn't have continued with him." It would take the band seven studio albums (well, two of them are soundtracks) to achieve massive success with The Dark Side of the Moon. And what a success it was. Although it only spent two or three weeks at number one, it remained on the charts for around 700 weeks, achieving 25 platinum certifications in the USA alone. They achieved everything; overnight Pink Floyd became the most powerful band on the planet, replacing Led Zeppelin and the Stones, who in 1973 began their slow decline.
Like all bands that release their iconic, smash-hit album, catapulting them to massive idol status, launching them into colossal tours (no longer in bars and clubs, but in gigantic stadiums where they began experimenting with lasers, screens, and other paraphernalia), and exposing them not only to fame and fortune but also to tons and tons of expectations for their next release, the guys had no idea what was coming next. In 1974, still on the monumental tour, they began working on three songs for the next album: the instrumental parts of “Shine On You Crazy Diamond,” “Raving & Drooling,” and “You Gotta Be Crazy,” which were standalone tracks and sounded more like Meddle than DSOTM. They started polishing the songs live, and at one of the shows, NME critic Nick Kent heard them and wrote a scathing review. Kent was a fan (and apparently a friend) of Barrett. Another critic, Pete Erskine, labeled them the most overrated band on the planet, which stung their pride.
The band returned to Abbey Road (the birthplace of masterpieces, I insist, there must be something special about that place!) the first week of January 1975. The four of them were under immense pressure, primarily because DSTOM had dazzled them and severely strained their relationship. Roger Waters had forcefully taken control of the group, not only in the studio but also in tour decisions, promotion, and so on. According to Rick Wright, the sessions were very difficult, and the band essentially spent the first few weeks simply stung by Kent and Erskine's criticism, until things finally started to flow again.
To make matters worse, Alan Parsons, who had been the sound engineer for Dark Side and its predecessors, declined the invitation to help with the new album. His excuse was valid: he had already formed his own band, the Alan Parsons Project, and had other commitments. They had to resort to Brian Humphries, an engineer they had already worked with on the recording of More at Pye Studios. He wasn't inexperienced, but he was unfamiliar with the magic and machinery of Abbey Road Studios and ended up butchering a vocal track for "Shine On You," much to the chagrin of a furious Roger. The track also included the complex backing vocals they had been working on for hours, which they had to re-record.
Nick Mason would say that the first few days were torture because they couldn't agree on anything. Dave, feeling sidelined from the creative process, was deliberately apathetic, focusing on working on new sounds for previously recorded tracks rather than contributing to new material. Gilmour would say they were emotionally exhausted by everything that had happened with The Dark Side of the Moon. Suddenly, a bunch of strangers, music industry types looking to squeeze something out of them, had approached them. They didn't know them. One even asked which of them was "Pink." They were being treated like it was back in '67, when they were just starting out and Piper at the Gates of Dawn was a hit, and everyone wanted a piece of the pie from those inexperienced psychedelic kids. The thing is, seven years had passed since then, and they weren't inexperienced anymore, although for many of those leeches, Pink Floyd was a new name. They had spent years dreaming of success, and now that they had achieved it, it seemed empty and surreal.
The band spent weeks working without direction, reverting to the modus operandi of the immediate post-Barrett era. The only certainty was that they wanted "Shine On You," at the time a 20-minute instrumental, to be the centerpiece. Wright had been driving the band from the start, and part of the intro was already complete. One day, while rehearsing it, Dave stumbled upon the four-note riff by accident, somewhat emulating the "pings" of "Echoes." Everyone stopped in their tracks and stared in astonishment. "What?" Gilmour asked, and Rick mentioned that it sounded like Syd. Roger had his moment of inspiration, and the project took a turn, or rather, finally found its direction: a tribute to Syd Barrett! With an album dedicated to their friend (as if he had died), the four of them regained their energy and poured their hearts into it, and the album began to take shape.
Waters began working on the lyrics, but during that time his maternal grandmother died, and he ended up writing the lyrics for "Wish You Were Here" first, as they didn't quite fit the enormous instrumental track. Waters started another set of lyrics from scratch while Gilmour began toying with a nostalgic acoustic riff for the already completed lyrics that would become "Wish You Were Here." It seems to be the only time the lyrics came before the music, as they usually developed in parallel, or the music came first. I must say that these two songs perhaps have the most inspired and moving lyrics in Pink Floyd's history.
