Reviews

We know that David Gilmour’s guitar playing has the power to move people; his guitar solo in ‘Comfortably Numb’ for example, is wrought with such soaring emotion, that it is widely regarded as being the best rock guitar solo of all time. We also know that Gilmour’s place in rock history is also assured; his contributions to Pink Floyd have seen to that. We also know that Gilmour, when not writing or performing himself, has helped many gain a foothold in the music industry (just ask Kate Bush). So, the bottom line is – Gilmour is a musical heavyweight in every sense of the word. With such a reputation there is expectation that what is released under the Gilmour name will continue the high standards that Gilmour has set for himself.

So the irony is that if we judge this new solo album On An Island (the first since About Face in 1984) in light of that musical legacy, we are disappointed to say the least. If we, instead, decide to simply ignore Gilmour’s past achievements and judge this album solely on its merits then there is even less reason why this new album deserves your attention.

Sure, there are flashes of brilliance on this new album. The instrumental ‘Castellorizon’ shimmers with Gilmour’s guitar lifting the finale into sublime perfection. This is followed by ‘On An Island’ and ‘The Blue’, both tracks convincing in their appeal, with Gilmour’s vocals never sounding better. But such a strong start is not matched by the rest of the album. There is a lack of consistency here. From the redundant ‘Red Sky At Night’, to the languid finale ‘Where We Start’, this album seems almost forgettable at times. Lacking in much vitality, Gilmour plods from one song to the next. Recorded in four different locations, On An Island sounds very much like an album that was pieced together over a period of time, with no singular vision. There is no unified whole here, just an obvious sense of fragmentation in the songs that made it on the album.

At the end of the day, credit must go to Gilmour for following his own heart and for producing an album with impeccable production values. But this album is for him. He has obviously enjoyed making the kind of music he wants to make, but the end result is an album only for the seriously committed fan (who will support any release of Gilmour’s anyway). The musicianship is there, Gilmour’s signature guitar work is there, Gilmour’s familiar voice is there; everything seems to be in place except the material. Gilmour needs stronger vehicles for his talents. After all, we know that Gilmour has the ability to move us, so when he doesn’t we must recognize that something hasn’t quite worked.