A Retrospective “This Is Not A Drill” Tour Review: The Two Sides of Roger Waters

I have been a huge fan of Pink Floyd for a long time, ever since I first slid Piper at the Gates of Dawn into my cd player, and was charmed by the band’s spaceman fairy tales. It used to be that Pink Floyd were a tale of two bands – pre and post Syd Barrett, their doomed original lead singer and songwriter.

Syd fell to psychedelic-induced mental illness and Roger Waters took over main songwriting duties. Instead of the band being led by Syd physically, they became a band led by Syd psychically. Syd became one of the behemoths of Water’s inspiration, with Wish You Were Here‘s ‘crazy diamond’ being willed to ‘shine on’, Dark Side of the Moon, probing into life and death and insanity, sped up into a flash-before-your-eyes glorious explosion of inner-space as outer-space. Parts of The Wall declared that ‘nobody’s home’, and that Pink/Syd has a ‘favorite axe’, and he didn’t mean a cool gee-tar.

Syd and Roger as far as Pink Floyd goes, became two sides of the same very lucrative coin. The band was a hit, and let’s face it if you are going to see either Gilmour’s severely edited ‘Pink Floyd’, or Roger Waters, you don’t want to hear solo meanderings which don’t have that Pink Floyd ‘pop’ of genius, what you really want to hear is the meat and magic mushrooms of the Floyd’s glory years and the best of their output. Recently it has become a tale of two Rogers – the one who wrote the good stuff with Pink Floyd, and the raging antisemite who has outraged decency and continues on his crusade against the Jewish world population and Israel with nary a thought for his legacy or that of his bandmates.

I went to see Roger Waters play San Francisco Chase Center last September, in the first of two dates he played there. I secured the tickets when they were very first released and had them for about 18 months, so had high expectations before walking into the show. To be frank, I wish I had taken the refund. The show had originally been cancelled because of the covid lockdowns. Waters had offered refunds on the tickets, but I kept hold of mine in the hope that eventually the show would go on. I was not disappointed then, but in retrospect I am intensely saddened that what should have been a wonderful experience, listening to the music of one of the best bands of the 20th century, was marred by Water’s political piggery.

His antisemitic pronouncements have bled into the art, and even sullied the legacy of Pink Floyd the band. I am now left wondering just how ironic The Wall is when Pink/Waters hisses ‘are there any Jews in the audience tonight…get them up against the wall.’ I used to think that the Wall was an exercise in irony and satire, shining light onto the worst of humanity through exploring the Nazi hatred of everyone and everything that was not them and their twisted, evil and murderous-death-cult-policies of holocaust and torture. Now, it seems like me, and possibly many listeners and maybe even his own band mates who thought the same thing at one point in the past, have had the wool pulled over our eyes. Considering Roger’s recent outbursts, it appears more likely that the songs which are troublesome on that album are a sneaky spotlight into how the man, the myth, the legend that is, Waters really feels.

In the interim between when I first saw the show in September ’22, and right now, Waters has stepped up his antisemitic remarks and campaign to eyewateringly horrific levels. When I wrote my original review he had yet to do the Berlin dates at the Mercedes Benz arena, or his Hamburg dates. I was also still under the impression that although Roger Waters was committed to peace, he was deeply traumatized by losing his father in world war 2, and this led to his occasional horrific outbursts. I put down his behavior down to misplaced blame for his father’s death, a kind of ‘daddy died helping the Jews’ sentiment with the blame put in the wrong place, like children do. I was utterly wrong.

The show itself was a triumph musically and artistically, if politically troublesome. It is a visual treat for the most part, and the music itself, most of it from the Floyd back-pages, is expertly performed. “So ya, thought ya, might like to, go to the show? Feel that warm glow of confusion, that space cadet glow”, sings Waters in In The Flesh. But do you really?

The fact remains that if you love Pink Floyd and the music and the light show, yes, you probably do think you might like to go to the show. There is plenty of space cadet glow to entrance and entertain. The question is should you? There are numerous troublesome elements which appear to have become more pronounced over time. I did not see any Star of David on a pig, nor any image on a black pig of a straight-arm saluting man, nor did I see Anne Frank’s photograph at the San Francisco show. I had pretty good seats, though the scaffolding did obscure my view slightly at times, I saw everything perfectly well. The show had the feeling of a man who was trying to work out some things in his head, but was essentially committed towards peace. I feel duped. I feel had. I feel dirty. Water’s fooled me. Universal peace and understanding is the last thing on Water’s mind.

