The soaring, gritty saxophone solos on 'Money' and 'Us and Them' defined the sound of a generation, yet the man behind the mouthpiece often preferred the quiet of the English countryside. Richard Parry, the legendary session musician whose work with Pink Floyd became a cornerstone of rock history, died on May 22, 2026, at the age of 83. His death was confirmed by his lifelong friend and collaborator David Gilmour, who noted that he had played in bands with Parry since they were both seventeen years old.

Richard Parry was born in Kentford, Suffolk, and began his musical journey in the mid-1960s as a member of the Cambridge-based band The Soul Committee. His life changed when he met a young guitarist named David Gilmour, sparking a professional partnership that would anchor his career for over six decades. Gilmour later reflected on their bond, stating that Parry's feel and tone made his saxophone playing unmistakable, describing it as a signature of enormous beauty that is known to millions. This early connection in Cambridge eventually brought the saxophonist into the orbit of one of the world's most experimental rock groups.

The peak of Parry's influence arrived in 1973 when he contributed the iconic tenor saxophone solos to 'Money' and 'Us and Them' for Pink Floyd's 'The Dark Side of the Moon'. His work continued to define the band's sound on 'Wish You Were Here', where he played both baritone and tenor saxophone on the sprawling tribute 'Shine On You Crazy Diamond'. Between 1973 and 1977, Parry was a constant presence on the road, touring as a member of Pink Floyd's live band for every performance during their most creatively fertile era. As noted by Consequence of Sound, this period cemented his status as the band's most trusted musical collaborator outside of the core quartet.

Beyond the Floyd, Parry's craftsmanship was sought after by a diverse array of artists. He performed as part of the brass section for The Who during their 1979 to 1980 tours and contributed to Al Stewart's 'Year of the Cat' and Kate Bush's 'The Dreaming'. However, the high-octane environment of global rock stardom eventually gave way to a profound need for simplicity. In the 1980s, Parry made the startling decision to retire from the music industry. He sold his saxophones and transitioned to a life as a farrier, shoeing horses in the countryside near Cambridge. This decade-long hiatus spoke to a lack of ego rarely seen in the industry. Gilmour recalled that he knew Parry had sold his instruments and gone into being a farrier, and had apparently given up the music business entirely until he bought himself another saxophone years later.

The return of the master craftsman occurred in 1994 when Parry was invited back to play on 'The Division Bell', specifically on the track 'Wearing the Inside Out'. His return was not a matter of ceremony but of pure musicality. Gilmour recounted that Parry played about three phrases during his return, and the production team immediately knew he still possessed his signature touch. This redemption led to his participation in the 1994 Division Bell Tour, documented on the live album 'Pulse', and eventually the historic Live 8 reunion in London where he performed with the classic lineup of Gilmour, Waters, Wright, and Mason. According to The News International, this late-career resurgence proved that his talent remained undiminished by his years at the anvil.

In his final active years, Parry continued to support his old friend, touring with David Gilmour's solo band for the 'On An Island' tour where he showcased his versatility on saxophone, glass harmonica, and keyboards. He even ventured into folk-punk, touring Europe and South Africa with the Violent Femmes. Music publicist Eric Alper observed that Parry never sought the spotlight, describing him as a sideman in the most honourable sense whose contributions shaped records that hundreds of millions of people have carried through their lives. (That Eric Alper)

Richard Parry will be remembered as the quiet engine behind some of the most recognizable melodies in the rock canon. He was a man who understood the value of both the roar of a stadium and the steady rhythm of a hammer against a horseshoe. His legacy is not found in tabloid headlines but in the soulful, gritty wail of a tenor sax that continues to echo through the speakers of listeners across the globe. He remained a master of his craft until the end, proving that true artistry requires no fanfare, only a deep and abiding feel for the music.