سال گذشته در چنین روزی ریچارد رایت (Richard Wright)  کیبوردیست گروه پینک فلوید از دنیا رفت.

ریچارد رایت از ابتدا یعنی از آلبوم نی زن بر دروازه سپیده دم (Piper at the Gates of Dawn) با پینک فلوید همراه بود و تا آخر یعنی آلبوم ناقوس جداگر (The Division Bell) با این گروه همراه بود. او علاوه بر نواختن کیبورد و پیانو صدای خوبی هم داشت که البته بسیار کم شنیده شد. یکی از این آهنگ های نادر آهنگ زمان(Time) بود که در آن ریک رایت نیمی از آهنگ را می خواند.

اما سر انجام ریک رایت در 15 سپتامبر 2008 بر اثر سرطان درگذشت. پس از مرگ او دیوید گیلمور(خواننده و گیتاریست پینک فلوید) درباره او گفت:” او مردی واقعی و نجیب و البته تنها بود ، جای خالی او در میان افراد بسیاری که او را دوست داشتند به شدت حس خواهد شد.”

برای آشنایی بیشتر و البته یادآوری خاطرات قدیمی درباره ریچارد رایت به سراغ یکی از بهترین آلبوم های پینک فلوید و البته یکی از بهترین آهنگ‌های این آلبوم می‌رویم. The Great Gig In The Sky از آلبوم نیمه تاریک ماه (Dark Side Of The Moon).البته بهتر است قبل از رفتن سراغ این آهنگ چند نکته درباره آن بخوانیم.

1.آلبوم نیمه تاریک ماه که این آهنگ هم در آن است، پرفروش ترین آلبوم پینک فلوید و سومین آلبوم پرفروش تاریخ است.این آلبوم تا کنون حدود 43 میلیون  نسخه فروش رفته است و هنوز هم به طرز سرسام آوری به فروش می‌رسد.

2.سازنده این آهنگ و البته مغز متفکر آلبوم مذکور کلیر توری (Clare Torry) است  ، اصوات ایجاد شده در آهنگ هم کار توری است.

3.از این آهنگ به عنوان نمونه یک آهنگ مذهبی هم یاد می شود، این آهنگ قرار است نشان دهنده مراحل پس از مرگ باشد.

4.اصل آهنگ در ابتدا به شکل دیگری بوده است که با همکاری ریچارد رایت با کلیر توری تبدیل به آهنگ حال حاضر می‌شود. کیبورد نوازی ریچارد رایت در این آهنگ یکی از بهترین ‌هاست. آن را از دست ندهید!

یادش شاد.

دانلود با کیفیت متوسط 1.1 مگا بایت…. دانلود با کیفیت بالا4.3 مگابایت

+برای آشنایی بیشتر با پینک فلوید+

The Great Gig in the Sky

& I am not frightened of dying, any time will do,
I don’t mind. why should I be frightened of dying?
Theres no reason for it, you’ve gotta go sometime.
I never said I was frightened of dying.
…
If you can hear this Whispering you are dying.

Photo: f/2.8; 1/800 sec; ISO 100; Post Processed.
Track: The Great Gig in the Sky/ The Dark Side of the Moon/ Pink Floyd/ 1973

and I am not frightened of dying, any time will do, i
Dont mind. why should I be frightened of dying?
Theres no reason for it, youve gotta go sometime.
i never said I was frightened of dying.

David Gilmour (con pelito medio largo, no el cortito cortito que tiene ahora, pero tenía ya sus añitos encima )vino a casa, miró el jardin, se sentó un rato y me dejó una tarjeta en arcilla, con sus datos(como esas tarjetas impresas) y me decía que le escriba alguna vez al correo electrónico.
Mesuradamente(tratando de contener mi emoción) le dije que su trabajo toca muchas vidas y que debía estar orgulloso/feliz(le vi medio kaigüe) y después se fue, pero me dijo q se quedaba a vivir en Areguá.