All photos from the San Francisco first night show…sorry for the poor quality they are about as good as I could manage from where I was sitting, without bothering other people!

When we took our seats, in the center of the top end section of the stadium I became acutely aware of the problem that performing in the round poses. Everyone wants to see Roger and the rest of the performers, and everyone in there needs to get a good look at the light and projection show, which absolutely makes This Is Not A Drill into the success it partly is. Screens beam out the performance in real time so that nobody misses out on a moment. Therefore I am quite certain that the show has evolved over time, and I did not see the full bloom of Roger’s antisemitism.

Waters knows how to build anticipation in an audience. The sight of crossed hammers with This Is Not A Drill written under them greeted the audience, being beamed in by an uncertain and sometimes fuzzed out interrupted transmission over the vast screen outside the venue making it feel as if we were going to some secret meeting of subversive minds, getting together to make plans for some rock and roll revolution of humanity. The fizz of apprehension that the nod to the Nazi’s that is the crossed hammers is, feels like a warning that the world is falling into fascism rather than any kind of fascist get-together.

The crossed hammers with the ‘This is not a drill’ text is a cheeky but brilliant nod to Magritte’s “Ceci n’est pas une pipe!” which has a picture of a pipe, with the words, this is not a pipe underneath the very obvious pipe. The reply being, “But, Magritte, that is a fucking pipe, Rene!’ (to channel Roger). Whereas, folks, this is definitely not a fucking drill, it is two fascist crossed hammers, it is Hammerstein time for humanity as a whole, and to break it down in the other sense of the word, things have just got real, baby. Life ain’t no rehearsal, and the doomsday clock is ticking us ever closer to ultimate destruction. At the time I took it as a warning, an ironic use of the symbology. In retrospect I suspect I am not the kind of person Roger would want at his shows, and feel like I was in some kind of danger.

Roger writes politically. It is what he does, and I’ll say right now, though I knew me and the Rog disagreed on a few things and at times his stance infuriated me, I thought we agreed on a whole lot more. Again, I was wrong, and if anyone reading this is still under the misapprehension that Waters is merely a peacenik who is devoted to peace at all costs, I would urge you to also reconsider.

Roger is at war with the Jewish people, with Israel and with decency. I love Pink Floyd. As a critic I cannot deny that Waters has a unique and powerful creative vision and that the man used to be able to write a song. I thought that Rog hadn’t given up on the 60s dream: that he was still trying to save the world through Rock and Roll, the only trouble is he is trying to save part of the world and destroy the part that is Jewish. It has become clear that Roger is not committed to universal peace and kindness for all and total-love and absolute non-violence. The ‘dream’ that Waters is ‘holding onto’ as he sings in The Final Cut, is not that of an idealist with his head obscured by a pillow of clouds, instead it is one of a man who has allowed himself to be swayed by the politics of hate, a man who hides under the umbrella of irony, whose mask has increasingly dropped over time, until even the US State Department denounced him, quite and absolutely rightly, as a raging antisemite. ( https://www.timesofisrael.com/us-denounces-roger-waters-performance-in-berlin-as-antisemitic/ )

The Roger of the 1970s was still that ultimate hippy child, who always did see the wolf knocking at the door, and started to warn us all in the 70s that the ‘Lunatics (were) on the grass’, trying to cut all us little people up into lamb chops, to mix my album metaphors. He used to rail against “The Man”, the “Dogs” and “Pigs” and the stupidity of the “Sheep” that let themselves be led to the slaughter. Over time he has fallen for that old antisemetic trope that the Jewish people are “The Man”, and has pointed his vast anger at society towards the Jewish people, blaming them for everything, and man, is it disgusting.

In September he played plenty of material from both Animals and Dark Side of the Moon. In fact Roger played for 2 and 3/4 hours. Track after almost perfect track, stunningly presented, very well played and almost proving who Pink was this whole damn time. It was Rog, unfortunately Pink forgot there was also the “Floyd” part of the equation, and he did not write all that great stuff utterly alone.

So you see, my avid reader, that Pink ‘is not well’ he is back at the ‘hotel’ of the past, and he is playing with a ‘surrogate band’ now and the tunes he is now playing are sullied, and torn and ruined by his hatred and his fucked up vision of the world through the eyes of a man who has fallen prey to the oldest hatred of all – that of the Jewish people. He has become that which he portrayed in The Wall, and it ain’t no joke nor is it ironic. It’s almost fitting that Pink became the utterly worst version of himself. The egomanic with an axe.