Then came “Have a Cigar” and “Welcome to the Machine,” which everyone mentions as harsh critiques of record companies, a kind of revenge by Waters for the treatment they received after their rise to fame. I'm not one to deny that, but I think it also has a certain connotation or reference to Syd and the early days of the band, and that the initial idea for the song refers to that and was later applied to criticism. “Come in here, dear boy, have a cigar, You're gonna go far, you're gonna fly high…” It's impossible not to think of Barrett, especially if you've seen the video where he supposedly tries LSD for the first time. “Welcome to the Machine” also seems to me to have initially been a song about Syd's madness, narrating how he starts to lose his mind and hear voices in his head, although it's also perfectly applicable as a chilling satire of the record industry. But there are undoubtedly verses whose references are undeniable: “You bought a guitar to punish your ma, And you didn't like school, and you know you're nobody's fool,” which speak directly of Syd. Generally, these two tracks are considered a digression from the album's tribute to Barrett, but to me, they've always seemed to be the ones that speak most directly of him.
Problems arose again when they began discussing how to present the central piece. Waters wanted to split it in two, with the first part at the beginning and the second at the end. Gilmour wanted the entire song played as a single, continuous track. In the end, Waters convinced the others, and the vote was 3 to 1, but Dave left very upset afterward. After recording the vocals for "Shine," Roger's throat was sore, as it has some very high notes. The original idea was for Roger himself to sing "Have a Cigar," but he was exhausted and time was running out; they needed to finish the album. He asked Dave to sing it, but Gilmour was still resentful about splitting "Shine" and refused, claiming he didn't like the lyrics. Waters had helped Roy Harper with his album, which was being recorded at another Abbey Road studio, so he asked him for a favor, and he couldn't refuse. This is the only Floyd track not sung by any official member. Well, that one and “The Great Gig in the Sky,” sung by Clare Torry, but that one doesn't have lyrics. Roy Harper is the same one to whom Led Zeppelin had dedicated the song “Hats Off to (Roy) Harper” from LZ III, and Waters would later regret letting him sing his song. With these tracks forming the album—just five, or rather four and one split—the album took shape, and “Raving & Drooling” and “You Gotta Be Crazy” were discarded for not fitting the project, but they would later be revisited and transformed into “Sheep” and “Dogs,” respectively.
Syd's sudden appearance deserves special mention; he arrived almost as if from nowhere. Dave Gilmour was to marry his first wife, Ginger Hasenbein, the following weekend. On June 5th, they were working on the mix of "Shine" when a fat, completely bald man with no eyebrows appeared in the studio. Waters, who was at the controls, didn't recognize him. Syd stared at him, and Roger asked security who the man was. They replied that he had insisted he was a friend and they had let him in. When they told him the name, Waters dropped his headset to the floor and reportedly burst into tears. Gilmour thought he was someone from the EMI maintenance staff. Nick Mason entered the room afterward and didn't recognize him either. He was puzzled by the heavy silence until Dave told him. Storm Thorgerson, who was working on the cover design, would later say that Rick was horrified, and that more than one person burst into tears. They stopped what they were doing and tried to chat with him and break the ice, but although he responded to everything, it seemed as if Barrett wasn't really there, and some of his answers were incoherent or very insensitive. Waters jokingly asked him, to break the tension, how he had gained so much weight, to which Syd replied that he ate pork chops for breakfast, lunch, and dinner because he loved them so much. Finally, Barrett picked up one of Gilmour's Epiphone acoustic guitars and said he was ready to record. They told him they were mixing and put on "Shine On You," but he didn't seem to understand anything. Syd started playing "See Emily Play." The official version says that after the mixing, they had planned a small celebration at a bar with the band and studio staff to mark Gilmour's wedding. They supposedly invited Syd, took him there, and during the party, he disappeared without saying goodbye to anyone. Other accounts from the Abbey Road staff say that after playing “See Emily Play,” Roger invited Syd to wait for them outside the studio and politely showed him to the door. Dave didn't even bother asking for his guitar back. Syd Barrett remained seated on the bench, attempting to play some of his own old Pink Floyd compositions, while the other band members slipped out a back door to avoid running into him. What everyone agrees on is that after that day, they never heard from him again until his death in 2006. Rick added 30 seconds of keyboards from “See Emily Play” to the second part of “Shine On You,” as the album's closing track. Apparently, Wright was the most moved by Syd's presence, the only one who didn't seem uncomfortable, but rather genuinely happy to see him again.
