RIP Richard Wright

It's been a couple of years since I posted a rock obituary. Ironically, the last one was in honour of Pink Floyd founder Syd Barrett. This one is a tribute to the memory of his colleague, keyboard-player Rick Wright. I initially hesitated before writing this one: most of the musicians I grew up admiring are well into their sixties, and if get sentimental each time one of them passes, I'd have to devote an entire blog to them over the next few years. But Wright is too close to my memory of rock music to be ignored. I expect I'll feel the same about most other classic rock musicians too.

Wright was the 'quiet Beatle' of Pink Floyd. His keyboard playing (listen to 'Echoes') was as understated as his singing ('Wearing the Inside Out'). He was the first keyboard player I listened to. But, as I discovered, I hadn't listened to him enough. I was into Floyd during my 'guitar only' phase, long before I was hooked to keyboard players like Jon Lord, Rick Wakemen, and Ray Manzarek. Indeed, for a time, I listened to nothing but keyboard players, and Rick Wright was NOT among them. He didn't have the gusto of those players, and I had ignored him early on.

But for the last couple of years, I've been journeying back to the albums and bands I listened to as a kid, reliving them from a different perspective. Inevitably, Floyd surfaced. And I began to realise why I had ignored Wright: he was all texture. It took me much too long to appreciate texture, and subsequently, Wright. His keyboards were always swirling, careening left-to-right, swelling just below the surface, and never stepping out of place. It takes years to find that space in every piece of music; Wright was there every time. He will be missed.