When it was originally released in 1978, credited to Richard Wright, Wet Dream was largely ignored by all but the most hardcore Pink Floyd fans. That’s a pity because plenty of the keyboard player and sometime vocalist’s debut solo album has much in common with so many familiar songs. Scattered throughout are numerous Floydian references including the uplifting chorus of Echoes, The Great Gig In The Sky’s gentle chordal embrace, and the doppler-shift notes Wright added so effectively to Dogs.
This musical déjà vu is no surprise, given his musical identity and harmonic sensibilities were an integral component of what made Floyd interesting. But his regular band were more than just a sonic presence. When Wright, always the most diffident of vocalists, plaintively sings, ‘Something’s gotta give, we can’t carry on like this/One year on and more, unsure where do we go from here?’ on the stately Summer Elegy, he could be describing life inside Floyd rather than the deterioration of his marriage at the time.
Recorded between the end of the psychologically-gruelling tour supporting Animals and the beginning of the psycho-drama that marked The Wall’s creation, Holiday’s lyric, ‘Between these lines you see a man who’s not quite sure who he is or where he stands,’ could again be applicable to his professional life rather than his personal situation.
Intimate and earnest, Wright’s restraint both as a singer and keyboardist brings a distinctive character instantly recognisable and appealing to Floyd fans. ‘Let’s drink to absent friends, how they cared and all they shared,’ Wright sings poignantly, at one point. Mel Collins’ expressive sax and flute and guitarist Snowy White’s textural, bluesy imprint both help the four songs and six instrumental numbers shine.
The obvious criticism of Wet Dream’s languid poise is that it sometimes lacks the structural bite or expansive architecture had these tunes been welcomed into the Floyd machine to be inflated to fit the band’s exalted status and sense of itself. While there are several songs on the album that are easy to imagine projected onto the big stage, given how rancorous Floyd’s creative processing was becoming it’s easy to understand why Wright didn’t want to enter into what had rapidly become a damaging toxic environment.
Although we were unable to access the Atmos or 5.1 mixes undertaken by Steven Wilson, the new stereo version bears his customary focus and clarity. While it may lack the conceptual thunder which Floyd could muster, Wright gently steers a credible piece of work, which, in this new edition, will hopefully now reach the wider audience it always deserved.