No hubo great gig in my house, pero despertar fue como volver a la vida después de una linda muerte.

Taken from our kitchen window.

in ricordo di Richard William Wright

Promis hier… mais bon, quelques problèmes techniques avec  iTunes…

Donc, les plus beaux morceaux (MP3) de “gentleman” Rick Wright au service de Pink Floyd.

- 06-us-and-them (un  morceau initialement composé pour le film Zabriskie Point et.. refusé par Antonioni car trop “dramatique”…)
- 04-the-great-gig-in-the-sky (quelle voix…)
- 01-speak-to-me-_-breathe-in-the-air (pour les accords de Miles Davis qu’il y a inclu)
- 04-sheep (pour l’intro à l’orgue…)
- et 06-echoes (parce que le “son” Pink Floyd, c’est lui…)

Respect. Bonne journée.

Che bello
due amici una chitarra e uno spinello
e una ragazza giusta che ci sta
e tutto il resto dite che importanza ha?
Che bello
se piove porteremo anche l’ombrello
e in giro per le vie della città
per due boccate di felicità
[Stefano Rosso, Una storia disonesta]

Ieri è morto Stefano Rosso, meritando una pagina di Televideo — peraltro abbondantemente saccheggiata da Wikipedia —. Nel 1976 era diventato famosissimo con la canzone Una storia disonesta, dal quale sono tratti i celeberrimi versi che aprono questo articolo. Negli anni successivi — pur senza ripetere quei fasti — è saltato fuori ogni volta che i soliti nostalgici hanno rievocato quegli anni formidabili.

Nel delicato passaggio dalle elementari alle medie, eravamo alla disperata ricerca di qualcuno che ci spiegasse che cosa fosse uno spinello, e di cosa potevi fartene della ragazza giusta avendo già i due amici: una partita a calciobalilla? Nel caso, ci sarebbe stato da discutere sul vantaggio da dare a quello che se la fosse presa in squadra. Con Stefano Rosso la musica italiana impegnata faceva il suo ingresso nella Rai — finalmente lottizzata dopo anni di monopolio democristiano — e, attraverso di essa, al grande pubblico. Noi non capivamo cosa volesse dire, ma capivamo che era roba seria. Lo stesso anno, per dire, Lucio Battisti incideva Ancora tu, ma era una canzonetta commerciale, intimista, piccolo-borghese e forse anche un po’ fascista. Io attendo da trent’anni qualcuno che mi spieghi che cosa c’era di impegnato in quella roba lì, e ho come l’impressione che mi abbiano preso in giro.

Ieri è morto anche Richard Wright, tra l’indifferenza dei media nostrani — o almeno dei radiogiornali che ascolto più volte al giorno —. L’ho saputo da Tambu e da Andrea, che ringrazio per la prontezza dell’informazione.

Tre anni dopo Una storia disonesta, il mondo era cambiato: io entravo in prima liceo, Battisti stava per rompere con Mogol, gli anni della Milano da bere erano alle porte ed improvvisamente uscì The wall: i Pink Floyd entrarono nella colonna sonora della mia vita in modo dirompente. A partire da quell’album, tornai a ritroso a riscoprirli: fino a prima che io nascessi, quando Wright era già lì a costruire il “tappeto di tastiere” sul quale sistemare la musica degli altri, quelli più bravi e famosi. Portatore d’acqua, quindi, ma non solo: è sua — e un po’ di Clare Torry — The great gig in the sky, che personalmente considero uno dei loro pezzi migliori.

Non so se c’è un paradiso per i musicisti, o se suonano nel paradiso di tutti. Però mi viene un sorriso al pensiero che questi due arrivano insieme. Con Battisti che va ad aprire.

Diffficile scrivere qualcosa di poco retorico in questi momenti, spero solo che chi come me è cresciuto con la musica fra le fette di pane e nutella abbia percepito il dolore di una tale perdita.