The cover is brilliant. It's a design by Storm Thorgerson. After Syd's visit, the album's concept shifted, at least within the band and in Waters' discourse, to that of a "missing presence," not necessarily Barrett's. Let's say it was to somewhat mask the tremendous burden of hypocrisy and guilt following what happened on June 5th, but the lyrics are too obvious to deny. Thorgerson began playing with these concepts for the album artwork. He proposed wrapping the box in opaque plastic, making the artwork "absent," at least at first glance. The premises of "Welcome to the Machine" and "Have a Cigar" led to the idea of the "handshake," which is another of the most hypocritical and empty gestures in our society. On the cover, two types of businesses are depicted, one of them in flames (the concept of "Get Burned" in the music industry is also related to a certain absence, "you're fried, you're out"). Doubles Ronnie Rondell and Danny Rogers posed for the photo wearing fire-retardant suits under their business suits, creating an epic cover that initially seems ordinary, something commonplace , until you realize one of them is on fire. In my opinion, it's Floyd's coolest cover, if we don't count the pig incident on Animals.
The album opens with “Shine On You Crazy Diamond”. A damn masterpiece from beginning to end. Did you notice the initials are SoYcD? SYD if the initials are odd... Coincidence? Of course not, but it's one of those brilliant details that would later work against them when they tried to reinvent the album's concept. The first 13-and-a-half-minute section comprises parts I through V, different subsections that make up this suite-like piece. The entire track runs for about 25 minutes, but the first half is what truly becomes an otherworldly experience due to its sheer amount of detail. A piece that transports you on its own, no drugs needed. It begins with a very subtle, velvety, beautiful synthesizer, building in a slow, almost imperceptible crescendo, until Rick enters with another synthesizer, this one with a horn effect, playing a languid solo. The combination is majestic. Simple, yet overwhelmingly beautiful. The notes create a texture or sensation of dawn, light breaking through the mist, perhaps in the context of the album, the birth of Syd, or the initial sensations of trying LSD, the calm that precedes it as it courses through the blood. There are strange, watery, and subtle sounds in the background, the effects of wine glasses filled to different levels with water, played with fingertips, and processed, giving a somewhat astral effect. It's something very simple from Rick, but the first two minutes are beautiful, a sunrise set to music, and entirely attributable to Wright. At 2:10, Gilmour enters with his Fender Stratocaster, playing a kind of slow, atmospheric, bluesy guitar solo with immense feeling. It's not that he's lost his mathematical precision; every note is meticulously calculated, but here he truly creates tremendous blues arrangements that are almost weepy. Around 3:30, there's almost complete silence, and for a moment, only the synthesizer remains, very, very far in the background. At 3:55, Dave changes his guitar effect and begins Part II with the legendary, exquisite four-note riff, repeating Bb, F, G, E to start the slow crescendo. This central, insistent figure is also known as "Syd's Theme." Dave gradually reduces the time between sections, and at 4:30, Nick performs a spectacular fade-in with the toms, leading into a mid-tempo rhythm alongside the bass and waves of synthesizer. Gilmour alternates the figure with bursts of distortion and tremolo, culminating in a persistent riff mirrored by the bass, and adds a new, atmospheric, emotive guitar solo at 5:15, with powerful flourishes. Around 6:05, a huge ascending scale begins, building the song's intensity, until that one-second pause before transitioning to Part III at 6:25. In this section, Rick plays a mid-tempo Minimoog synthesizer solo with a velvety, warm sound, before handing the reins back to Gilmour at 7:35. Gilmour's guitar solo features more aggressive effects and notes, all while remaining firmly rooted in the bluesy foundation. The bass line gently sways in the background, subtly but effectively carrying the guitar lines. Mason also contributes his own unique touch with occasional fills and flourishes. The music seems to shift in tone and mood, as if attempting to recreate the changing sensations induced by LSD.
