…there was indeed the sense that we were getting a rare glimpse of one of a half-dozen or fewer true guitar giants left roaming the land. It's undeniable that, post-Waters, Gilmour hasn't really found a worthy bed for his skills. But even on lesser material, arguably, no other ax-slinger in rock did or does combine proficiency, soulfulness, emotiveness, and the very rare quality of economy as deftly. Who's gonna fill his shoes? John Mayer? Jack White? We get uncomfortably numb just thinking about it. Entertainment Weekly
With my anticipation and expectations reaching new heights, I followed the link at Big Screen Concerts and punched in my AMEX Card number and promptly reserved my seat.
For one night, on May 16, 2006, the Gilmour film would play in two Regal Cinema theaters in San Diego. I chose the UA theaters in downtown San Diego's kitsch Horton Plaza. This choice was marred by either Regal's or Big Screen Concerts’ decision to show the 75-minute film in a theatre marred with poor sound quality and a distracting and irritating rectangular blue halo seemingly over-projected onto the film — a far cry from the high-def and surround sound some sources promised. I hope and imagine anyone attending one of the other 101 screenings across the country last night saw the film in its proper glory.
The film opens with Gilmour discussing his early 1900's houseboat, Astoria, which he has meticulously converted into a first-class, high-tech recording studio and where much of Gilmour's recent CD On An Island was recorded. The film cuts between Gilmour interviewed on a well-worn leather sofa in the boat’s office, footage shot during the recording of On An Island on the boat, and in Abbey Road Studios where additional space was required to record a full orchestra.
Gilmour candidly tells us that he was due to record a new album as he hadn't "recorded a proper album" in more than ten years, and to get it done he needed prodding from fellow and ex-Roxy Music guitarist Phil Manzanera who also served as his co-producer on the album. He further admits that when it comes to lyrics, he is strained and finds it very difficult. While his wife Polly pens most of the simple and lacking lyrics of On An Island, the album suffers from the same lack of angst, energy, and creativity that plagued each of the post-Waters Floyd efforts Momentary Lapse of Reason and Division Bell. To be fair, what all three records lack lyrically is mostly equalized by phenomenal trademark Gilmour melodies and guitar work.
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