Liverpool Sound and Vision rating * * * * *
Ian Cattell of Brit Floyd, M & S Arena, Liverpool. February 2019. Photograph by Ian D. Hall.
The zeitgeist can often be over rated, its meaning shrouded in a warped sense of nostalgia as we attempt to put our fingers on a pulse that stopped beating when we were no longer paying attention. We search in vain, we grasp the remnants of what made us tick to the clock buzzing inside our minds and we see Time as a complete picture, and not the fragmented illusion that it is, one in which we attempt to place the jigsaw pieces back together, seeing an all-embracing, beautiful sunset, not realising that the picture on the front of the box is actually one that bears no resemblance to what we remember.
The zeitgeist’s memory though sometimes is astute, it confirms in detail what you believe, offers full marks and a rounded A+ for what a certain moment managed to achieve, not only in your life but the effect of seismic ripples in the world.
It could be argued that without Roger Waters spitting at a fan who had attempted to reach out beyond the stage line and conceiving the idea of The Wall from that moment of theatrical violation, then 40 years down the line the fans would not be celebrating something monumental; it could also be argued that Pink Floyd themselves might have remained one of the more fascinating Progressive Rock bands of the period, but they might never have truly hit the height of absolute incineration and immortality.
It is in the capturing of a moment that an audience made their way to the arena by the Mersey River and gave thanks in time to Time itself, to memory enhanced word for word and the searing guitar solo, mournful, destructive, aided by the sound of a vocal wretched in torment, sweet as an angel’s sigh of contentment. For as Brit Floyd took the intimate crowd down passages of reminiscence, 40 years of The Wall suddenly felt as if it was yesterday, that the urge to be angry at the post war world was an inalienable right, that for Generation X who absorbed and espoused the mantra of the dispossessed spirit, of alienation, of guilt and sexual imagery that the album inspired, anger was a virtue, to rally against authority a pleasurable stamp of morality against the sweeping tide of dogma.
Brit Floyd certainly understand the dogma, they weave their way through a set of songs that holds that spirit up like a flame upon a sword held by a giant, but they also pay it the respect without being overawed by the past; and it is a difficult past in which to stand side by side, let alone in the shadows of. Even without the anniversary of The Wall coming on the 30th November, there is still a show that must tend to the forgotten live needs of arguably one of the finest bands to ever grace the shores of Britain.
As Damian Darlington, Ian Cattell, Edo Scordu and the rest of the expressive carriers of music strode their way through songs such as On Thin Ice, The Happiest Days Of Our Lives, Mother, Empty Spaces, Young Lust, Another Brick In The Wall (Part 2) and Hey You were joined by other outstandingly performed tracks such as Time, The Great Gig In The Sky and Shine On You Crazy Diamond, the sound was to be considered astronomical, a joy of performance which was spiritually overwhelming.
A night in which Brit Floyd arguably framed and matched their heroes perfectly, astounding to the ears, glorious to the soul; 40 years is nothing in the sense of the universe, but to those of a certain disposition in life, it is the capturing of the zeitgeist in its anarchic, persuasive, and ground-breaking form. A night which only adds to the mystique of one of the best-selling, and much-loved albums of all time.
Ian D. Hall