Richard Wright 1: Wet Dream

In the early days of Pink Floyd, Richard Wright was a key contributor to the sound, not just via his distinctive keyboard parts, but in songwriting and even singing. As Roger Waters took more control over the band’s direction, Rick was pushed further and further to the sidelines.

Just as David Gilmour took advantage of time off to do his own album, Rick did first, even using the same studio that Gilmour would record in. (Gilmour’s came out first.) Featuring occasional Floyd sideman Snowy White on guitars and Mel Collins on sax, the resultant Wet Dream was a low-key collection of mostly slow tracks, and like Gilmour’s album, not all had vocals. The ones that did reek of despair.

“Mediterranean C” is slow and dreamy, just like its title, and something of an extension of the last segment of “Shine On Crazy Diamond”. But whatever joy this jaunt is supposed to bring is dashed by the minor-key “Against The Odds”, with its dying-marriage lyrics. The moody “Cat Cruise” manages to provide a change of pace, with its arpeggiated part and near-fusion tone. “Summer Elegy” begins somewhat in the “Great Gig In The Sky” vein, but instead of a histrionic vocal showcase, he sings another sad lyric seemingly about a dead relationship. It’s redeemed by another stellar Snowy solo. “Waves” has prominent guitars as well, fitting nicely with the Gilmour album and predicting some of the textures that wouldn’t be heard again until The Endless River.

“Holiday” sports a chorus and arrangement that almost seem upbeat, but the story in the verses proves it’s mere escapism. Despite the title, “Mad Yannis Dance” is a relatively brief sketch that teeters more than prances, fading into the jazzier “Drop In From The Top”, with its more recognizable Hammond organ. Most curious is “Pink’s Song”, with its contrite lyric about a lost or abandoned “quiet, smiling friend” that could easily be interpreted as Syd Barrett, but was supposedly an apology to the family’s nanny, written by the artist’s then-wife. Whatever the truth, it makes “Funky Deux”, another instrumental that sounds of a piece with the Gilmour album despite a burbling bass, a curious conclusion.

As might be expected from his earlier compositions, his weedy voice isn’t the strongest, and the melodies stray to the slow side. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Along with its brother, Wet Dream fills a space between Floyd albums that were almost totally dominated by Roger, and is recommended for deep listeners.

The album was mostly ignored on release—the title certainly didn’t help—and only made it to CD via Sony’s budget line in 1993. Thirty years after that, and in time for his 80th birthday (but 15 years after his death), it was reissued with new packaging and a new mix by the omnipresent Steven Wilson. The album certain benefits from a wider stereo spectrum, and while most tracks have a few extra seconds of “previously unheard passages”, “Cat Cruise” is 30 seconds longer, and “Waves” is extended by a minute to include more Mel Collins. (The Blu-ray version included a drop of the original album mix alongside the Dolby Atmos for comparison, and instrumental mixes of the four “vocal” songs.)

Richard Wright Wet Dream (1978)—3