È morto Richard Wright, storico tastierista nonchè cofondatore dei Pink Floyd, una di quelle band che più mi ha segnato negli anni e che continua a farlo nel tempo.
Se ne è andato in silenzio e troppo presto, e il dolore degli amanti della musica vera è tanto.

Fermo qui allora le mie parole e dedico il mio più sincero saluto e rispetto ad uno di quelli che la musica la faceva davvero.
Addio Richard, sicuramente quest’eco è the great gig in the sky, il tuo gig… perchè te lo meriti!

e i Pink Floyd? mi piace ricordarli così…

I could, I suppose, have written on this earlier, but somehow that just didn’t seem right. I needed to have some music to go with it, and while I could have just gone and scrounged something up on YouTube or the like, it seemed more appropriate to write about this at home, sitting at the same desk I did when I first heard Pink Floyd in any detail back in 1987 or so.

So with the haunted-house shuffle weirdness of “Remember a Day” playing now, as deft a garage/psych number from the late sixties as any of the more famous ones out there — and Wright’s piano work providing both an elegance and an isolated feeling not often heard on such pieces, his soft vocals emerging from one speaker and then another, some reflections.

Earlier this year Norman Smith, the EMI studio legend who signed and produced Pink Floyd on their earliest efforts during the Syd Barrett years, passed on, and my blog post on him contains my memories on when and where I first got into Pink Floyd, so I won’t repeat myself there. I suppose I didn’t have any expectation that I would be writing about the passing of anyone else involved with that band any time soon, much less one of its members, but then again, after the passing of Barrett himself the other year, it shouldn’t be so surprising, this news that we heard today.

My immediate thought lay in the unfairness of it. Death is of course unfair, but that’s well trodden ground. But you listen to some of these other Wright-led songs from Pink Floyd — “Paintbox” and its gentle but not hamhanded jollity, the swooping grandeur of “It Would Be So Nice,” guitars not so much played as somehow inflating and deflating, like massive walls of electronic accordions, again his gentle vocals shifting from music-hall-tinged singalongs somewhere between the Kinks, the Beach Boys and Queen at their most vaudeville to aspirational reach — and you think to yourself, “Wait, maybe this was what XTC was really trying to be all along in the end. Definitely seems like this is what Captain Sensible was trying for on his songs with the Damned.” There’s an unfairness in this not immediately being apparent to others, or even yourself.

But that’s also the unfairness conditioned by the luxury of caring about this kind of stuff in the first place. The real unfairness is the kind you can relate to on a gut level — the one where someone who had been through it all (whatever it might be…a project, a job, a mission, a friendship) and had put up with a lot of stuff knowing that there were many better things one could do for oneself, but feeling that something good was still possible, found themselves completely shut out in the end. By the time of Roger Waters’ complete transformation into an obsessed psychodramatic musical architect, Wright must have known he was surplus to requirements — it’s no surprise he left after The Wall, no longer content to be a whipping boy and dumping ground. And when he returned, he found himself in the curious position of being central but to the side — Pink Floyd’s revival as a going concern was a bit like how Kiss reconstituted itself, with the division between the rights-holders and the returning veterans. I still remember wondering why it was that he wasn’t featured as a core bandmember in the liner notes for A Momentary Lapse of Reason, why he was filmed separately for MTV promo bits for the tour the following year. Even without Waters around it seemed like there was still something in the air.

Eventually he was fully back in the fold with The Division Bell — the only Pink Floyd album I’ve never actually heard, strangely (or not so strangely?) enough — performed with everyone, even Waters, at Live 8, helping steal the show just on the basis of being part of one of the few bands who had figured out how to perform at arena-scaled levels, then standing in for Barrett at the memorial service for the dead singer on “Arnold Layne.” And then, quietly, undemonstratively, telling few aside from his family and those closest to him, he faced a situation that was in fact entirely the opposite from one detailed in one part of the song “Dogs” from Animals — entirely the opposite aside from the final three words:

You gotta keep one eye looking over your shoulder.
You know it’s going to get harder, and harder, and harder as you
get older.
And in the end you’ll pack up and fly down south,
Hide your head in the sand,
Just another sad old man,
All alone and dying of cancer.

