There has never been such a boldly calculated creative side-step as the one engineered by Pink Floyd following the release of Momentary Lapse of Reason. With Roger Waters gone, following the almost solo outing that was Final Cut, David Gilmour decided that, instead of doing the sensible thing and folding the band, he would take charge – something he did with a ruthlessness that surprised the rest of the world. The band, which included Richard Wright, albeit unofficially, was essentially now Gilmour and Nick Mason, with a wonderful array of hired help and, while the resulting album is widely regarded as one of the weakest in the band’s catalogue, it still has a number of genuine Floyd classics, not least Sorrow.
And yet… Consider Pink Floyd’s position in 1988. Having only released one live disc, in the form of Ummagumma, and the VHS Live in Pompeii, the band had never documented the stadium tours that followed their greatest periods of success and now, still a world class live act, they had the opportunity to correct that. Only the most bull-headed conviction (some might even venture to call it arrogance), then, would lead the band to front-load the first disc (or first two sides of vinyl if you’re that way inclined) with entirely new material (apart from the obligatory opener of Shine On You Crazy Diamond). Yet, it transpired that Gilmour was right – the new songs shone in the live environment and a revisionist approach might suggest that Momentary… was stymied as much by bad production and the sterile studio environment, as it was by trying to imitate the sound of the four-piece Floyd, as Waters so cruelly suggested.
Listening back, even though the tour was a massive, sold-out success, it’s as if Gilmour was out to prove a point and so he does on tracks like Sorrow, The Dogs Of War, and Yet Another Movie. Indeed, so brightly does the new material shine in this new found light, that the second disc, made up of more familiar material, starts sluggishly in comparison – with a decent rendition of One Of These Days that is more nostalgia trip than a track the band are defending with fiery passion. Compare, for example, Gilmour’s vicious blues snarl on The Dogs Of War to the slightly disappointing take on Wish You Were Here and you’ll see what I mean. Not that the second disc is bad – the closing blast of Comfortably Numb and Run Like Hell sees the band, and Gilmour in particular, tear into the two songs, while Us And Them has arguably never sounded more beautiful than it does in this rendition.
Overall, however, it is the Momentary lapse… material that is the greatest revelation, and for anyone who sneeringly dismisses that album as Gilmour’s folly, this live disc is an important reminder that the songs were far stronger than the patchy eighties’ production of the album (astonishingly overseen by the usually reliable Bob Ezrin) ever allowed them to appear. While subsequent live documents of Pink Floyd have been more satisfying in other areas (the Division bell / Dark side... axis of Pulse or the complete recording of the massive The Wall tour) Delicate Sound Of Thunder still remains one of the most startling f*** you messages in history, with Gilmour adequately proving that his Pink Floyd were very much alive and kicking, and that his song-writing skills were unreasonably overlooked in Waters’ final days in the band. 8.5/10
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