The section ends with a beautiful descending scale, followed by another silence, and section IV, the sung section, begins at 8:40 with Roger's melancholic voice singing, or rather, weeping, the legendary lines "Remember when you were young (Gilmour's laughter can be heard in the background), you shone like the sun…" in a heartbreaking way, before exploding into the majestic bridge with its complex vocal harmony, "Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine On-You Craaaaazy DiamoOond," perhaps the vocal performance of his life. Roger's raspy voice will never again sound so emotive, so soft, so perfect. Then comes another unforgettable line, one that always gives me goosebumps: "Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky." It's impossible not to think of Syd if you've seen that set of photographs from "A Saucerful Of Secrets," one of the few with all five members, in which Syd appears absent, gazing into the distance. Waters' lyrics are moving, with imagery that transcends mere nostalgia. They are precise, beautiful, exquisitely delicate metaphors—the best he ever wrote. In the bridge, they create a complex descending scale with a monumental bass riff and guitar, while Waters sings almost at the limit of his range: “You were caught on the crossfire, of childhood and stardom, blown on the steel breeze…” This line is key! You were caught in the crossfire of childhood and fame! WOW!!! To top off this sort of chorus with a scale, this time ascending: “Come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine!” Gilmour's work during this is devastating, with a sharp, precise guitar that blends perfectly, and immediately afterwards he launches into another solo, somewhat following the vocal line. Then the intensity drops, and Waters returns with that almost pained tone, “You reached for the secret too soon, you cried for the moon,” repeating the pattern until the line referencing Pipers, closing this section at 11:15. Part V begins with Dave repeating “Syd’s Theme” and alternating it with some psychedelic-tinged arpeggios, while Dick Parry plays a baritone sax solo, until they change the time signature from 6/8 to 12/8 at the 8-minute mark, accelerating the song, making it a bit brighter and funkier, with an elastic bassline and glittery keyboards in the background, until the track enters a slow fade-out without the rhythm section and disappears past the 13-minute mark. It’s a killer, bleeding, poetic, perfect, beautiful track, where perhaps the instrumentation says even more than the lyrics themselves. A piece of heaven set to music. Perhaps its only flaw is its lack of sincerity, but Roger sings with an emotion I almost bought. The irony is that Barrett ruined it by showing up. Or could we excuse it by saying it's not a song about Syd, but about what Roger thought he felt for Syd, the idealization he had in his head? Anyway, if "Comfortably Numb" is my favorite Gilmour song with Pink Floyd, "Shine" is my favorite Waters song forever and ever. I'll go even further: it's the best song I ever had the privilege of playing, with the Plastic Soldiers, in a way that was, dare I say, quite decent until part V, where we could never coordinate.
We continue with “Welcome To The Machine”, which is about 7:30 long. The track begins with the electronic sound of a door opening, followed by motion effects, as if speeding through floors. Industrial sounds and thumps continue to be heard intermittently, and the “floors” become bursts of synthesizer, accompanied by a dark and deep bass line. Then comes the slow, heavy 12-string acoustic guitar chord, which gradually releases its notes. Wright’s industrial effects are breathtaking. They truly give the impression of entering “The Machine.” Dave sings with a strange, tearful tone, like a lament. It's curious, one would think that Dave sings "Shine" and Roger sings "Machine," but it's the other way around. Dave would say that he had trouble hitting a note and they had to do some tricks with the recordings so it wouldn't be noticeable. The vocals come in at 1:10 with the chilling "Welcome my son, welcome to the machine." Yes; it's true what tons of reviews say. Roger Waters himself says it's a song against the system, against the record industry and the condescension with which they were treated upon entering the "big leagues" of that musical "Machine." But I must insist that it also doesn't stray from the context of the Barrett tribute. Lines like "You've been in the pipeline, filling in time, provided with toys and Scouting for Boys." “You bought a guitar to punish your mom, and you didn’t like school, and you know you’re nobody’s fool”—I think that makes it more than clear. They’re talking about Syd. “The Machine” is also the real world, the one Syd never fit into. He just wanted to play guitar, that’s all. And suddenly he had to do TV shows, give concerts, sign autographs, give interviews, and do all that stuff the music industry dictated to him to get richer (they, the band, are the ones who ultimately benefit the least). Syd’s childlike, drug-affected mind never understood why he had to do all that, until it broke. The claustrophobic, enclosed, crushing atmosphere they create with the schizophrenic instrumentation, I think, reflects all of this perfectly. The dramatic ascending scales on keyboard and guitar, like at 2:50, are simply exquisite. Incandescent verses, like “What did you dream? It’s alright, we told you what to dream,” sung with an electrifying fury. If you ask me, I don't see the references to the music industry; maybe it's me, or maybe it was part of the album's conceptual shift. Wright is largely responsible for this overwhelming effect of paranoia and desolation. He uses an arsenal of synthesizers, from the EMS VCS3, the arpeggiator he uses for the bursts, to the Minimoog for the suffocating solo at 5:15. Mason doesn't play drums, but rather timpani and cymbals. The track has constant and complex time signature changes, but they aren't as noticeable precisely because there's no drum beat. It's an unsettling song, but that's precisely its intention, and it's built with an impressive amount of detail. I know it will never be among the band's classics, but I don't understand those who say it's a minor piece or even filler. It's a gem; only if the previous one was a piece of Heaven, this one is a piece of Hell. At the end, the sounds of a door opening and something accelerating are heard again. stopping, and then a kind of party with laughter and murmurs from many people. Is that Syd, coming out of "The Machine"?