The comparison may seem jarring — again, I emphasize this wasn’t Wright’s general situation by any means, this lyrical portrait of realization of solitary fear and pointless flight, that there’s no escaping the end, no matter how much of a badass you think you are in life. If anything these would be the words that Waters may want to etch on his own mirror instead.

Yet thinking about Pink Floyd today I realize how sharply — and sweetly — they grappled with the Big Issues, the kind of things that readily captivate the kind of self-regarding mindset that late adolescence often allows one to indulge in if one is fortunate enough to have that space and time to do so (and by no means do all do). At their best, when Pink Floyd sang about death, loss and the end, it’s no surprise to me that when they let David Gilmour or Wright come to the fore instead of Waters’ strident, hectoring singing that they were able to shape his words into a more elegant presentation, sonically and musically.

A diversion, just a paragraph — it is interesting from so much distance now to see how the canon of ‘classic rock’ as such was welded together from so many disparate sources, smushed into a freeze-dried endless experience that presupposed something like it was always permanent and never-changing, though it was an endless jury-rig. As a result hearing how Pink Floyd both was and wasn’t something ‘of its time’ is enlightening. One friend recently compared them to Steely Dan, and the conceptual and sonic leap to connect the two makes more sense than simply bunching them together on an imagined FM playlist that doesn’t end. Hearing their impact in time reappearing in darker and darker shadows — Radiohead and Tool kept leaping to my mind today and it’s no coincidence that I’m a huge fan of both, though I don’t think I would have ever consciously identified my high school Floyd fandom as the root source — makes more sense to me than simply thinking of ‘rock blocks’ and waiting for the DJ to spin “Stairway to Heaven” again.

To return to Wright in particular:

It’s no surprise that Wright’s most immediate fame comes from The Dark Side of the Moon, I suppose. The band’s fame lies with it, the kind of acknowledgment of the past and dead weight that leaves Radiohead dealing with OK Computer still, to draw that comparison more clearly. If The Piper At the Gates of Dawn allows Wright more frenetic explosions and swirls, then by the time of The Dark Side he had not only changed his approach somewhat but readily embraced further developments in technology to expand his palette — perhaps most obviously literalized on the sweeping progression of “Any Colour You Like,” the instrumental song that initially feels like an interruption of the ‘concept’ but which in the end feels like a necessary freeing from it in terms of sonic lushness. The other examples are almost too easy to name — his r’n'b keyboards on “Money,” the hushed piano shaping the wordless gospel celebration of “The Great Gig in the Sky,” and perhaps most affectingly “Us and Them,” the kind of song that takes one of the most cliched sentiments in the universe — ‘war is hell’ — and, thanks to both Waters and Wright perfectly meshing on writing the song and Wright’s harmonizing with Gilmour on the chorus, the whole is contemplative, sad but not sorrowful, a great sigh of regret at it all — more Vonnegut than Joseph Heller, say — makes it all greater than the sum of its parts, and Wright’s full-on church organ introduction and backing, along with his piano, especially on the gorgeous instrumental break (during the ’short sharp shock’ snippet), is just that much more crucial.

Then there’s Wish You Were Here, the follow-up to that album, and Wright’s own pinnacle of exploratory synth work as detailed and beautiful sonic universe creation, his contributions to “Shine On You Crazy Diamond,” especially the extended drone and soft melody that begins the song and by extension the entire album, suggestive of lost moonscapes and mournful signals from who knows where. By this point in his career, as well as those many other musicians around the world who had pushed electronics and electronic keyboards from being strictly the province of obscure experimentalists to popular music vernacular, he was not working on the frontiers, but he was working with a now huge audience that was set to grow even further, and as Pashmina said on the ILM thread in honor of Wright today, “Intro to “Shine on you crazy diamond” was one of the primary things that got me into synthesisers & electronic music. For that alone, he was a star to me.” That intro has had an interesting life — just a few years later it served as a great setup in the third episode of the original Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy radio series. Where a wide variety of electronic music was featured throughout the series, the only time any of it was specifically mentioned was when Arthur Dent said in astonishment, referring to Marvin, “Do you realize that that robot can hum like Pink Floyd?” It fit in so perfectly, and so unselfconsciously, somehow, as a classic example of ’space’ music that it could almost be heard as nothing else, almost as if it was written for the show and not as an initial fanfare for an extended tribute to a damaged friend.

