31 years ago, a 17 year old me trotted along to Earls Court in London, my £7.50 ticket in hand & had my first experience of a huge stage show, courtesy of the soon-to-implode-under-the-weight-of-combined-egos Pink Floyd; at the time, my teenage mind was completely blown away by the sheer scale of the gig, the precision of the playing & The Wall (for it was that show) being built before my eyes, only to be destroyed at the end of the show.
Fast forward 31 years to last night.
A nearly 48 year old me and my wife (age a state secret) trotted (well, wandered) to the O2 Arena in London, our £75.00 tickets in hand to witness Roger Waters's ressurection/update of the same show. Now, such events can be coloured by rose tinted hindsight, leading to disappointment, but last night was not such a case... very far from it.
Everything to do with The Wall as a concept & stage show has been updated to the 21st century; individual isolation being expanded to include the futility of war & the lies of Government & Gerald Scarfe's imagery/animation/puppets all re-imagined, added to, updated & digitised (the dodgy 35mm projections of the original, now fully digital, crisp & flowing - but let's face it, a wooden aircraft on a string, is
still a wooden aircraft on a string
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).
Waters's band (including Snowy White from the original 1980/1981 shows), although staying mostly in the shadows, bar the occasional solo, played marvelously & the excellent acoustics of the venue combined with the multiplicity of PA systems seemingly everywhere you looked gave a virtual surround-sound feel to the event.
One example of how immersive the show is these days is the perennial favorite 'Comfortably Numb' (and yes,
that solo was played beautifully by Dave Kilminster in case you're wondering); during the solo, Waters appears to be walking aimlessly along the front of the wall randomly hitting it... until he really punches it & the projections make it appear to explode outwards in a blaze of colour, revealing a rising sun behind... when this has faded, you suddenly realise the band's equipment has appeared in front of the wall, ready for the final dictator/judgement/downfall section (incidentally, it just as magically disappears before the wall falls on it); probably just done with lifts/hydraulics, but so seamlessly, you genuinely do not see it happen.
Waters himself is a completely different man these days - back in 1980, he was morose & withdrawn; last night, he was... well...
bouncy... chatty... humorous... - he seemed genuinely happy to be playing & even referred to his 1980s self as "that f***ing miserable young b**tard who last played this in London 29 years 329 days ago" - this description leading into 'Mother' which he managed to play perfectly in time to a full scale projected film of himself playing the same song in 1981.
Suffice to say a great evening & I'll finish my rambling with a couple of photos from last night published by the London Evening Standard (no, not taken by me):
A
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gig by a real master of the stage & maybe the last of the great prog-rock shows...?
Jim Garten