Now for the show… This is a review of the show I saw, before those really troublesome comments and youtube videos, before he went to Germany and flew a black pig with a star of David on the side of it, missing any other religious symbol, and before he put Anne Frank’s face up on a screen desecrating the memory of her beautiful soul and her superhuman struggle to survive.

As far as the performance goes, it is more than good, though it is not Pink Floyd. Water’s without the rest of the band can play the Floyd output perfectly well. It is missing Gilmour’s voice and guitar, and Mason’s drums, but Waters tries to reproduce that Floyd sound.

To be frank Roger’s band is the best Floyd tribute band you will ever hear.

Heck, Waters even have a new guitarist and singer of Money, whose name is also David. The fact is the New David’s guitar work is not as luscious as Dave “Killer” Gilmour’s, it is a bit too perfect a little too derivative, but he does a fine job, just without the flying-by-the-seat-of-his-pants glory of Gilmour and a guitar. With Gilmour there is always something new, some new twist, a little flight of fancy to carry your interest. Surrogate-Dave is more than serviceable, yet he is missing that special ingredient x. The New Dave doesn’t go off the beaten track and improvise like Old David does, but that is a good thing in this context – he cannot ‘be’ Gilmour and people love the albums. They want to hear it like it is on the album, not feel sad because their favorite song sounds different when a tribute band plays it. We need that soaring arpeggio. The audience thirsts to hear the songs that are part of their life, their social awareness, their friends, their comfort, exactly how they are on the albums, and for the most part, Roger gives us fans and acolytes exactly what our hearts desire – a pale pink, but serviceable facsimile of the Pink Floyd experience.

The show starts with a cross shaped projection screen set up in the center of a cross shaped stage. The screens are down, and Roger is invisible. I have to admit as Comfortably Numb started to play I felt like I had been stiffed, like I had been conned. I came to see Roger, not a movie on a screen. I came to see the band, I came to see Waters perform and there he was….behind a wall.

Halfway through a literally thunderous, explosive and unsuccessful version of Comfortably Numb, that made me uncomfortable to say the least I finally realized what Rog was up to. We last really saw Waters perform a stadium show in The Wall days, and Roger was starting off from that point carrying on from he left off behind a wall. Comfortably Numb, from that album was performed from behind a wall, and Roger was giving us that experience, with the projection screens showing beautiful but disturbing images, the song turning into a lost dreamscape of danger in the skies.

Comfortably Numb, arguably, is his most popular song, and I get the distinct impression that Roger gets it out the way first because he really does not enjoy doing it. He changes it considerably, it is sung mostly by the backing singers, who do a great job, but it is not the song from the album and it is not Waters. It is a Waters temper tantrum at having to play the song the fans long to hear and that he is sick and tired of playing. To be frank it was mean spirited and ugly. Comfortably Numb is sacrificed in order to get the audience engaged and hungering for connection from behind our walls, and what better sacrifice than the song that just about every person in the room was longing to hear. In comparison the rest of the show sounded great. Perhaps Water’s wanted to reduce our expectations so the rest of the show sounded, in comparison, a little better than it actually was.

As human beings we do not like being shut off from others. Walls make us uncomfortable, the very opposite of comfortably numb, more acutely aware that we are on the outside and we can’t even look in. So the show started, and I wondered if Rog was going to perform the entire thing from behind his wall, separated from the audience, giving us the finger for not listening to him all those years ago in the 70s when albums like the masterpiece, Animals, told us listeners we were on the path to destruction, to an Orwellian nightmare. Then the projectors started to lift, the wall was raised and the man was standing right there. Victorious.

Roger was on the run, and was clearly trying to prove he WAS Pink Floyd from the outset. Ever the egotist, he was only part of that equation, but is still trying to force the idea that he was the entire band and the rest of them just a random bunch of schmucks that happened to be there at the time. That is far from the truth, as his absolutely terrible post-Floyd output and unlistenable solo work proves. Waters without the rest of the band is self indulgent and bloated and the show fell foul to his greater excesses of ego.

The Bar is Waters’ metaphor for communication and social interaction. He talked (or lectured, huh, Rog?) at length about this concept of everyone needing to be welcome at the bar, so we can all understand each other and get along. I could get behind this philosophy of talking not fighting, except for the fact that his motormouth youtube clips have made it clear that he does not consider Jewish people to be worthy of a seat at the bar to talk things through. Roger is an absolutist.