Yet the album I wanted to hear most when I heard the news — the one that’s perhaps inevitably become a snob’s choice, I realize, and yet it’s almost certainly the one I’ve heard the most over time — is Meddle, the last non-soundtrack album the group did before Dark Side, and which doesn’t sound so much as the necessary prologue for that later record as, contextually, a new peak, a point of resolution for a band just four years on from its debut that had gone through a series of radical changes. I’d almost argue it was the first concentrated and stable album since Piper, actually — the many releases between the two albums almost seemed like a collection of experiments, no bad thing at all but almost best heard as such, with many pinnacles. On Meddle, there were no symphonic collaborators, no splitting into various solo projects, no working out of the last throes of Barrett’s time with the group, no films to follow — just them and what they wanted to do on their own.

It would be wrong to call this Wright’s album, it certainly doesn’t start with him. But it is breathtaking to hear how his shuddering, nervous keyboards punctuate the opening “One of These Days,” suddenly adding a fearsome twitch to Waters’ doomy-as-hell bass crawl. And throughout the first five songs, the original first side of the vinyl release, you get to hear Wright try out all sorts of things, from the warm, rich tones he adds to the lovely “Fearless,” further punctuated on the chorus by a gentle piano the Band would be proud of, to something arguably even more Band-like, the lazy blues keyboards on “Seamus,” a bluesy near goof that gets away with it (and it too has its afterlife — Tom Stoppard used it as the theme music for his film of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, dogs and all).

Then there’s the sixth and final song, a full side long effort in the vinyl days, “Echoes” — and more than anything else in the end, this may be Wright’s tour de force, his song above all. As heard — and if you ever catch Pink Floyd at Pompeii, and you should sometime, as seen — Wright is the key to the start and the end, the opening note that signals the beginning — an insistent sound, slowly repeated, stark and solitary before the rest of the band slowly joins in, Wright shifting to a rich synth glaze, a demi-drone rooted in the band’s psychedelic merriment but now taking on an air both enveloping and almost threatening, soothing to silence. In the middle of the song, the band drops away again for the most part and it’s nothing but free-form wails and textures, a jettisoning of ‘rock’ expectations in favor of something queasy and strange, pretty and poisonous. Then after a truly awe-inspiring return to the full band — when Gilmour lets loose with the guitar part you can hear a couple of generations of power metal groups and post-punk fiends suddenly spark to life simultaneously — it all ends on an endless rise of swelling sound, that opening note returning again and then disappearing deep into what almost sounds like the distorted, unnerving choral vocals from 2001 in miniature.

There’s a great photo with Meddle, at least with the CD version I currently have, featuring the band in a posed shot somewhere on sand dunes in a vertical arrangement. Gilmour, at his most moodily monklike with his flowing hair and all-black clothes, stands in the background, Nick Mason wryly peeps over the crouching Waters, the latter squinting into the sun. Sitting comfortably on the ground, wearing jeans and a buttoned black shirt, a gentle smile on his face, Wright looks up and slightly away, squinting a bit as well, a massive flare of light coming from, presumably, a small mirror just next to his feet.

At least at that one moment in time, Wright seemed to be the one most fully enjoying himself and what he was able to be doing. A good way to remember him. RIP.

RIP Richard Wright.

I need more Pink Floyd in my life right now.

