Floyd is Dying..

The end of Richard Wright's short battle with cancer was a quietly significant event, much like the man himself. I remember seeing a picture of him in The Telegraph circa 1991, when the features section had an article on popular western music on college campuses in Kolkata. I remember thinking to myself that he was the least unpleasant looking gentleman in the lineup. The Floyd were a formidable force, and I tried to borrow a tape from here and there to see what the fuss was all about. There began the love affair with this dark , deeply cynical, impeccably crafted, utterly cerebral music. I alternated between memorising "It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of bird's cries.." from Panorama, to memorising (with a lot more dramatisation..) " But in the town, it was a well-known fact that at home at night their fat and psychopathic wives would thrash them within inches of their lives", from Pink Floyd Anthem, "Another Brick in the Wall". I hoped that someday in an elocution contest in school I would be able to spout those lines in favour of "Friends, Romans, Countrymen..." or "Wherefore Rejoice, what conquest brings thee home?".
Rick Wright, was the keyboard player, a bit like me..not greatly gifted on the piano. But there the similarity ended. He would play odd chords slowly and with precision, and somehow create a haunting ethos that defined Floyd. Also memorable was his voice, which arguably , was the most pleasing amongst the others in the band. There is in particular a song called "Summer 68", from the album "atom heart mother", which is ample evidence of this. Guitarist Dave Gilmour had some kind words to say about him, but not so Roger Waters. It is no secret that Waters did not think much of Wright's musical ability. Which is a bit strange, since Waters himself was not exactly Victor Wooten or Stanley Clarke on the bass guitar.

Thus ends Floyd, I think, because another show without Wright at this stage of their fast fading existence would not be of much interest. Certainly not to me.