His new song, “The Bar” sounded like a Final Cut outtake, and would have ended up on the cutting room floor 40 years ago, but now, it is as good as anything he has done solo. The rest of his solo work sounded better live with the energy of an audience than it ever does in the brutality of a living room on a stereo with no lights and performance to distract from their huge failings.

Those who do not want to listen to Roger’s politics were told by Rog before the show started, to ‘fuck off to the bar’ (where’s the fucking bar, John?!). In retrospect I think the clever Rog was trying to tell those who ‘like his music but hate his politics, to go talk to others and get some empathy and love going for their fellow humans. I might be wrong. I think I was. Or he might just want us to fuck off, it is Roger after all. The tickets were a gift and I was not about to ‘fuck off’ because I disagree with Roger. This is indicative of Roger’s duplicity. The two sides of Waters – he declares he wants to discuss things at the bar, as equals, and then tells you to ‘fuck off’ if you don’t agree with him.

If Roger had not started off behind his cross shaped wall/projector system The Bar would not have had such an impact. We started off with a huge song, a wide ranging song about IV opiate drugs being used to calm down a nervous rock star about to go on stage, that star being either Roger or Syd, depending on who you believe. Just a little pin prick, sings Roger, you may feel a little sick, in a knowing little nod to opiate nausea, then comes that isolated shining soaring guitar. In retrospect the show made me feel more than a little sick.

When Roger appears from behind his wall, it not broken down, but raised above him, ready to get back in place when he needs it, in a clear growth for Roger as a human being, and he gets down to that piano and starts to sing “Does everybody in the bar feel pain? Yes, sure they do.” Roger might like to listen to himself one day, he might learn something important. The song is a Final Cut-esque hymnal to loving our fellow man, to those that are treated unfairly or shut out of society, or simply fail to thrive in this Capitalist Piggish nightmare. The pigs are all dancing on our suffering, and Roger is brave enough to project that dancing fat pig in all his finery right onto his wall. If that Pig was, as I first thought, as I thought at the time, a representation of all that is wrong with society as a whole, then it is a brave image of calling out inhumanity and capitalist excesses. . . now realizing that Rog is conflating ‘pigs’ with ‘Jewish people’ and Israel, it is horrifically offensive, especially considering that the pig is treif, dirty, in the Jewish faith.

Anyone who was remaining in the hall after that point, who had not fucked off to the bar to escape Roger’s politics, was then treated to wall to wall Pink Floyd. Roger loves to swear. His battle cry of “Fuck me!” is more a lament than an exhortation. I wonder if American resident Roger understands that it is not common yankee vernacular and that he could get himself in all kinds of trouble. Especially considering the once absolutely disgustingly unattractive horse faced Rog of his youth has apparently turned into Richard Gear with better hair than the once pin up sex symbol. Rog is the only man in history to look better at 79 than he did at 19. It is a shame he is such a vile human being.

It became apparent that Roger was going to have his say, both in the little snippets of Pink Floyd history and lore that he projects up on the screen in terms of photographs of him and Syd, Nick Mason and Richard Wright, but few of Gilmour, his nemesis…and also in Pink Floyd folk lore stories told in words.

The recounting of how Syd Barrett and Roger, when they were still at school together, went to see Gene Vincent, with the Rolling Stones on the bill too, and afterwards on the train home, decided that when they were in college they were going to start up a band, firmly fixed Pink Floyd as Waters’ band. He was there when the two creative geniuses behind Pink Floyd – Roger Waters and Barrett, created the proto band. He was there when it became Pink Floyd. He is one of the two original members of that proto band of him and Syd, who are alive today. Only Roger and Mason remain of the original Pink Floyd. Gilmour was invited to join after Barrett had his nervous breakdown caused by heavy use of LSD, as second choice to Jeff Beck who turned them down. This is more Waters egotism, though interesting enough. The fact is without Gilmour and Wright and Mason, and even without Syd, there was no Pink Floyd and there would have been none of the truly superlative material without the rest of the band, however much Roger believes it to be the case.

Much of the show is an absolutely gorgeous tour through the very best of the Pink Floyd material. The light show is impeccable, from the prism projections, to the cages made out of light beams, and an audience flooded with red light, the inflatable sheep floating in an amniotic-like red glow. Roger gave us inflatables, both a pig and a sheep, introducing them with a sweep of his arm, and a grin on his face. Roger is the consummate show man. He sells his vision for a better society not with popcorn but with inflatables, stunning light and projection shows, and the best band he could put together. The saxophonist is capable and has flair, New Dave (Kilminster) is not as good as the old Dave and though he sings a wicked Money, he is no more than a good tribute act. The back up singers are both very talented, and the drummer does his job without getting in the way. Nick Mason as flair, Roger’s new drummer is merely competent.

