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Rating: The Pink Floyd cow still gives milk… This album, released a few months ago, contains the full performance of the (cosmically) famous suite during a concert held at Wembley, London, in 1974.
The four Floyds were at the peak of their career at that moment, still young and in great shape. And they play well, very cohesive: Gilmour unfolds his youthful, powerful, and affably raspy voice as a blues rocker in his prime, Mason is precise and clean, Waters sharp and adequate, Wright balanced and mystical.
The tracks flow organically into each other, often more extended than in the studio version, so much so that the album lasts a good 55 minutes, a quarter of an hour longer. The expansions begin with the intro “Speak to Me,” where the four-on-the-floor kick drum lingers for a long time before leading into the paroxysmal crescendo that ends in “Breathe”; “On the Run” also takes its time… the battle of synthesizers between Waters and Gilmour representing the frenzy and hurry of modern life surpasses five minutes.
These become almost seven in the marvelous “The Great Gig in the Sky,” unfortunately downplayed by the performance of both backing singers of color, not even worthy of untying the shoes of the original, incomparable Clare Torry (white, blonde, but with a hundred times more soul and gospel in her heart and tonsils than the two ladies performing at Wembley).
With “Money,” they overdo the guitar and sax breaks, which push it beyond nine minutes; it rivals “Us and Them,” same duration and with poor Rick singing it beautifully (R.I.P.), until it flows into the instrumental “Any Colour You Like,” meaning another eight minutes of calm, atmospheric jam session among the four old friends they once were.
Certainly, the dozens of special effects aren’t missing, prominently the clocks of “Time” and then the voices of the many characters interviewed by the Floyds who became part of the work, the noises, etc. I try to imagine the technicians working behind the stage to start and stop all those tapes in sync, back when there were no personal computers and such...
The music is very well produced and mixed; great sounds that perfectly recreate the relaxed and clean style of Floydian music. A true pleasure to revisit the feats of the young and handsome Gilmour, the calm Wright, the eager Waters, and the balanced Mason. For old folks like me, the emotion is strong, with these vintage performances that drag the mind into memories and situations of that time much more than listening to the classic studio versions, always fresh thanks to the eternal passages between radio and television, or from home listening of the black album, present as it is in every rock enthusiast’s home or almost.
About the cover: instead of black, it’s white, and it’s a gem, representing the final sketch before its realization by its designer and creator Storm Thorgerson, a genius himself. However, the concert honored by this album seems never to have been heard: it appears it circulated in its time in bootlegs (certainly not with the sonic quality present here), and then, recently, ended up along with a lot of other stuff in one of those massive Pharaoh-like box sets costing hundreds of euros, the ones with at least a dozen discs inside.
A thousand years from now, these music and lyrics will still be performed, if desired in the same theaters and auditoriums where the day before there might have been an evening in honor of Mozart and the day after one dedicated to Chopin… immortal art of the twentieth century alongside other immortalities of other centuries. Amen.
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