Roger Waters

“The best live show ever. Period”

(New York Post)

“The Wall Live is perfect. Everyone should see it at least once before they die”

(Philadelphia Inquirer)

“The Wall is a triumph of scale and ambition…the highest peak rock has ever reached”

(The Times, London)

Going to see a concert described by the world's most authoritative newspapers as the greatest experience a music lover could hope to have in their lifetime is a challenge to one's own expectations. The most devoted Floyd fans have surely seen the footage of The Wall Live 1980 on YouTube, filmed at Earls Court in London. Those images, despite being unofficial and therefore of poor audio and video quality, still manage to testify to the magnificence of that first tour for the album, the last one by Floyd in their classic line-up.

Many of them took part in the first modern revival of the album, at the Milan dates in 2010, stirring quite a bit of envy and bitterness in those who, like myself, hadn't managed to attend what was thought to be the last chance to do so. And many of them were also at the Padua date: among the nearly 50,000 people who sold out the Euganeo stadium in Padua, hundreds sport t-shirts, pins or even scarves from the Milan shows. It's thanks to their stories, in the endless queue that precedes entry to the pitch under the 4pm sun, that anticipation grows even further; people describe epic, unforgettable experiences, and you're not sure whether to listen or not, so as not to find out details you'd rather save for a few hours later. A few metres further along, older fans wear other relics: beneath long white hair, a short, crumpled t-shirt reads "The Dark Side Of The Moon Tour 1972 (A Piece for Assorted Lunatics)". Epic.

But the year is 2013, and in front of me, just under 150 metres away, stands the tallest stage in the history of live music, framed by a wall of white bricks running the full length between the two stands. "The Wall" is often the first album a new Pink Floyd fan listens to, perhaps because of the huge success of "Another Brick In The Wall Pt 2", which over the years has become a rock anthem; that was the case for me too. I wore out the two discs through repeated listens, every day for months; then I bought the vinyl, watched the film, and via the internet saw the live shows in London and, above all, Berlin, in front of one of the most painful walls of the modern era; I grew up with the spectacle of the real and animated imagery, with the thousand clear or cryptic messages contained in the concept.

When, at 9:20pm, all the stadium lights go out and even the wall turns dark, like the screen of a switched-off television, the excitement and anticipation turn into emotion at the sight of the Pink puppet being mistreated by two uniformed men and the words "I am Spartacus", white on black, appearing on the wall in every language in the world.

It's only the beginning: after a few minutes, "In The Flesh?" suddenly kicks in at deafening volume, accompanied by the entire stage set lighting up and enormous fireworks. Quite a few people in the crowd jump at the sudden blast. Roger appears moments later in front of the wall, his wall, in great shape, walking from one side of the stage to the other and greeting the roaring crowd before putting on a long black leather coat like a Nazi officer's. After a sneer — symbolising his contempt for ⟦Q1⟧ — he starts singing, while the live band performs the song masterfully and the technicians begin adding new bricks to the wall, each one lighting up with projected images as if independent from one another.

The show of videos and fireworks continues up to the final crescendo: a plane, initially fixed to the roof of the stand, is dropped onto the wall and explodes in a blaze of fire and deafening noise. The emotion makes it hard to sing along.

The show flows quickly and without interruption, apart from a pause between "Another Brick In The Wall pt II" and "Mother", during which Waters addresses the crowd in excellent Italian. In both songs, attention focuses on two huge inflatable puppets: first the famous teacher, challenged by a group of children from Padua who come onto the stage during the chorus, and then the mother, appearing a few metres from Waters in the middle of the acoustic performance of "Mother" (during which images of Waters himself singing the same song in 1980 at Earls Court are projected onto the circular screen), as well as an interesting alternative acoustic version of "Another Brick In The Wall Pt II".

Each song works as a self-contained universe of messages, yet perfectly integrated into the whole and functional to the work, conveyed partly through the wonderful visuals and partly through the striking body language of Floyd's founder. Particularly moving are the videos for "Goodbye Blue Sky" (the animated flight of a flock of birds interrupted by that of a squadron of warplanes dropping symbols of ideologies, religions and brands like bombs onto the ground, filling the earth with blood) and for "Don't Leave Me Now" (the puppet of a naked mantis-wife descends in front of the wall, lit green, and dances during the solo).

With "Goodbye Cruel World" the first part closes, and the last brick of the wall is also laid, now completely covering the entire stage, where it will remain intact until the final song.

The second part loses none of the show's grandeur: the Floyd bassist's voice shows not the slightest sign of faltering, while the performances of "Hey You" and "Is There Anybody Out There?" are flawless; and then there are chills for the great classic "Comfortably Numb", with Waters' unforgettable fists pounding the wall as it splits open — if only on video — revealing a multicoloured reverse side, in a thrilling crescendo that peaks with David Kilminster's magnificent solo, which doesn't make you miss David Gilmour's historic one too much.

From that moment on, the show turns into a kind of huge musical, with Waters playing the role of a paranoid Nazi officer (going so far as to "open fire" on the crowd with a machine gun during the encore of "In The Flesh") and the band dressed up as his army, complete with weapons, flags and military uniforms.

As if that weren't enough, it's perhaps the final five songs that form the climax of the entire concert, starting with the unmistakable riff of "Run Like Hell", belted out by the entire crowd. With "Waiting For The Worms", the whole wall lights up with the animations from the 1982 film: the epic march of the hammers is projected across its entire length and remains, perhaps, the most emotional moment of the show, before Waters moves aside to let the crowd's attention focus on the long animated sequence of "The Trial".

The 50,000 people at the Euganeo, hypnotised by the experience, chant "Tear Down The Wall" in unison, urged on by Waters himself, who disappears from the stage just as the wall comes crashing down amid general euphoria. The whole band reappears a few minutes later, atop the rubble of the wall, for "Outside The Wall".

Waters sings "Is this not what you expected to see?" in "In the Flesh?" and I think: no, it's much more than that. Compared to the previous tour, the 2013 one has been boldly redesigned for stadiums: the sound is extremely powerful and comes from all directions, as do the lights and projections, which span the entire length of the wall; the show forces the viewer into a 360-degree view of the sensory space around them, much as happens with the wall that closes in all around the protagonist, Pink.

The album's message is brought up to date through a concrete pacifism, built around the exaltation of certain key figures, such as Jean Charles de Menezes, to whom Waters dedicates the show, or the many activists and victims of conflict whose photos fill the wall during "The Thin Ice" and during the break between the two parts of the concert, without ever losing sight of Waters' own personal story, which after all lies at the heart of the concept's linear narrative. The sum of the meticulous details and the intense involvement of Waters and the whole band cannot fail to stir powerful emotion, on top of the thrill of realising you're witnessing something unique, arguably well beyond expectations. The whole show, indeed, is an incredible masterpiece, both in ambition and in its concrete realisation — majestic and direct.

After all, this is Roger Waters, founder of a band called Pink Floyd, the only artist able to turn an album written and released more than thirty years ago into a still-living work, one of extreme relevance and spectacle. Now, from the lofty heights of his famously humble ego, good old Roger, on the verge of turning 70, can enjoy his well-earned and highest place on the podium of live music worldwide. Once again.

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