Pink or Floyd?

Last week, I went to the final show of David Gilmour's U.S. tour, at the Gibson Amphitheatre. There, Gilmour played with Pink Floyd bandmate Richard Wright, with guest performances from David Crosby and Graham Nash. This meant that for the first few songs, I was barely conscious of the music being played, what with being starstruck and all. Two-thirds of Crosby Stills & Nash! (Not to mention parts of The Byrds and The Hollies.) The rythm guitarist Phil Manzanera, he was part of Roxy Music! And half of Pink Floyd! Woo hoo! (But which half? The Pink half or the Floyd half? Or maybe PiFlo, or NkYd.)

I have put myself on record before as a fan of the Floyd. I was surprised and delighted at the strength of the Australian tribute band that I saw last November, and now I was seeing (half of) the real thing. It was a very solid show, with some fabulous highlights (for me, the performance of "Comfortably Numb" sent me onto the street very happy indeed); but for some reason, it wasn't as transcendant as I'd hoped. Not sure why, either.

Maybe it was the venue. The Gibson Amphitheatre is, as a space, wonderful--good sightlines, fabulous acoustics. There are, however, two strikes against it: the location, and the seats. The location is pretty bad, right bang up against the Universal Theme Park. This means that you have to walk a narrow, windy path to reach the doors, and when you leave, every single person gets channeled into that narrow stream and it takes probably half an hour to get to your car. (Although, with an entrance for the 101 right there, once you get to your car you're out pretty fast.) But the seats are really problematic. I am not at all a fat person (6'3", 205 pounds), but sitting in those seats made me feel like one. They may be even narrower than on airplanes, and that's saying something. So whenever I was seated, I felt terribly constrained, my arms folded awkwardly in front of me because of the closeness of the people on either side; and every time we stood or sat again, there was the gripping of the seat-arms on my hips, trying to keep me from doing either. It's hard to really relax into a performance when you can't find a decent place to put your arms.

Or maybe it was the new album. Gilmour structured the show into halves, with the entirety of his new album, On an Island, comprising the first half, and then Floyd material in the second half. (Although partway through the tour he came up with the clever idea of starting the show with a three-song journey through Dark Side of the Moon, just to get people warmed up. Which might've worked better if I hadn't been sitting there wondering just what to call that particular half of Pink Floyd.) Now, there's nothing wrong with Gilmour's new album--there are some very good tracks, but I find it to be stronger in the first half than in the second, when it gets a little--noodly. The songs get very bucolic and gentle, and seem to meander a little. Which meant that I actually started to fade out a little as the first half of the show progressed, and that meant having to rev up again for the second half. In my uncomfortable chair.

And then, although I am a fan of the Floyd, I'm not a huge fan. I do not own copies of every album, I have not sought out the rarities and the B-sides, and although I ripped into iTunes the first disk of Umagumma I sure as hell didn't rip the second. And in the show, Gilmour paid considerable attention to some of the more obscure tracks, with stuff from albums like Atom Heart Mother.

In short, I'll admit it: I wanted the big hits, and didn't quite get them. I was very happy when "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" and "Wish You Were Here" were played, and the full presentation of the 23-minutes-plus "Echoes" was a real highlight. (The call-and-response section between Gilmour and Wright was incredibly tight, so much so that they often seemed to be improvising right on top of each other, while meshing perfectly.) The musicianship throughout was spectacular, Gilmour really is one of the great guitarists of all time, and it was fun to watch Graham Nash, for example, standing onstage and just having a great time watching Gilmour play. But I wanted more of the hits, I did; I wanted that feeling I got as "Comfortably Numb" played us out to go on all night, and didn't get it. In my uncomortable chair.

Isn't it a shame that a great experience can be so easily diminished? And not necessarily because of anything the musicians did or didn't do--because of the particular set of expectations I carried with me, and the years-ago design of a bunch of chairs, and so forth. But maybe there's still some hope--I see that AMC Theatres is showing a big-screen presentation of this very concert next month, so maybe I get a second chance to have the experience I'd hoped for the first time. A nice big immersive screen, good sound, better seats, plus expectations exactly in line with the show because I've already seen it. Here's hoping.