There are very few bands that could get out with only being quite simply, a cover band and have a calling out of it. To force this off for the long haul, the original band has to be kaput, with no opportunity for any sort of a reunion. The cover band has to acknowledge the songs top to bottom and be willing to act said songs dark after night after night with the same enthusiasm as if they had created them from scratch.
It might be a tough pill to withdraw for a musician who may need to break from the chrysalis. In other words, you make to know the band, the music, the fans, the stark force of a caption to be capable to pass the best piece of your life pretty much being somebody else.
The Pink Floyd of yore is frequently spoken of in the hushed worshipful tones of martyrs. Roger Waters spilled his inner turmoiled guts out for The Wallwhile Syd Barrett laid bare his tortured psyche before the delusions of his brain took over and he ran for the country between four walls. How does one copy the angst, the absolute surrealism, of Dark Side of the Moon? How do you get the life of "Comfortably Numb" and the cynicism of "Money"? Do you become Waters or Barrett? Or can you just turning them off once you have walked off a stage, like an actor in a Broadway play.
Walking into the atmosphere of a Pink Floyd Experience show creates a lot of hope. The gang is stirring around in expectancy of moody prozac moment illusions, of lights and lasers flashing in hypnotic rhythms, of a pink curly-tailed pig flying above their heads. All these factors may be decent to have them consider that this IS Pink Floyd and not someone pretending to BE Pink Floyd. You may kid yourself that these guys are the actual deal but reality will occur and you will eventually realize you`re good at a glorified light show like the ones you tripped at stake in college.
However, that said, give these guys their due. It is not easy being Pink Floyd. David Gilmour is a guitarist of unequaled expertise and stressful to duplicate intricate machinations with the fingers is not to be taken lightly. You get to find the medicine to be the music. And the Pink Floyd Experience has done a spritely job of weaving you into its British hallucinogenic lair _ for a few hours, at least.
This PFE tour is focus on the 1977 album Animals. With but five songs, three of which swirl over ten minutes each, some in the crew were acquiring a bit anxious for something they knew much better, like "Another Brick In The Wall" and "Money", which would eventually fall to roaring cheers. But if Pink Floyd was anything, they were cerebral. Ditties were not necessarily in their quadrant. Their music flowed with an inertia of almost biblical proportions. You sit and dream, not know your mind and scream.
This band, all talented musicians, created a head trip world by starting out with the aforementioned album: "Pigs On The Wing 1", "Dogs", "Pigs", "Sheep" and "Pigs On The Wing 2". Then started vividly springing to living with such classics as "Learning To Fly", "Have A Cigar", "Run Like Hell" and "Money". Those in attendance loved it. And at the end when the proverbial piggie took flight high above their heads, you would take thinking that a large Greek God was in their presence.
I will say this much: we have forgotten what its care to be intellectually stimulated by music. Bands in the vein of Pink Floyd have become almost obsolete in this maddening world of Gaga pop. We wish to be spoon fed fluff that causes our hips to rock and our minds to round off. Thus going to see something like this point is most like attending a year at Oxford where the professor spellbinds you with knowledge. We get to keep bands like Pink Floyd alive. They are our stem cells. And so while Pink Floyd is no more, the Pink Floyd Experience is here to fill that void _ for the sentence being.
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