Superficially, Pink Floyd would seem to be one of the easier bands to pay tribute to: visually anonymous (I doubt even casual fans would be able to identify the members in a police line-up), their stage performances have long been dominated by state-of-the-art lighting effects and grotesque props that may still haunt the nightmares of persons of a certain age (the inflatable pig over Battersea Power Station, the manic teacher and smothering mother from The Wall; and let’s not mention the worms….). That may be the case, but the replication of the band’s sound - defined for many by the textured keyboards of Rick Wright and the soaring guitar of David Gilmour - is another matter. Brit Floyd - the brainchild of musical director Damien Darlington, who set up the current band after his departure from the Australian Pink Floyd Show in 2011 - achieved an astonishing degree of musical verisimilitude: every semi-quaver, every half-tone is present and correct and they would score an string of A pluses from even the most pedantic adjudicator.
But if you think that suggests the sterility that often accompanies ‘perfection’, you couldn’t be more wrong. Brti Floyd don’t just play the music: they inhabit it, with the zest of enthusiasts who are also tremendously capable musicians. I’m reluctant to use the cliche about closing your eyes and not being able to tell the difference between this tribute band the real thing but I fear it must apply here. Not that you’d be advised to close your eyes (unless to avoid getting dazzled by the lighting rig’s wilder moments), because the visual graphics that run throughout their two sets are definitely worthy of your attention. They are arguably as much a part of the essential Pink Floyd experience as the music.
This year being the fortieth anniversary of The Wall album (the one that saved the band from bankruptcy but sowed the sees for later divisions), the current tour set-list includes that album in virtually complete form. Now, The Wall represents a controversial chapter in the band’s history and fans are somewhat divided on its merits. I’ve always felt that, though the material is strong, its relentless pessimistic tone can wear after a while. It was a wise idea, then, for the band to interpolate sections from The Wall with sprinklings from the rest of the Floyd cannon: so, at the conclusion of a somnolent version of the bitter Mother, we were unexpectedly plunged into the ticking clocks of Time from the comparatively upbeat Dark Side Of The Moon. There were plenty of other nice surprises, with all eras of the band represented, except the early Syd Barrett one (which might have been difficult to ingratiate into the set-list, as it sounds so radical different from their ‘classic’ style). It was especially good to hear Sheep (from 1977’s nihilistic Animals) get an airing and to be reminded how funky the opening keyboard part sounds.
Darlington is backed by a superb big band that features Ian Catell on bass, sticks and trumpet, Ed Scordo on second guitar, Thomas Ashbrook and Rob Stringer on keyboards and former John Martyn drummer Arran Ahmun on drums, All play with formidable precision and commitment.
I’ll admit, I hadn’t been expeting The Wall album in its entirety and I could have easily forgiven the band for ducking out of The Trail, the penultimate track that you might think would veer too close to musical theatre for rock musicians to pull off (and I’m reminded that the Floyd’s one attempt at performing the entire album on stage was a costly disaster for them). Yet they did it magnificently - each member throwing themselves in to his (or her) role as judge, teacher, wife, and mother. The end of a near three hours set was greeted with a well-deserved standing ovation.
Brit Floyd definitely occupy the upper echelons of tribute bands: go and see them and you are guaranteed a fabulous time.
Reviewer - Richard Ely
on - 10/3/19
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