A man who can pull at the guitar strings and overwhelm your heart with emotions you drown in liquid which has a lone malt that makes you believe in abstract concepts called soul. David Gilmour makes guitars bend to minuscule inflections—making notes bow to his will— and your knees turn weak.
You were caught on the crossfire of childhood and stardom
Blown on the steel breeze...
The song may be a homage to Syd Barret but the lyrics to Shine On You Crazy Diamond are Gilmour’s. And I’ve grown up listening to the beauty of his words, using his descriptions like ‘fat old Sun’ in school essays and getting a mark cut for plagiarism because the ancient nun who taught us English at school was a “born Floydian” (her words!).
When you look at the band, these were such wildly different personalities. How did they come together to create such sublime music? Pink Floyd albums are what you listen to when you’re driving from the great outdoors back to the smoggy city, when you are ruminating on a life shattered by the very people who claimed to be yours, when you realise that you don’t really fit in, when you are a casual observer like TSE’s Prufrock watching “women come and go, talking of Michelangelo...”
Everyone has sung Comfortably Numb when drunk with college buddies, glasses raised in the air, spilling the liquid, uncaring about who saw your eyes running with hapless tears because you had missed the starting gun, and when you wipe away those tears at the same song playing years later at a reunion, you know everyone has that one regret about something. And then it doesn’t matter that this collective song is being sung not in a barsati in Delhi as before but in someone’s chrome and glass house in Palo Alto.
The awkwardness of spouses who won’t understand the sheer magic of those words is palpable. But then if they don’t like Pink Floyd, should they even be with you? If they don’t know how we are two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, should you be sharing your family biryani recipe with them?
A band that has inspired three generations with their song and music, broke up when I was being sent off to practice sa-ni-dha-pa-ma-ga-re-sa with all the neighbourhood kids.
All the mums were up in arms over long0haired rock stars who practically made love to their guitars on album covers (albums were hidden by older brothers who had gotten too tall for parents to confront). I cut out pictures from The Rolling Stone magazines which my cousin sent from abroad of this one guy who was just perfect: a long-haired guy who played the guitar.
My English teacher explained what it meant to not being able to breathe anymore and the lyrics sort of seeped into our beings. We were four friends who felt like we did not belong. We went from the chorusing the strong political voice of Nina Simone and the grand hope in Aretha Franklin’s music to the desolation of Is there anybody out there. Our musical journey had just become adult. Through heartbreaks and loneliness we sang songs which spoke about ‘a sin that somehow / Light is changing to shadow / And casting its shroud over all we have known/Unaware how the ranks have grown / Driven on by a heart of stone / We could find that we're all alone / In the dream of the proud…
David Gilmour’s gentle self-reflection, his silent melancholy screaming into the night also made me look at Highway To Hell, explore female rock stars and even metal. But with every grey hair that sprouted with every year brought me back to the guitar that bent notes like Beckham.
Here’s a little bit of history on Pink Floyd. The band is English, you know, and when Syd Barrett went down that spiral of self destruction, it was time for the band to re-emerge from the shadows and shine.
While I was scrambling to prepare for exams—pictures of young long-haired David Gilmour were stuck, firmly ignored, inside the Godrej cupboard—Bob Geldof showed up on the music scene and helmed one of the most incredible music concerts of our time: Live Aid.
Nicknamed ‘Global Jukebox’, it brought together bands like The Queen, Led Zepp, David Bowie, Dire Straits, Sting, Springsteen, U2, Dylan, Elton John, Madonna, Phil Collins and even Cher.
Imagine! Over a billion people heard the bands play across the world at a time before live-streaming was even a dream. Musicians flew the legendary Concorde and then took helicopters between Wembley and Madison Square. How Pink Floyd was brought back together by Bob Geldof is told nicely in the video. Imagine having to grow up and face the audience!
David Gilmour and the other band members were such showmen, they trusted the pyrotechnics and giant pigs flying to hide from the audience. But when Gilmour shows up atop the wall at the London 02 arena for the Wall concert, the fans forgive the band breakup. That version of ‘C.Numb’, as they call, it has the power to give you goosebumps after years.
The comments on the YouTube video make me feel that I may not be the only one listening to the song again and again. Is it even possible for someone who kept his long-haired picture for years would still be amazed by the same artist, in a much, much older version? You suddenly realise that the age-old myth of young, hell-raising rock ‘n’ roll stars being the only thing ever is all wrong. David Gilmour was born this day in 1946 and he’s still making guitars bend.
We are still inhabitants of the Floyd sound years and years later, we’ve made space for new fans. The stars still shine like diamonds in the sky and I am still listening to his melancholic voice and guitar. Happy Birthday, David Gilmour!
Discover the latest Business News, Sensex, and Nifty updates. Obtain Personal Finance insights, tax queries, and expert opinions on Moneycontrol or download the Moneycontrol App to stay updated!
