1) Mediterranean C; 2) Against The Odds; 3) Cat Cruise; 4) Summer Elegy; 5) Waves; 6) Holiday; 7) Mad Yannis Dance; 8) Drop In From The Top; 9) Pink's Song; 10) Funky Deux.
General verdict: Nice MOR soundscapes, but not really worthy of a Pink Floyd graduate.
Rick Wright's first solo album was, in some
ways, even more of a rebellious reaction against Roger's full artistic control
of Pink Floyd than Gilmour's self-titled debut. After all, there was plenty of
David on Animals: his knack for
angry blueswailing fit in well with Waters' penchant for mean aggression, even
if altogether, as a person, Dave was far more friendly and less cynical. But
there was very little Rick Wright
there — that particular Rick Wright with his love for idyllic, soothing, meditative,
subtly transcendental keyboard passages and vocal harmonies, the kind of Rick
Wright without whom there would be no ʽEchoesʼ or ʽUs And Themʼ. In a world
according to Roger Waters, there was no space for this attitude on Animals. And thus, it is even less surprising
that once the Animals tour came to
an end, Rick finally decided to break it out on his own. In fact, recording
sessions for Wet Dream began even
before the sessions for David Gilmour
— it simply took Wright far more time to get Harvest to release it.
Very honestly, this is not a Pink Floyd
album; this is a Richard Wright album. The two principal side players enlisted
for the session were guitarist Snowy White (who would also perform as «backup»
guitarist on The Wall tour, and
briefly served in Thin Lizzy during its final years) and sax and woodwind
veteran Mel Collins, of King Crimson fame. Although both get plenty of studio
time, with Wright nicely allowing both to stretch out on guitars and saxes
whenever they like, they do not steal the spotlight away from him — provided,
of course, that you can actually call this a spotlight. As a whole, the album
gives much the same impression as David
Gilmour: nice, tasteful, perfect for background usage, but not in the least
memorable.
Four out of ten songs here have vocals, but
the record still feels largely «instrumental», because Rick's vocals have a way
of blending into the general woodwork. And technically, the instrumentals do
not depart too far away from Floyd-style: slow, stately, melodic,
minor-key-favoring rivers of sound, typically with guitars and saxes soloing
over bluesy or jazzy piano or organ rhythm tracks (more rarely, the rhythm
tracks are based on acoustic guitar, with Rick adding keyboard embellishments
throughout — that's how it goes with ʽWavesʼ). Towards the end of the album,
the band gets a little funkier, first on ʽDrop In From The Topʼ with its jumpy
bassline, and then on the give-it-away-titled ʽFunky Deuxʼ; even so, the rise
in «danceability» does not really disrupt the calm, soothing flow of the album.
And that, of course, is also its major
problem. Calmly and soothingly flowing keyboard-based music can be magnificent
in the hands of a genius such as Brian Eno, who knows exactly how to get to the
core of things and make the listener get there together with the artist. But
Wright, on his own, does not have that kind of depth, and his solo
instrumentals never pierce the barrier that separates pleasant from breathtaking.
The opening track, ʽMediterranean Cʼ, is a prime example of that style, with
both Mel and Snowy taking turns to solo over Wright's piano melody. Everything
is professional, but the atmosphere is... well, maybe fit enough to be used for
a cheesy romantic dinner (champagne, candlelight, evening gown, and whatever
follows — hey, the record isn't called Wet
Dream for nothing!). There is nothing even remotely reminiscent of the
turbulent ups-and-downs of ʽUs And Themʼ here — the point is to stay cool and
calm, with a humble pinch of happy-sad, all the time.
The vocal numbers preserve and cherish that
atmosphere, with the theme of parting being central to most of them:
"Something's gotta give / We can't carry on like this / One year on and
more unsure / Where do we go from here?", starting off ʽSummer Elegyʼ, was
probably regarded as Rick's farewell menace to his Floyd buddies, but it does
not even sound like a menace, because the melody and the vocals are so relaxed
— a bit sorrowful, but still friendly in the long run. If there is deep, soul-tearing
torment here, one must assume that Richard Wright, the polite and well-bred
gentleman as he is, thought it way beneath him to let it show; and while that
decision, if there really was such a decision, might command admiration on its
own, it just does not make for a particularly harrowing listening experience.
It is interesting to note that one of the
vocal numbers is named ʽPink's Songʼ — and no, it does not have anything to do
with The Wall, since that project
was not even on the horizon at the time of recording. Rather, it is a fairly
obvious musical tribute to Syd ("quiet, smiling friend of mine / thrown
into our lives"), as if, for some reason, ʽCrazy Diamondʼ was not enough
and Rick just couldn't live without paying his own individual respect to the
man. Alas, like everything else on here, the slow, sorrowful ballad, adorned by
Mel's flute solo, is tepid at best, and when Rick draws a subtle parallel
between Syd and himself, implying that he, too, may have to follow his own path
eventually ("and I must go, be on my way... let me go, I cannot
stay"), this is delivered so quietly and with so little expression that
even the fabled «less is more» principle remains unapplicable. At the very
least, my heart does not cry out for him the way it should.
In a way, all of this is predictable, yet it
is still vaguely amusing how two out of three key ingredients in the Pink
Floyd sound, within the exact same year, went all the way to demonstrate just
how insignificant each of these ingredients is on their own. In comparison, one
might get seriously irritated by the individual styles of early solo John
Lennon or Paul McCartney, but at least what those guys did in 1970-71 was take
those individual characteristics and amplify them all the way to eleven.
Gilmour and Wright, on the other hand, made the surprising choice to take them
and turn them all the way down — as if they were so nervous about coming into
the studio on their own that they each had to swallow a bunch of sedatives in
preparation. It must take a really, really
dedicated Floyd fan to want to immerse and lose oneself in these lukewarm sonic
pools — though, I am sure of that, after a while even lukewarm might seem to
become the new searing hot or ice cold, if you work hard enough on your
reaction.
I'm glad to see you review this album as I've always wondered what your opinion on it would be. I personally I enjoy it a lot, maybe because I tend to relate to the styles of Richard Wright and David Gilmour more than Roger Waters. The record sounds very 'Floyd' to me, like a mellower 'Wish You Were Here' or 'Dark Side Of The Moon' in places. With repeated listens, I found the subtle moods and textures to be quite beautiful and memorable. I also love Snowy White's guitar work and in parts hear similarities between him and Gilmour. A little known fact is that Snowy actually played lead guitar on the 8 Track release of 'Animals' in 1977. The album combines 'Pigs On The Wing 1 and 2' with White playing an abridged solo between the two songs.
ReplyDeleteI read in an interview with Rick somewhere that 'Pink Song' was actually about a family friend and not Syd, though it does seem to fit Barrett's situation uncannily. I believe'Summer Elegy'is about struggles Rick was going through with his first wife Juliette Gale; the two divorced in 1982 and Rick has stated in interviews that this was a particularly unhappy time in his life.
I also like this album very much, along with David Gilmour's solo debut. In some ways, they are a balancing factor for the overall Pink Floyd sound against Waters' vitriol.
ReplyDelete'Pink's Song' is indeed about a family friend, the lyrics penned by Juliette Wright. "Pink" Mike was the family's housekeeper as well as a tutor to the Wright children.
ReplyDelete