The show is immensely political. Roger hates anyone who disagrees with him and does so with bile and huge energy.

The show was totally immersive, drawing us into Roger’s vision, after shutting us out for the first track. Looking round the audience, who were applauding the words that flashed up on the screen saying things like “Fuck the Patriarchy”, and “Protect Reproductive Rights”, and “Free Julian Assange” in an act of telling each other and Roger that there was that grok, that copacetic meshing of wanting things to be better, and that not everyone wanted the world to burn.

So, yes Roger talks…and he likes to talk. I enjoy sitting at the bar with Rog and putting the world to rights. He kept saying ‘I will stop now..’, unfortunately he never did. He said far too much, but in a way it is a good thing that Roger Waters let the world know who he really is – a man who hid behind a wall of irony, whilst meaning every single red crossed hammer banner of it all, every long black leather coated fascist machine gun fake bullet. He meant every insulting star of David on every pig. He meant every straight armed salute. He meant every word of his antisemitism. He meant every slur and every denial. As the red banners fell a shiver of fear ran up my back. Some cheered. I cowered. I am not religious, but my heritage leads me to cower and feel fear. The crowd became energized for the main part as the Hammerstein part of the show kicked in. I used to think it was irony, a warning not to go there again, now it feels more like a celebration of something dark and evil and very wrong.

At the time I thought that something very special happened in San Francisco. I thought that Roger had found some of his people, those that wanted dialogue and peace. In retrospect, perhaps he did find some of his people, but they were not the ones devoted to peace and love and the hippy dream. I feel betrayed by a band that I have spent so many years of my life loving and listening to. I can only imagine how betrayed and hurt Pink Floyd must feel after realizing that they participated in Roger Waters’ ‘post war dream’ and that is was not one of peace, but one of prejudice and hatred and antisemitism. I feel really sorry for Gilmour and Mason, who have been very vocal in their criticism of Waters and his later years fall into disgrace and hatred.

That Pink Floyd material is still beautiful, even if its legacy has been sullied. I have seen Nirvana at a huge show, I saw Dylan and I saw Suzanne Vega. I’ve seen punk bands in CBGBs and jazz acts in NYC. It is not as if I have never seen any live shows, but I have never left a show feeling so inspired, so impressed, so moved. I had tears in my eye as he played Wish You Were Here. Let me let you into a secret. You see the very best writing and art makes you feel as if it is just for you, or even better, that you identify with it so totally, that it feels like your words, your song, your life that the artist is illustrating. The fact that it felt as if Roger was singing to me, to my longings for people I have lost, is a testament to Pink Floyd, and the beauty of their glory years output. This is the reason I loved the show so much, for the first part, when I first saw it – it spoke to my personal past, just as it speaks to any Floyd fan’s personal history with this band we have loved so dearly. Roger is doing something terrible by ruining Floyd’s music with his politics of hatred and death-worship.

There were two encores, Two Suns In The Sunset, which is one of my favorite Pink Floyd songs, and was done very well, and a sweet song to his wife Camile. The latter is not just inspired by Dylan, but something that approached more of an impression of the great (possibly messianic, but still Jewish) superbrain. How dare Roger do that, I do not know. It was something that should have been kept private between Roger and his new wife, and had me cringing. Two Suns is a lush yearning number, detailing the moment of Armageddon, and the defeatedness of it all. There are no winners in a nuclear war. I wish Roger could reclaim his past pacifism. The litany of wrongful killings, murders and political and racially based assassinations flashing up on the screen were carefully curated to push Water’s agenda instead of general pacifism.

We have become so numb to the death and the suffering, and sometimes we need a poet to wake us up and make us outraged and devastated once again. I thought Roger was one of these souls – I was wrong. I thought Roger cared about every child not just the ones he decides are worthy. This whole crazy world is just too frustrating, to quote Barry McGuire in his song Eve of Destruction. Roger echoes his words in The Bar, singing,

Does everybody in the bar feel shame? / Lord knows I do/ I guess we all feel pretty much the same / Kind of worn out by this crazy fucking zoo.