(h/t Robert Farley)

During my late high school days I fully discovered a band that would help shape my musical tastes for years to come. Sure I knew many Pink Floyd songs but just those ones that every radio station plays all of the time. I am talking about the early tracks. The tracks that were highly experimental and psychelic and keyboard heavy.

The man vital in creating a lot of that music has died today. In a time when keyboards were first being discovered as an integral sound in rock, Richard Wright pushed the envelope of sound and help develop methods and processes that would create a genre of music that has been called progressive or art rock. I call it lovely.

Wright was a founding member of one of the most underrated and most influencial bands the world has ever known. I discovered today that after a short battle with cancer, Mr. Wright is gone and was a young man of only 65. There will be no more ethereal, atmospheric music which was the backbone of the Pink Floyd sound. No more exquisite melodies that solidified the Pink Floyd blueprint. No more beautiful harmonies that spin their way through the Pink Floyd tracks. No more Pink Floyd. No more Richard Wright. No more.

Rick Wright will be missed. Rock and roll can never be the same without a man of his enormous talent.

Here is an amazingly beautiful solo song by Wright accompanied by his long time friend and bandmate David Gilmour called “Breakthrough“:

This song called “The Great Gig In The Sky” is one of the songs most attributed to Rick Wright during all his years with the Floyd. It seems quite appropriate to be played today.

To paraphrase a lyric, I guess I am at that age where it is time to trade my heroes for ghosts…

Rick Wright è morto.

Dopo l’addio dato un paio di anni fa a Syd Barrett, un altro componente del gruppo rock probabilmente più famoso sulla faccia della terra ci lascia.

C’è da dire che, senza nulla voler togliere a Syd, Barrett fu una meteora nella storia del gruppo, anche se sicuramente molto importante per la sua nascita e per gli innovativi percorsi degli inizi; Wright invece è stato una presenza continua ed ha fornito un continuo apporto non solo nella fase esecutiva ma anche in quella compositiva. Inutile citare i tanti brani da lui firmati (li troverete citati ovunque nei prossimi giorni); vorrei solo raccontare delle immagini che ho visto non molto tempo fa, su un DVD realizzato per raccontare la storia del loro album più famoso: The Dark Side Of the Moon.

Il DVD ripercorre la lista dei brani dell’album insieme ai nostri quattro, ormai avanti con l’età ma a quanto pare con i ricordi ancora vividi di quei giorni che indubbiamente segnarono la loro vita. Di ogni brano si narra la genesi, ed ognuno arricchisce il racconto con notizie ed aneddoti; in alcuni casi, ognuno con il suo strumento, ne riaccennano i passaggi più significativi o i riff indimenticabili. E’ la volta di The Great Gig In The Sky e la parola spetta perlopiù a Rick; e lui racconta di come avesse da tempo in testa quella sequenza di accordi, quel passaggio un po’ dissonante preso dal jazz e su cui costruì un momento di delicatezza un po’ onirica che ci traghetta da Time a Money.

Si siede al piano e ripropone l’introduzione del pezzo; poi passa a raccontare dell’incontro con Clare Torry, a cui cercarono di spiegare che apporto volevano che la voce desse al pezzo; le dissero che desideravano un qualcosa che esprimesse paura e sofferenza, tormento e dramma. Clare ascoltò un po’ la musica e poi iniziarono a registrare; dopo l’intro di piano lei partì con la sua improvvisazione, lasciandosi coinvolgere sempre di più dal crescendo dato al pezzo dall’introduzione degli altri strumenti. Alla fine, praticamente senza fiato, guardò i quattro con un pizzico di vergogna, pronunciando qualche parola di scusa. Loro invece erano senza parole; il primo a ritrovarle fu Rick che disse solo: è perfetta!

Vorrei aggiungere che oltre ad aver firmato brani splendidi suonati dai Pink Floyd, ed oltre ad aver partecipato ad entrambi gli album di Barrett ed all’ultimo album di Gilmour, Rick Wrigth pubblicò anche tre album personali: Wet Dream nel 1978; Identity nel 1984 (in realtà a nome Zee, il gruppo che fondò con Dave Harris) e Broken China nel 1996.

