Pink Floyd
Live 8 Reunion 2 Luglio 2005

LA RECENSIONE

It's late, and I have to go out to finally mend things with my girlfriend... it's late but it's Saturday night, so not that late, but the Who are on TV setting the stage on fire, and I'd like to stay. I'd like to stay because I know that shortly after they'll be there, finally complete after 24 years, and I've been waiting all day for that moment. Like a believer waits for a miracle, without too many questions or philosophical doubts, I'm waiting for my four madonnas, asking nothing more than to see them together again. In the end, I leave, but not before erasing my mother's recording of Beautiful to record what's left of Live 8. The road I have to take isn't long, 15 minutes at most, and at a certain point, scanning the ether, I hear a guitar playing Wish You Were Here. My breath stops for a moment, and I listen in reverent silence. David Gilmour starts singing, and I feel my heart skip a beat. But shortly after, his voice makes way for another, less beautiful, but equally wonderful to my ears. It's him, Roger Waters, the prodigal son (or the father of prodigal sons), singing with his old friend-enemy. The two voices blend in the final chorus, and I raise my fist out the window and scream like a child and nearly cry.
I arrive at my love's place, and finally we embrace, celebrating our personal reunion to the notes of Comfortably Numb, excited and happy. Later on, I watch the recording and discover that they also played Breathe and Money. But it doesn't matter anymore, just as it doesn't matter to me to know the true feelings that brought them back on stage, if this will have a follow-up (even though it's really great to see Gilmour with his usual aplomb and Waters wildly singing his songs at the top of his lungs) or anything else. All the value of what I was waiting for was fulfilled on that road. Not even seeing Roger calling David for the final hug excites me more than the moment when I was running to reunite with my love, listening to two vigorous 60-year-old gentlemen on the radio singing "wish you were here"... a wish fulfilled, in all the most important senses.
goodnight and thank you