By Chris Welch

Roger Waters scored a significant victory when he played the first of two sell-out shows at London's Wembley Arena. If there was any doubt about whether British fans would rally to his cause, it was dispelled by the wall of cheering that greeted Roger's massive, spectacular show.

"I always thought you were Pink Floyd," said a fan, through the unique phone-in idea, that gave members of the audience a chance to communicate directly to the star on stage. The phone link was just one of a barrage of ideas, images and concepts that blitzed us until the senses were reeling. If Roger was going to get even with Pink Floyd for going on the road without him, then he did it in most spectacular fashion, fighting fire with fire.

But Roger, being Roger, was very cool about the whole thing, and if he betrayed any nerves or doubts, it came only as he took the phone calls, fending off questions about his political ambitions (none) and personal feelings. The real answers to the way Waters feels about life and rock 'n' roll came in the cold fury of the lyrics, the blazing images of war, want and waste on the huge globular screen, and the blasting performance of his ironically named Bleeding Hearts Band.

Going for the jugular, Roger castigated those who sell arms, fuel international conflicts and bring ever nearer the threat of nuclear annihilation. "The Powers That Be" were generally blamed for our ills, and a rogues' gallery of world leaders was flashed on the screen. We also saw starving children, and this sometimes rested uneasily with the spectacle of a rock 'n' roll band blasting away beneath them. But the grand climax of the show, a simulated nuclear attack done with a blend of sound and film was quite extraordinarily effective. There was almost an embarrassment of riches... Pink Floyd classics, songs from "Radio K.A.O.S." Roger's solo albums, sometimes it was difficult to make the connection between all these and the somewhat complex story of Billy the Welsh kid who turns into an electronic metaphysical being, hacking into satellite communications and bringing Armageddon in his wake. But as Jim Ladd, the real-life US DJ running the on-stage radio studio announced: "Wembley, I give you the words and music of Roger Waters," and that was it, an outpouring of a lifetime's work.

The band, Graham Broad (drums), Paul Carrack (vocals), Mel Collins (sax), Jay Stapley and Andy Fairweather Low (guitars), locked together as a very powerful team and were able to cope with the huge range of moods, not to mention the complex fade-outs and cues necessary to work with the DJ and the projection. Roger, in dark glasses and suit, bestrode his bass like a CIA agent working as a mole for CND as he hammered into "Welcome To the Machine," with its sonorous bass lines.

One of the most poignant moments was the screening of an extremely rare 'promo' film of "Arnold Layne" with the founder members of Pink Floyd fooling around on the beach, but it was the more recent themes like "Another Brick In The Wall," and "The Tide Is Turning," which insinuated into the subconscious and kept buzzing around in the brain long after the final encores. From the flashing green computer messages to the rumbling power of "Four Minutes," from Radio KAOS, the audience were alternately hypnotized or shaken out of their seats.

It was strange... Pink Floyd never rocked out like The Bleeding Hearts, and there's no denying the drums of Graham Broad and Mel Collins' soulful sax brought a new dimension and power to Roger's music, and yet still that Floydian majesty and somber quality remained to haunt us. If waters played with the Bonzo Dog Band, the same inner tensions and angst would surface. It has to be said, even without Floyd behind him, Roger Waters gave us complete and utter KAOS.