Coming off the success of The Dark Side of the Moon, Pink Floyd had some reconciling to do. Firstly, it became increasingly obvious that the removal of Syd Barrett, one of the original members of Pink Floyd, would not solve the looming issue that he was losing his mind. Despite being ousted from the band in 1968 before the release of The Dark Side of the Moon, the band was still plagued with the results of his erratic behavior years after. There have been rumors that schizophrenia coupled with his frequent use of LSD acted as the catalyst that set Barrett on an inevitable path of tragedy, although only the drug use is confirmed. Secondly, the members of Pink Floyd were grappling with fame, and the very institution of it. Peter Jenner, Pink Floyd’s first manager, has said that the band was feeling particularly agitated as the demands for huge venues and crowds confined them into a lifestyle that prevented them from playing music at their will. 

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   Given these circumstances, as well as the pressure to produce another iconic album,  what would come from the band was unknown. A seemingly obvious conclusion was a collection of songs dedicated to Syd Barrett and a sort of introspective writing that to this day, makes it difficult for the listener to separate the story of Syd Barrett from the bluesy guitar solos that saturate Pink Floyd’s ninth studio album, Wish You Were Here. 

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    The whole album, released in 1975, consists of only 5 songs and feels like a sonic microdose of the sort of euphoria Pink Floyd is capable of. The title track of the album which heart wrenchingly pines for Syd Barrett is a song that commemorates Barrett beyond his death in 2006. From the second Wish You Were Here plays, the listener is enveloped in a sort of intimacy that seems only possible to have if you were in the studio with Pink Floyd. There is a rapid switch of different voices and music, with the last sound of this eclectic sound stream being the final movement of Tchaikovsky’s No. 4, which quickly cuts to David Gilmour playing an acoustic guitar. Gilmour said the goal was to “sound like the first track [was] getting sucked into the radio, with one person sitting in the room playing guitar along to the radio.” 

The beginning of the recording emulates the genesis of the song itself; Gilmour was playing the very riff we hear when Roger Waters asked him to play it slower. From there, Waters said it was a mere hour until the lyrics and music came into form. This may come as a surprise since the lyrics are of such quality that it would take the average poet months in a covent-like habitat to come up with them. But, it is Rogers Waters after all. 

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    We know that grief has 5 different stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. The first two are so discernible in the first words of the song that one might think Syd Barrett had left the band only a day ago, rather than 7 years ago in 1968. Nevertheless, the emotional wounds of Barrett’s departure are raw, and Roger Waters directs a question that is undoubtedly towards Barrett. Waters sings with barbed articulation, “So you think you can tell heaven from hell? Blue skies from grey?” It appears Waters wants to know what the rest of us want to know: does Barrett understand the danger of his actions, that what he is doing may not be what is right? Barrett aside, Wish You Were Here successfully vocalizes what so many sad songs don’t: the element of anger that comes with losing someone. That sort of emotional pain has several sharp edges, and each one is given its time on the track. 

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    There might be a touch of hypocrisy throughout the lyricism that makes the listener question if Syd Barrett had it right all along, to refuse the control of his record label and carve his own path. This is where the bargaining stage comes in. While the lyrics start as a critique of Barrett’s lifestyle, they soon evolve into a monologue that has Waters questioning his and the other band members’ lifestyles as world famous musicians. Were they really any better than Barrett? They had fame and fortune, yet still felt like “two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl, year after year,” one soul being Barrett and the other the collective group of Pink Floyd. 

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A bit later in this melodious and symbolic eulogy to Barrett do we the listeners realize we have reached the penultimate stage of grief: depression. The longing for what was once and the epiphany that one cannot chase their dreams without running into nightmares. Every band had their struggles, but a front-row seat to the demise of a childhood friend could not have been conducive to the mindset necessary to pump out another best selling album. 

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    In a song so deeply intimate, what does the listener gain from hearing about the epic fallout of childhood friends? The answer is simple. One does not have to be Barrett or Waters or Gilmour to understand heartbreak. Not only does the song detail emotional pain, but it wraps grief into a 5 minute bundle that resonates with anyone unfortunate enough to have lost a human connection. Wish You Were Here reveals an absolute truth: there are certain people that are inked into one’s soul, their presence cloaked over every fond memory.

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Maybe not in the song Wish You Were Here, but definitely in the album do we reach the last stage of grief: acceptance. The second part of the epic opus Shine on You Crazy Diamond (Pts 6-9) sets Barrett free. Waters exclaims in the final words of the album, “Come on, you miner for truth and delusion, and shine!” Barrett is released from the anger of band members. This however, does not mean he is gone forever. The very nature of grief means it materializes at any moment and for Pink Floyd, that moment might have been when the muse himself stepped into the studio as they were finishing Wish You Were Here. Having gained a significant amount of weight, as well as shaved his head and eyebrows, Syd Barrett was unrecognizable to all in the studio, including Gilmour and Waters. Barrett reportedly asked when he should record his guitar solo, which of course was nonexistent as he was absent from the band for many years. What were the chances that Barrett made his final appearance during the recording of an album all about him? 

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    There is a quote by Jamie Anderson that asserts, “grief is just love with no place to go.” The realization that who and where we once put our love with has been cleared away like dust on a windowsill is irrefutably one of the most painful things to go through. It feels as though we must place our palm over our heart, for fear it'll escape and go with whoever caused this pain in the first place. All of this considered, I ask: what if love does have somewhere to go? What if we can still love someone even if they won’t hear it? That is what Pink Floyd aimed to do. Wish You Were Here is a final goodbye, the sprinkling of dirt upon the grave of what once was.