Dave Gilmour - Live At Pompeii

A little background first. In 1972 Pink Floyd - the classic line-up of Gilmour, Waters, Wright, and Mason - set to celluloid what is arguably one of the best, and certainly one of the most interesting, concert films ever made. Eschewing the pomp, production, and spectacle that would define their later live work, they set up camp in Pompeii’s ruined Roman amphitheatre and smashed through a selection of their most experimental freakouts alone. In broad daylight. No crowd, no lights. Just four skinny guys, a ton of equipment, and an unholy racket juxtaposed onto the eerie backdrop of sun-bleached stone. It’s quite remarkable.

A lot has happened in the 45 years since that first visit to Pompeii. Floyd would, less than a year later, release some of the most sublime music ever committed to vinyl in Dark Side of the Moon, follow that over the next ten years with three unarguably classic albums (and one kinda shonky one), lose bassist and primary lyricist Roger Waters in 1985 under a storm of acrimony and legal wrangling, and emerge from the wreckage to release a couple more albums that a lot of people seem to like for some reason. Tragically, keyboardist Rick Wright, the man behind some of Floyd’s most beautiful and innovative moments, would succumb to cancer in 2008, essentially retiring the band.

It is, then, a pretty audacious move that Dave Gilmour, the guitarist and “voice” of Pink Floyd, parked the tour supporting his latest solo release Rattle That Lock at the Pompeii Amphitheatre for two nights; this time with a full band, a light show, and two-thousand-odd of the luckiest Pink Floyd fans in the world. Thankfully, muggles like me had an opportunity to see this spectacle too as, for one night only, it was presented in glorious 4K and Dolby Atmos sound at a selection of cinemas, one of which was our own Cinema City.

Now, if I’m absolutely honest, my initial excitement evaporated a little during the first few songs, all of which were taken from Gilmour’s solo work and Floyd’s post-Waters output, of which I am not the greatest fan. In fact, said solo work made the bloated noodling and sixth-form poetry of the Division-Bell-era material sound positively essential.

No matter, though. Gilmour is widely and rightly regarded as one of the world’s finest living guitarists, and I’d put him in my top three of all time without hesitation. His control, fluidity, and expression are utterly faultless, and he uses them to articulate a soul of depth, passion, and fire. Watching him play is like watching a great Formula 1 driver screaming around Monaco; an engine of fearsome power only just completely controlled by its handler. What’s more, he’s only getting better with age. The band he’s assembled for this tour is absolutely exemplary, too. So, while I may have been a little disappointed by the set-list up to this point, I could happily have watched them jamming on Twinkle Twinkle Little Star for two hours.

There’s a lot to look at, too. The light show and video accompaniment, which is projected onto Floyd’s trademark imposing circular backscreen, are often jaw-dropping, but always respectful of their setting. The amphitheatre itself is very much the centrepiece of the evening, and the contrast between the sunlight-parched ’72 show and the colour-pierced night sky of this one provides a remarkable pair of bookends for an extraordinary 45 years of visual innovation.

The early part of the show is never better than when it is paying tribute to Rick Wright, whose presence and absence are felt simultaneously and deeply throughout. The Great Gig in the Sky, perhaps Rick’s defining moment, is reworked with a soaring three-part vocal harmony, before A Boat Lies Waiting, written specifically about Wright’s passing, segues into the gut-punch of Wish You Were Here. I’m pretty sure there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

So, y’know, it’s OK. Quite a lot of solo stuff, a bit of later stuff, and one or two old classics. If the rest of the show had’ve panned out like that I’d have been pretty happy. Not over the moon, but happy.