I wept tears of joy as Roger Waters reconstructed, and tore down the Wall in front of thousands of cross generational Pink Floyd fans that worship this lull proof, two sided, epic rock monster of a story. As we all know, “The Wall”, is a sacred album for Floyd fans and its master architect, Roger Waters who last night, turned MSG into a holy site for the rebirth of this spiritually renewed, beautifully restored, rendition of master rock theater.
All of the lifelong stoners, loners, and sober property owners made the holy pilgrimage to the Garden last night to see the resurgence of the refreshingly mellowed, well rested, reinvigorated Roger Waters that brought the most complete, heart rendering, confessional, authority challenging, psychedelically mad, psychic wounded, trip experience back to life. The ticket prices were blasphemous but how can you put a price tag on such a twilight topping, heaven portal opening performance?
They say that a divine presence rests upon the Western Wall in Israel. At the Roger Waters Wall reenactment show at Garden last night, you felt a discernable, celestial presence, pulsate through every crack in the (Wall of Rock) mounted on stage which reflected a gleaming, white, pearly gate, light that draped the stage like a heavenly blanket to keep all the grown up Floyd fan babies, comfy and warm.
You know that you just witnessed the greatest first set of all time, when a Magic Mountain size line for the bathroom forms right after it knowing that all of the hard core, faithful Wall worshipers wouldn’t dare missing a lick, verse, or special effect for the sake of relieving themselves because missing any of that heaven sent set would be like turning your back on God when he talks to you through a burning bush or in this case an English Castle, size wall. Roger Waters closed the majestic, masterful first set with Good Bye Cruel World, as a royal purple light shined on him which dwarfed his already miniature presence against the giant Wall surrounding him as he played his, farewell, f-you, swan song with heartbreakingly honest, defiance.
As I waited on line for the bathroom during intermission, I thought: Side Two, coming up which immediately transported me to my initial Wall discovering experience courtesy of Columbia Records when they shipped you a box of cassettes for the price of what it cost for a piece of Bazooka Joe Gum not knowing you were obligated to buy normal priced cassettes once your trial ended. I don’t think I’m the only one who can honestly say that if Roger just called it a night after the first set, the show still would’ve have gone down as the most spiritually connected, happiness spewing concert ever.
Of course, not every fan at this show was a lifelong loner or stoner like the guy behind me on line for the bathroom who made a comment about getting a contact high at the show after I bitched about a security guy shining a light on me when I was lighting up, instilling an unnecessary, restrictive republican right aura to what should be a blissful, buzz kill free environment. I told him that the contact high concept was a myth but effective as a useful plot device in the Cheech and Chong movie, Up in Smoke.
Prior to the show, at a bar down the block, they were playing an old David Gilmour lead, Floyd concert from the Division Bell tour which was packed with Floyd Fans who were a studious, non druggy, ultra prompt bunch that would never think of squeezing in one last toke before the show began which according to the locals was at a hard eight which came across as a demanding request for lost in time, Floyd fans but made sense considering the monumental might of this overdue, once and in a lifetime, no longer in college, can’t afford to miss, the In the Flesh, cape wearing, whip snapping, plane crashing, Roger Waters lead, heaven on earth opening event. After all, Roger Waters made it clear that he was the playing the Wall from beginning to end which is like experiencing an extended two hour, ecstasy charged orgasm to the most soul shaking, spiritually elevated soundtrack ever.
All I have to say about the second set is that it went by in this beautiful, giant flash of angel blowing light. I forgot how powerful the lyrics were to Hey You, along with the permanent chill down your spine guitar solo which made the guitar solo to Comfortably Numb sound rather tame and poppy light in comparison. As the concert geared up for the dramatic finale, the crowd yelled with divine approved, authority, tear down the walls, tear down the walls before the skyscraper size wall display exploded, and crumbled down on the stage bringing new meaning to the expression going out with a bang. Then, Roger Waters and his eleven piece crew sang some shitty, unheard of folksy song that nobody gave two shits about but he earned the right to squeeze in that farewell, love not war, hippie toned number for finally making that live Wall dream come true in such a spectacular, artful, heart wailing fashion. Now, we all love David Gilmore but the argument of whose better is dead, Roger Waters proved that last night by spilling his great guts one last time in front of Floyd followers that will forever look at MSG as the scared site, where the Wall rose from the dead like our long lost musical messiah.
Written By,
Josh Kornbluth
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