Its mid March 1994, and here in this miserable city of San Bernardino, sixty miles east of Los Angeles California, a rumor begins to spread about a band called Pink Floyd who happen to be rehearsing nearby in an airplane hanger out at the closed Norton Airforce Base. The band can be heard after dark and are visible from the street. There was also some inflatable animal which appeared in the sky coinciding with the band's first day of rehearsal.
Well, I thought, I heard the David Gilmour Band was soon releasing an album and also touring the states, but why would they rehearse here of all places? The unwelcomed group, at least as far as I was concerned, was in fact, here in town rehearsing. A friend of mine, Gary, confirmed the fact the day after I first heard the rumor. Gary said that he had heard them playing last night outside his house (located about two miles away from the closed base) and besides, the local radio station even reported it.
"Well," I said to Gary, "Pink Floyd they're not." I went on to remind him that Roger waters was not in the band, and a Floyd without Waters is like "sex without an orgasm," in other words pretty pointless. Pink Floyd, I went on to say, in the last 11 years of their existence, from 1972 to 1983, they put out five albums, each one a conceptual masterpiece having a central story, or theme, which developed through to the end of the album. But more importantly, each one was conceived and written by Roger Waters. The voice of this brilliant lyricist can express the most emotion, anger, concern, fear, sadness, confusion, distress, and sincerity that I've ever heard in any piece of music. Once I get on a role with this subject, I can really become quite livid. Gary, being used to my rather rambunctious lectures on topics of which I have a rather passionate opinion, seemed to sense what was about to happen. He leaned back and folded his arms while giving me this 'all ears' look. Continuing, I went on to add that because of Roger's huge musical input in the band, and after 5 concept albums, how could any Pink Floyd fan even consider an album release containing 5 or 6 minute songs with silence in-between, and no real storyline or developed concept to be a Floyd album?
In all fairness, I continued, and being objective, if Roger had gone on to continue the Pink Floyd name without David, I would disagree with that also. David's guitar playing and voice are superb. I've always loved it, and in fact, I went to see his show in L.A. during the "About Face" tour, back in '84. So by no means am I minimizing David's input. And I would have continued to buy any new releases from him since, except for the fact that he had a Momentary Lapse of Reason, which continues to this day, because he began putting his stuff out under the name Pink Floyd.
As far as I'm concerned, that bands last album was "The Final Cut." In 1983, once Roger and David agreed and decided they no longer wished for Pink Floyd to go on, that's when it ended. After David's failure in 1984 to produce a good selling solo album under his own name, he admits that it's too difficult at this late stage, to start over and begin a solo career. So He makes a very lucrative offer to Nick Mason, and they decide on a money making scheme to call themselves Pink Floyd and make an album. Roger, I continued vehemently, at least has the dignity to release his music under a name which is truly his; Roger Waters. He sells his albums on the content, not the one million or more pre-orders garnered by the brand name Pink Floyd, before an album was even recorded.
It's all about money, which is why they're playing all stadiums this tour. Only maybe 5 of the audience can really see what's going on, or care, for that matter. Most of them were there for the 'event,' and know nothing of Waters' absence or even his contribution to the group.
The reality of it is this: They're up there on stage getting rich off Roger's songs. "The vulture and the magpie took the cashbox from it's hook...". After that long diatribe I needed a beer, it had gotten dark out, and I was getting too relaxed and a bit sleepy...
It was getting late by the time Gary and I had driven out to the base. We drove with our lights off and parked the car in a secluded spot. There, in the hanger open to view, were the David Gilmour band, and playing one of Roger's songs. This really pissed me off and I went into action. I left Gary, and I snuck over the fence and crawled on my stomach towards the airplane hangar Ñ unseen be the roaming guards. I somehow managed to work my way all the way to the hanger, and, like a snake only David could be proud of, I soon found my way inside. David was right there in front of me, only 15 feet away.
A real quiet segment of "Shine On..." was now being rehearsed. I reached into my pocket and grabbed the M-80 firecracker I carried, and with a flick of the flint, it was on it's way towards Gilmour's feet. He must have jumped about ten feet in the air, cause it was very noticeable. The look of utter fright on his face while in the air brought me to hysterics. Which brought the security guards to my throat, as I was dragged away. The rest of the rehearsal was canceled, as Gilmour had to return to his hotel for a new pair of pants absent of urine, Ñ yeah!! He literally pissed his pants!
Wake up!! Gary was shaking me. "Wake up! It's mourning." Whoa!! I had fallen asleep. I looked at my watch and looked up at Gary smiling, I had been dreaming. But what a great dream!!
The next evening, upon hearing David's guitar in the distance, I called up Gary and told him to be waiting for me outside his house, cause I'd be by in a few minutes to pick him up. No explanation was needed, because earlier I had told him on the phone that I was busy making a sheet message, one that read: Roger Waters, "Amused To Death" out now. Hear the true essence of Pink Floyd; Roger Waters. So after loading up my pickup truck with my home stereo speakers, I was off to the protest.
We arrived on the street nearest the chain link fence which separated the base from the road. The airplane hanger was only about 60 yards away, and the band was quite visible to us. There were about 20 cars lined along the street, and approximately 100 people gathered, or should I say scattered, around enjoying the free concert. I made our presence felt almost immediately, hanging the bed sheet on the fence and offering up a few "Booo's" and other jeers in-between songs.
Gary, quite used to my rather loud personality, was not the least bit concerned about the attention we were receiving, and he began to hook up my speakers to my car stereo. I made the rounds and was met with a combination of interest, agitation, hostility, and outright anger. Regardless of the response I was getting, I was adamant about speaking my mind. A brawl nearly ensued more than once, but being the pacifist that I am, I simply turned and walked away. If assaulted, I would surely have defended myself, but I was content on winning the dialogue or debate and leaving violence behind.
Nearly an hour later, I arrived back at the truck with Gary asking me if I had "gotten it out of my system yet"? No, I responded, "but this might help." As soon as the next break between songs occurred, I pointed the speakers toward the hanger and put in the tape, turning up the volume to peak level. "What God Wants, God Gets" roared out from the speakers. I'm sure David Gilmour heard it, because I asked Gary to walk in the opposite direction for about 60 yards, or the same distance from my truck to the hangar. He came back and reported that he could hear it real good, and that was with the speakers facing the other way, away from him.
Shortly thereafter, we decided to depart from this sorry ass excuse for Pink Floyd. Being one of my favorite tracks on the album, before leaving, I drove up and down the street with "The Bravery of Being Out of Range" cranked to full capacity. I'm sure I had achieved what I had set out to do, which was to: A.) Promote Amused To Death. B.) Let Dave know there are some true fans out there who don't buy his farce. and C.) Make others maybe ponder the fact that this band their hearing is the David Gilmour Band, because in no way can Pink Floyd exist without it's most key and creative member, Roger Waters.
After that night, any hoopla I heard around town about some band rehearsing at Norton, didn't even raise my blood pressure. All the protesting and ranting regarding David's lucrative scheme had purged itself from my mind during that night. I will no longer even validate this band by speaking of them. Of course, when someone asks me anything at all about (this so-called) Pink Floyd, I will politely either inform or remind them about Roger's importance and necessity to Floyd, and of his absence from the group. So that what they meant to say was the David Gilmour Band, or if they like, the Vulture Magpie Project.
As for Gary, well he now has become so addicted to "Amused to Death" that I'm glad the David Gilmour Band was no longer in town rehearsing, or else I think I'd be repeating our protest, only this time I'd be the one hooking up the speakers and walking the 60 yards to test their effectiveness. Looking back, the whole damn affair frankly just amuses me to death!