Wet Dream ricorda molto, ovviamente, alcuni brani dei Pink Floyd. Rispetto ai Pink del periodo (Animals, The Wall) è però decisamente più “positivo” sia nelle musiche che nei testi.

Identity risente molto dell’aria che si respirava nel periodo, così profondamente diversa dagli anni ‘70 in cui i Pink Floyd eressero i loro monumenti. Nonostante qualche passaggio degno di attenzione (intro di Strange Rythm, la conclusiva Seems We Were Dreaming) il disco risulta sostanzialmente anonimo:

Broken China ripropone le atmosfere a cui il nostro ci ha abituato nella sua carriera, a volte molto rarefatte, a volte echeggianti di psichedelia, a volte arricchite dalla splendida voce di Sinead O’Connor.

Addio Rick, e grazie di tutto.

You’ve probably heard by now… Rick Wright, Pink Floyd’s genius keyboard player has left the planet today. He was only 65. A sad day in music, indeed. And the end of a great era, perhaps. Pink Floyd is one of those bands that never gets old, I don’t think. Probably because they’ve always been quite ahead of their time, to begin with. They’re just way too cool to be lumped in with the rest of the oldies.

One of my all-time favorite songs happens to be Echoes, from the album Meddle. A piece of epic proportion. It highlights not only Rick Wright’s keyboard playing but his voice, as well. It’s one of those rare moments when he sings alongside David Gilmour. The song is very melancholic in its melodic structure and I love it. Here they are playing the song amidst the ruins of Pompeii.

But as much as I will forever love the Floyd, they better not put out anymore music together under the same name as it might only dilute their legacy. It’s great that they were able to at least reunite one last time during 2005’s Live 8, but I’m afraid it’s now time to lay all things Pink Floyd to rest, as a sign of respect, if anything.

Rick, however, is now free to play that great gig in the sky! Go Rick… shine on!

Muore oggi 15 Settembre 2008 lo storico tastierista dei Pink Floyd, co-fondatore del gruppo.
Per una volta Ubuntu Lontano si occuperà anche di musica, i Pink Floyd sono il gruppo preferito del suo autore (io).
Wrights è l’autore (o co-autore) di molte delle più famose e più apprezzate canzoni dei Floyd, quali: Us and Them e The Great Gig In The Sky (The dark side of the moon), Shine on you crazy diamond (Wish you were here).
Le incredibili scelte stilistiche effettuate da Wright nel ruolo di compositore hanno caratterizzato fortemente lo stile peculiare del gruppo, non contento della sola attività di co-autore, compositore e musicista, Richard mette al “servizio” del gruppo anche la propria voce; magistrale l’interpretazione, come voce solista, di “comfortably numb” nell’Ottobre 2002.
Richard Wright va a raggiungere il compagno, Syd Barret, morto il 7 luglio 2006.
Al momento i membri dei Pink Floyd ancora in vita sono: David Gilmour (chitarra e voce), Roger Waters (basso e voce), Nick Mason (batteria).
Nel ‘75 i compagni scrivono all’amico impazzito (Barret) un album a lui dedicato (Wish you were here), ed è forse riascoltando tutti i brani dell’album (ma soprattutto le due canzoni più famose: Shine On you Crazy Diamon e Wish you Were Here) che possiamo dire addio ad uno dei padri fondatori dei Pink Floyd e ad uno dei più innovativi e geniali compositori degli ultimi due secoli.

yuzo @ Richard Wright, Pink Floyd

Pink Floyd’s founder member – keyboard player Richard Wright passed away today, after battling cancer.

A spokesman said: “The family of Richard Wright, founder member of Pink Floyd, announce with great sadness that Richard died today after a short struggle with cancer.

“The family have asked that their privacy is respected at this difficult time.”

(nme.com)

(The Great Gig In the Sky by Pink Floyd)