The announcement of the new album's release inadvertently brings to mind the recent reunion of Pink Floyd. For those who grew up with the legendary band, the curiosity is immense. We do not know if for Gilmour the Pink Floyd have become, after so many years, a tired and cumbersome shadow on his creativity, but certainly, having been one of the cornerstones, it will bring him considerable publicity.
Let's say right away that the entire album presents a solemn musicality on predominantly slow rhythms. The sound is well polished, and Gilmour's guitar does not betray the expectations of enthusiasts. The intro entrusted to "Castellorizon" is in full Pink Floyd style, a worthy opening to show us that things are serious. It continues with the track that gives the album its title, with its enveloping sound, enhanced by the recognizable harmonies of Crosby & Nash. With "The Blue", the tone does not change, while with the following "Take a Breathe", the much-awaited rock turn arrives, never overdone, almost giving the entire work a balance. Among other tracks, the acoustic "This Heaven" recalls Gilmour's eternal passion for blues, which oozes in the structure of the piece and in the unmistakable final solo, and here and there, the interventions of Rick Wright on the keyboard, yes, him, the old Floydian companion.
Again "Then I Close my Eyes" recommended during makeout sessions. The acoustic "Smile" flaunts a typically Beatlesque melody, almost as if one could hear McCartney singing. The album closes with "Where We Start", sober and elegant, conforming to the nocturnal atmosphere emanated by the album.
Overall a work that Gilmour deserved on the verge of sixty springs, elegant and solemn and perhaps a bit self-celebratory but undoubtedly one that will not disappoint those who know how to appreciate the musician's stature.
The anticipation is truly high, but Gilmour seems used to it and delivers an album filled with compositions of the highest quality.
It is obvious that a Gilmour without Waters (and vice versa) is not able to compose a better work than the entire discography of one of the most important groups in music history.
Pink Floyd is greater than the sum of its parts, and 'the voice and the guitar' represents just a limb of that fabulous creature.
An self-commemorative album, which has disappointed me quite a bit, but which I hope (though I doubt it) to re-evaluate over time.
Class is like fine wine, the older it gets, the more crystalline it becomes.
A wonderful, intense, emotional album, a true pearl of rare beauty and craftsmanship packaged by that genius sir David Gilmour.
The first track starts slow, slow, feels a bit like an old Pink Floyd hit, slips away without leaving a trace.
Hell, it sounds like an old Pink Floyd song.
Who at sixty years old can still produce works filled with such emotion?
It could almost be defined as a small leap into the past, an old acquaintance, a rediscovered friend, a regained connection.