The Pow R. Toc. H Waters needs to take some of his own medicine and listen to his own words and wake up from this fever dream to his own inhumanity and cruelty, but I fear that he is incapable of feeling such shame or a decent thought not colored by his hatred any longer.

The Famous Prism

Now the mundane bad. My view was quite badly restricted by the scaffolding for the projection system. I did not pay for a restricted view ticket, nor was it marked as such. I could not totally see the projections, which were vital to be able to read and see in order to take part in the full experience. Nor could I see Roger very well at times, even when he was on my side of the stage, my view blocked by the scaffolding for the projector system. He does pull off the performance in the round thing, giving equal time to each of the four segments, and everything is professional and polished, but I would have liked the opportunity to choose a ticket that did not have a blocked view. My friend certainly paid enough for the ticket to be warned of having an obscured view.

Secondly, we and a lot of other people were almost not let in by The Chase Center. We had our tickets downloaded onto Google Pay and up on the phone, on Ticketmaster, they were in my name, and I had ID. The tickets were valid, but bought before the show was cancelled and re-scheduled. I do not know if this was the issue. But there were a lot of people not being let in, and we all had to line up and wait for them to fix the issue, we were never told. We were there at the time the doors opened at 7pm, at the very front of the line and only finally were let in, due to their fuck up, just before 8pm. I had a very disappointed Boy, and I was beyond stressed. I was hoping to buy some popcorn, perhaps a couple of bottles of water, but instead had to line up and let them fiddle with my phone until they finally fixed it. This was a problem for hundreds of people at the show.

So much for contactless entry. About 3 different people had my phone in their hands, my ID, and I really dislike people playing with my phone from a sanitary point of view. The tickets should have been swiped and we should have been allowed in without ID. Those whose tickets worked did not need ID. The crowd was pretty drunk and pretty angry by the time the issue was fixed. The issue was with paper tickets as well as electronic ones. It really made the experience much less fun to start with, but Roger was absolutely amazing, so it really is not the end of the world. This was a Chase Center issue, not Roger’s problem, after all, but an apology would have been nice.

I also have to say the constant recording of the show on cell phones is very unfair. So was the smoking of vape pens inside the concert hall/performance area. I took a few photos, but quickly put my phone down. It really does spoil it for others. I also had to sit next to a very handsy drunk French speaking gentleman who kept on touching my arm and leg, who I had to eventually tell not to not touch me again. I’ll echo Syd’s words to Roger Waters as they drove down Hollywood and Vine in California, “Las Vegas is nice, innit….PEOPLE”. Yeah, Syd. People.

But I digress. Somehow Waters put on a lavish show, but still a pale facsimile of a Floyd experience. At the time I felt as if Roger still wanted peace, though was left with a sense of unease, as if I had walked into the heart of something that was not meant for me, something dangerous. In retrospect, after the shine of the laser show and the beauty of sharing live music with my son has faded, I am left feeling as if I spent time “banging (my) head on some mad bugger’s wall.” And that is all this is, really – a few hours spent entranced and fearful of an old man’s walls and mental fuck ups and hang ups and immense egotism. It is enjoyable for a while in some ways, and Roger certainly put on a show that qualifies as the best of the Floyd tribute bands, but he will never BE PINK FLOYD, like he believes he is and was.

I only went to the San Francisco show, but from what I have seen of the later shows, the antisemitic imagery appears to have been stepped up and the inflatables altered to reflect that. He was certainly beyond the pale in the home of the Nazi history in Germany. All I would say is go look at his youtube videos and twitter before you buy a ticket to go see his show, and go knowing that Waters is promoting politics of hatred, under a sheep’s disguise of peace-devotion and geopolitical awareness. I feel ashamed that I fell for Water’s schtick. It is problematic to love Pink Floyd so much and then to have to deal with who Waters has become.

My original review and my update caused me to receive a lot of antisemitic hate mail and abuse to my blog. Roger attracts some vile fans nowadays. Therefore I will not be allowing comments on this review and any hate mail I do receive will be reported to the proper channels. It is a measure of the hated and fury that Waters is stirring up that it inspires such nastiness.

The show was well produced and Roger can still play that old Floyd material, but it is a dirty high, a sullied enjoyment, and to be frank, as much as I wanted to hear the Floyd material, I wish I had not gone. I suspect any decent person will feel the same way about the experience. Go put on Wish You Were Here instead and honor the band while they were still something to admire.

Music – 8.5/10 Possibly the best Floyd Tribute band you will ever see.