Perhaps the answer lies in the next track, “Have a Cigar”, which opens Side B on the vinyl. Roger's voice was wrecked from the SOYCD performance on this track. Instead of waiting for it to heal, he asked Roy Harper to sing it, since Gilmour had told him to get lost after Waters convinced the others to split the main theme in two. Harper isn't a great singer, but he does a fine job here, giving it a more theatrical touch, in keeping with the song's satirical spirit. The song begins with a complex bass and guitar riff that mirrors and separates at times, then moves in ascending and descending steps with the bittersweet synthesizer leading the way. The riff is good, in 7/4 time, not unlike the one in “Money,” perhaps a bit funkier. But it surprises me because everyone hails the bass line in “Money” as one of the epitome of four-string guitar and completely ignores this riff. Well, the song is a continuation of the previous track. In both aspects. That is, from the official perspective, it's a satire from the point of view of the businessman who wants to make the new rock star feel comfortable. He clearly sees potential there. Not talent, but money. He doesn't even know their names, and here Waters took the opportunity to slip in a line from a question they were actually asked after the success of DSOTM: Which one of you is Pink? Harper's theatrical tone perfectly fits the atmosphere: “Well, I've always had a deep respect, and I mean that most sincerely. The band is just fantastic, that is really what I think. Oh, by the way, which one's Pink?” And well, the rest of the lyrics are the pile of clichés that the music company's piranhas throw at naive wannabes: “You gotta get an album out, You owe it to the people, We're so happy we can hardly count.” At 3:20 comes a tremendous guitar solo by Gilmour, which no one seems to pay much attention to, but it's a masterclass in technique, and it's incredibly powerful. Dave says it's the only solo that was perfect on the first take, without major changes, practically improvising, and perhaps that's why it sounds so fantastic. We're used to a cold and methodical Gilmour, but here we have his most spontaneous and Hendrix-esque version, and it generally goes unnoticed. I think it's an exceptional solo. The song is cut short mid-guitar by a burst of energy to segue into WYWH. Overall, I think it's another tremendous song, very underrated. Now, what's the reference to Syd? It starts with the title. Or are we really going to believe that Waters is talking about tobacco? For me, the genius lies in linking it to the ending of "Machine" where Syd escapes the system; he's one of the lucky few who manages to do it. How does he do it? The first line of this song explains it: “Come in here, dear boy, have a cigar, You're gonna go far, you're gonna fly high.” No, they're not talking about tobacco. Maybe they couldn't include a direct reference to LSD, but to me it's crystal clear that they're talking about drugs in this line. Isn't it exquisitely brilliant?
“Machine” segues into “Wish You Were Here”, another of the band's best songs. After the abrupt ending of the previous track, you hear an old-fashioned radio looping through different stations, culminating in Tchaikovsky's Fourth Symphony. This is followed by David Gilmour's acoustic riff, accompanied by a distant, mellow 12-string guitar effect. This opening was actually recorded in David's car, and the inclusion of the Fourth Symphony was entirely random, yet it felt perfectly suited to the song. Since nothing about Pink Floyd is random, I suppose it symbolizes the search through hazy sounds until something is found to focus on. The acoustic riff, which is simply a bass line transition from G to E minor, from E minor to G, is simple, yet resonant and beautiful, something anyone can play on their guitar. Perhaps that's why this song has become so universal. At :50, a second guitar, a six-string, enters, much clearer and more crystalline, playing a beautiful acoustic solo—melancholic, sad, a poem in itself—until at 1:20 it joins the other guitar, dominating it, and the vocals enter. And David's voice enters, interpreting Waters' lyrics with great passion and feeling: “So, so you think you can tell, Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain.” Rick does a tremendous job with the piano, which is generally underrated, but it adds a melancholic touch. In the background, a very atmospheric slide guitar can be heard. At 2:35, we return to the initial riff where Gilmour, um… “guitar-guitars” his voice, emulating a wah pedal. It's simply moving. I understand that the song is overplayed, but it's definitely one of the best, both musically and lyrically. The gentle acoustic sway, the vocal intensity that David fully embraces this time (perhaps this and "Comfortably Numb" are his best vocal performances), but above all, the lyrical imagery, make this a tremendous track. I don't understand how anyone can say it's full of clichés. Maybe the title, but can they truly understand the lines "We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year, Running over the same old ground, What have we found? The same old fears…Wish you were here" without being moved, without a lump forming in their throat? Perhaps of the entire album, this is ironically the song least dedicated to Syd! Roger wrote it more for his maternal grandmother, who died around that time at his mother's house, but ultimately it fit the concept. And for that very reason, I think it transcends dedications. It's not a song about Barrett, it's a song about that soulmate we all miss at some point: because they died, because we lost them, because they're far away at that moment, even because they changed and stopped being the person we loved! For any reason! I think this is another of Waters' lyrical peaks and a beautiful, timeless song, a strong contender for the band's Top Ten. The song fades away with gusts of wind, as if carrying away memories.
