Capitol Records

The release of vintage Pink Floyd continues with 1975’s Wish You Were Here, available in a single-disc newly-remastered “Discovery” version, a double-disc “Experience Edition” (the remastered album plus a second disc of rarities), and an “Immersion Box Set” chock full of music, video, reading material, all sorts of collector’s items, and a surprise body part donated by Roger Waters. (Just kidding on that last one, folks.) (Pretty sure, anyway.)

We’re going to take a look at the two-disc Wish You Were Here Experience Edition, most notable for a never-before-released version of the title song featuring jazz violinist extraordinaire Stephane Grappelli. Recorded during the 1975 sessions, Grappelli’s violin was virtually inaudible on the original version of the song, with just a bare hint of it at the fade. The version here is pure gold and worth further discussion once we tour the rest of the album.

Disc One (as do all the revisited Floyd albums) features remastering by longtime Floyd studio guru James Guthrie, assisted by Joel Plante. There’s nothing radical here – Guthrie and Plante have only added subtle colors and tasteful accents to an established work that wasn’t lacking a thing.

Disc Two is where things really get interesting. The first three cuts are from a November 1974 performance at the Wembley Empire Pool in London. “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” is powerful, with guitarist David Gilmour giving the song a bluesy push at times while bassist Waters and drummer Nick Mason are much fiercer than they were on the original. Keyboardist Richard Wright ushers the song in and takes it out with the proper amount of reverence and majesty. “Raving And Drooling” would later reappear as “Sheep” on Animals (1977) – here it’s an all-out wumpfest propelled by bass and drums with the guitar and keys hanging on for dear life. (The rhythm shapeshifts into what sounds like a reckless “Other One” at times.) Compared to that, “You’ve Got To Be Crazy” feels like a gentle glide, though it doesn’t lack for power – especially when Gilmour lets the black Strat run free.

The alternative version of “Have A Cigar” offered here is interesting, but the well-known version released in ’75 is better simply because of the solo lead vocal by guest Roy Harper. Here Harper is joined by what sounds to be Roger Waters and the result is – though a good performance – somewhat watered down. Harper played the role of the soulless and clueless greedhead music exec just fine – the additional voice only clutters things. The next cut, though, is definitely a challenge to the Floydian Holy Grail: the aforementioned “Wish You Were Here”, with Stephane Grappelli.

This version has none of the studio trickery that the original did, with the opening 12-string sounding like it’s coming through an in-dash AM radio speaker – the two guitars are simply separated by channels with the 6-string having slightly more presence when it joins in on the intro (Gilmour overdubbing on himself). At the 0:58 mark, Gilmour fires off a lovely bend on the 6-string and then lets the notes cascade down the neck; there’s an off-mic “Whoo!” of approval at 1:03. The first verse is just Gilmour, voice pure and strong and full of emotion with a little reverb rolled on – but not too much – backed by the acoustic guitars. As the verse ends, the two guitars return to the opening theme, now playing it in unison. The rest of the band (brought in by Mason’s drums) join for the second verse, Waters playing a simple but stately bass line and Wright on a lush-sounding grand piano.

The second verse ends with a beautiful bit of rippling keys – then in comes Stephane Grappelli’s violin to take the lead. How do you second-guess a classic arrangement of a song that’s been part of the world’s soundtrack for 36 years? The sound that you’re expecting to hear is Gilmour’s voice scatting over huffs of organ chords – and the first few thousand times you’ve heard it, you never had a complaint or wished it was different.

Once you hear this version, though, you’ll never be able to go back, boys and girls. And that’s the truth.

Grappelli is a polite guest; he enters gently, gracefully picking up on the emotion of Gilmour’s voice. He lets the guitars define things, the violin describing the song’s theme in its own manner: flutters, slow swoops, and a quiet moan.

Back to the final vocal verse, the violin weaving and dancing with the vocal, helping to lug the ache. Grappelli climbs clear of the pain, then lets the fiddle tumble back down, almost muttering to itself. The bow draws a sigh, then gathers strength with lovely cries softened by delicate vibrato as the guitars return to the original theme, playing it as one. The violin gets bluesy again, offering little passages of thought that alternate between delicate suggestions and powerful statements. For a solid two minutes, Grappelli lays down a performance that’s nothing short of magic – a beautiful complement to the song’s heart.

I can’t tell you that it was a mistake not to use this take for the original album … but it’s surely a treasure to discover now. And it ends the second disc.

As it should.