Monday, November 22, 2010

So ya, thought ya, might like to go to the show...

And what a show it was. More of a spectacle really. Released in 1979, The Wall has stood the test of time and even though the current iteration is sans Gilmour, Wright (RIP) and Mason, it was still an aural and visual tour de force. Disenfranchised from the other two, Roger Waters looks and sounds well for a 67 year old and when announced earlier this year, I was counting the days until Nov 21.


The American Airlines Center (home to the Dallas Mavericks and Stars) was sold out. Our seats were poor, literally up in the rafters. However, as the usher said, "at least you are in the house". The sound was absolutely perfect. The visuals effects projected on to the wall were awesome. The various puppets that came out on cue were very cool: the schoolmaster, Pink's mother, his wife and of course, an inflatible pig that made the rounds. Oh and the WW2 fighter plane that swoops in over the audience and crashed spectacularly at the end of In the Flesh. It was pure rock theater at its best. Waters interacted ocassionally with crowd but there were no surprises.

It is very much a scripted production with no variation night to night. There is so much equipment and special effects it is amazing they were able to set up again within 24 hours of the Houston show. Two sets perhaps? I took lots of pics and video but while the sound is good, the video is poor, such was our seats. If I had the choice again, I would have definitely paid more for better seats.


INTERMISSION (with those killed in war / terrorism)



Best part: when the hotel room popped put of the wall for Nobody Home, followed by the images on the wall for Vera / Bring the Boys Back Home. See here for yourself:

Not my video of course...

I would have to give the whole shebang a solid 10 out of 10. It really belongs on Broadway, or Vegas.

A parting anecdote. I remember in 1986 living in South Jamaica, Queens. This was before Mayor Giuliani cleaned up the city; NYC was akin to Beirut. Google "Larry Davis", or watch "Do the Right Thing". South Jamaica was as close to the crack epicenter of NYC as you could get and I may have been the only white kid for miles. One hot afternoon I was at a payphone (a what? you say) fumbling with change and I had a Pink Floyd / The Wall t-shirt on. An old black man (he was probably only 40) under the influence of something staggered up and after surveying my shirt (I expected to be robbed) chuckled "Michael Jackson, off the The Wall". He wobbled off, probably thinking I was one strange cat but if I was a fan of Michael, I must be okay. That was the day Roger Waters saved my life.

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