"Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd
Music by David Gilmour and Roger WatersLyrics by Roger Waters
Produced by Pink Floyd
Released on Wish You Were Here (September 12, 1975)
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People love to talk about and write about why Dark Side of the Moon is Pink Floyd's best album. With all the hype and mystique surrounding it, for a while I assumed that Dark Side of the Moon was the greatest rock album of all time. It's not, but when you're 15, it's easy to feel cool making that statement. When you really look at it, Dark Side of the Moon is not even Pink Floyd's best album: Wish You Were Here is. People want to keep telling me that my opinion is wrong on this, but it's not. Listen to the music, and it's clear.
Ultimately, this isn't even worth arguing about. During the 1970's, Pink Floyd produced four of the coolest and most interesting albums ever created. They wrote fantastic music and managed to put that music together on albums in ways that stretched what fans thought albums could be. Arguing over which masterpiece is "best" is not worth our time, so just let me have this.
The song "Wish You Were Here" from the album of the same name, is the first song I learned to play on the guitar. The guitar, like so many things in my life, was something I explored and poked around with, until I decided that it wasn't worth the time or effort to master. I learned a few songs, could play most of the easiest chords, learned a few tricks from friends who actually knew what they were doing, and that was it.
I could probably still pick up a guitar and play this song poorly. Doing much more than that would take a lot of time and effort and patience and love. I love listening to music, but I only like playing music. That might be a lie I tell myself to justify my lack on interest in doing the work. I will always keep two very specific memories of pure musical bliss that came from when I played saxophone in high school and college. There is nothing that I have experience that is quite like the moment when you are improvising and you really lock in with another player. It happened once with a jazz trumpet player who visited our high school and once with a drummer in my college jazz band. It was magical. We just knew we had nailed it. Both times after the performance, I shared a hug with that bandmate. What else could we do?
But I've left that behind. Those moments were great, but all that work to take that skill to the next level was never appealing enough to me, and that has been true for a lot of things in my life. I like to know about things, and I like to know how to do things. I don't like to know how to master things. Almost everything that I have enjoyed learning about or learning to do, has eventually become work. Once it starts to feel that way, my interest fades. But I can still play a poor version of "Wish You Were Here" on the guitar (except for the guitar solos).
It is a fantastic song. I love the way it was produced, so that it sounds like you found it while searching on the radio dial. The opening guitar sounds muted, like your stereo isn't working quite right, but then the guitar solo comes in at full volume and it's all good. The lyrics are sad and they feel like you almost know what they are about, but not quite. I always liked the live version of this from their Pulse album and hearing the entire crowd sing along.
I also have an odd memory about this song. During a television special in honor of those lost on September 11, Fred Durst sang "Wish You Were Here" except he totally changed the lyrics. He made it super sappy and literal and ruined a perfect song. No one cared. A couple of years later, Cee Lo Green sang "all religions true" instead of "no religion too" during a live performace off John Lennon's "Imagine," and people lost their minds. Cee Lo didn't ruin anything, he just sang what was in his heart. I guess the lesson is, don't mess with John Lennon, but if you want to rip the soul out of Roger Waters' lyrics, have fun!
Right now "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd is (probably) my 85th favorite song of all time.
As you know, I do miss hearing you play the saxophone, and I'm so glad of your memories of playing with some special people; I will always remember when you got to play a solo with Clark Terry when you were a freshman in the fall of 1998 with the Lindenwood U jazz band!
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