“I know you didn’t come here to listen to this,” sighed Roger Waters as he surveyed the O2 crowd.
With most aging rockers on a “first-ever farewell tour,” that statement would likely mean they were about to play some new material. At Roger Waters’ show, sadly, it meant he was about to sing the same old song.
Sure enough, an extended rant against “the Israeli lobby” and British MP Christian Wakeford followed.
“They are trying to cancel me,” he claimed, to at first hesitant, but then louder, applause. “And it hurts. We’ve done 80 shows and we’ve done nothing but share our love for people. That’s why I’m so pissed off with this Israeli lobby bullshit.” He also accused his critics of “making up stuff because you’ve been told to by your masters from the Foreign Office in Tel Aviv.”
Wakeford recently raised concerns in the House of Commons about the show. The MP undoubtedly got some of his facts wrong (for example, the inflatable pig on these dates is not emblazoned with a Star of David, although such a prop did feature on a previous tour), but whether that justifies calling him “a fucking moron,” let alone a “cripple” – a term that drew a sharp intake of breath from some in even this largely indulgent crowd – is rather more open to debate.
After all, Wakeford is hardly the only person to have had issues with these gigs. It’s not often you have to cross a picket line to collect your tickets to a rock show, but as the crowd arrives, a few dozen protestors are outside the O2 to greet them, chanting, “Another Brick in the Wall”-style, “Hey! Roger! Leave us Jews alone!”
Earlier this year, Polly Samson, the wife of former Pink Floyd bandmate David Gilmour, branded Waters “antisemitic to your rotten core” (Gilmour endorsed the tweet, which doesn’t exactly bode well for any potential Floyd reunion). Ukrainians have been up in arms over Waters’ pronouncement that the Russian invasion of their country “was not unprovoked” (which also led to Polish dates being scrapped). And the U.S. State Department has denounced his Berlin appearance as “deeply offensive to Jewish people” after German police reportedly launched an investigation into his wearing of a “Nazi-style” leather trench coat at that show.
That accusation seems to have particularly riled Waters. Tonight, in his defense, he hissed, “It’s called theater, darling! It’s called satire!” while a pre-show, big screen disclaimer characterized such criticisms as “bad faith attacks from those who want to smear and silence me because they disagree with my political views and moral principles” while noting that “the depiction of an unhinged fascist demagogue has been a feature of my shows since Pink Floyd’s ‘The Wall’ in 1980.”
That’s true, but it doesn’t really address the protestors’ point. After all, there are plenty of things that rock stars did in 1980 that they wouldn’t dream of attempting in 2023. Times have changed, but Waters has seemingly decided not to move with them, while complaining about the consequences (such as they are: the platform afforded by two nights at the U.K.’s most prestigious arena doesn’t exactly scream “canceled” to most people).
There had been signs earlier in this U.K. leg that perhaps Waters was dialing back some of the show’s more controversial elements. But tonight, he seemed happy to double down.
So, the controversial trenchcoat, complete with crossed hammers insignia, which was not worn in Birmingham, reappeared after the interval as he hollered, “Are there any paranoids in the arena tonight?” to the sound of gunfire, ahead of an undeniably powerful “Run Like Hell.”
And there’s the rub: when Waters stuck to rock star accoutrements that were acceptable in both the ‘80s and the present day (Guitar solos! Spaced-out jams! Syd Barrett anecdotes!), “This Is Not a Drill” was a more than satisfactory rock show.
His band may have occasionally looked more sheepish than the giant inflatable ewe that floated around the arena, but they played the hell out of Floyd classics such as “Comfortably Numb,” “Have a Cigar,” “Shine on You Crazy Diamond,” “Money” and “Brain Damage,” while Waters’ solo material has rarely sounded more accessible.
Visually, the show was certainly arresting, although Waters’ habit of displaying slogans that no one would disagree with (“Fuck Bombing People!” “We All Need Rights!”) alongside more contentious statements (branding successive U.S. presidents as “war criminals”) seemed disingenuous. And, while he did include Anne Frank (“Crime: Being Jewish”) in the on-screen depiction of people killed by “tyrannical regimes,” there appeared to be no mention of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in the anti-war sections, even when he warned that “we are closer to nuclear disaster than the human race has ever been.”
The ex-Pink Floyd man’s ability to speak passionately about nuclear disarmament and his love of Bob Dylan may have muddied the, um, Waters enough for this crowd – nearly all of them old enough to have heard these songs first time around – to be convinced by his “freedom of speech” argument.
Certainly, no one took him up on the pre-show suggestion that “if you’re one of those ‘I love Pink Floyd, but I can’t stand Roger’s politics’ people, then you might do well to fuck off to the bar.” And Waters seemed to end the night emboldened, clearly genuinely touched at being “in this big room with all of you loving me.”
In the outside world, the reception might remain rather frostier. As one of the protestors’ signs pointed out, it’s a long way from “The Dark Side of the Moon” to the wrong side of history – but it may be too late for Waters to change his direction of travel.
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