The final track is the second part of “Shine On You Crazy Diamond”, comprising parts VI through IX and lasting about 12 and a half minutes. It begins with gusts of hurricane-force winds fading away, and a slow fade-in of a dark, incisive bassline. The synthesizers make a dramatic entrance, and Gilmour adds bursts of guitar, until Mason lays down the beat and Nick launches into a Minimoog synthesizer solo. It's a much more atmospheric piece, with a predominance of instrumental sections. It loses much of the celestial feeling of the first half, and at times is more experimental and cold, reminiscent of the atmosphere of “Echoes.” At least Gilmour engages with another series of fiery solos, and he and Rick manage the tension, igniting it at just the right moments. The lyrics enter around the 5-minute mark, when part VII begins, returning to the riff from the verses of the first half. The lyrical section is much shorter and less moving, but still contains some good lines: “Nobody knows where you are, how near or how far, Shine on you crazy diamond!” closing with that ascending scale: “Come on you boy child, you winner or loser, Come on you miner of truth and delusion and SHINE!” Then come the psychedelic arpeggios that close Part VII at 6:30, which, in my opinion, should be the end of the suite. But then they extend into a long instrumental jam. Part VIII is much funkier, with Waters' bass dominating and Rick playing with various ghostly effects. Again, they fade out as if they were about to end and slow the time to 4/4 to begin Part IX, a kind of funeral march led by the keyboard in a solemn and cold manner. Rick's touch was to add the melodic line from “See Emily Play” to close in a brighter way. Presumably, he added this part after Syd's visit. To be honest, it doesn't fascinate me. But its intention was to portray Syd's shifting moods once he lost his grip on reality. Suddenly melancholic, suddenly celebratory, suddenly suicidal... and in that respect, it succeeds well. I like the compressed version on PULSE where they add the lyrics from the second half to the end of the first, but it certainly loses this original intention. Either way, it's not bad, and the technical execution, especially by Gilmour and Wright, is incredible.
In short, a great, enormous album. What more can I add? Simply that although the lyrics are huge, the true tribute lies in the instrumentation. Pink Floyd is capable of speaking without words, and on this album they do so in the most eloquent way: guitars, synthesizers, bass, drums, saxophone, each instrument played impeccably and emotionally as a tribute to their founder. There are two driving forces behind this album: Syd Barrett himself as an intangible presence and Rick Wright. What he does with the various keyboards on the album is fascinating and underappreciated, and in fact, he's only credited on SOYCD. But throughout the album, he includes arrangements that unite, embellish, give meaning and beauty (or terror). In my opinion, it's Richard's peak with Floyd. Comparing it to the second Ummagumma album, where each member contributes a track, we could say that this is Rick's album. The Dark Side would be a group effort. Animals is Dave's guitar, and The Wall, Roger's dictatorial madness. And Nick? We love Nick. The album, like all those that followed an iconic record, broke sales records in short order, but it didn't reach the level of Dark Side, achieving "only" six platinum certifications in the USA. Ben Edmunds of Rolling Stone, predictably, put his foot in it, harshly criticizing it for having a "very ambiguous concept." Well, that's part of the magazine's reputation.
For me, it's an essential album. And that's another difference with Animals, which is an album I admire and respect. This one, moreover, is an album I love, and I know it by heart, note by note. One of Pink Floyd's masterpieces, and therefore, an absolute must-have, one that should be listened to again and again until it's etched in your memory. If you don't have it, what are you waiting for?
By Corvan
Sep/20/2013
