Some lyrics, no matter your age, have a way of sticking with you. Long before I understood the greatness of Pink Floyd, or what Dark Side Of The Moon would offer me as a listening experience, I knew the melody to ‘Wish You Were Here’. And not only did I know the melody, but the lyrics “we’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl” were imprinted in my mind.
Undoubtedly, some of the finest lyrics ever penned, it perfectly depicted the transient nature of life. There’s something deeply tragic about the confines of a fish bowl that are compounded by it being a home for lost souls and somehow in that swift sentence, David Gilmour struck to the varied hearts of all the songs listeners.
But when you dial in a little closer, the lyric can become somewhat of a metaphor for the bands two leaders, Gilmour and Roger Waters. Forged together by higher creative powers to create one of music’s most iconic albums of all time in Dark Side Of The Moon. Prior to that, the pair toiled away through the pile of jigsaw pieces, desperately trying to find what fit, and in Ummagummaand Atom Heart Mother, they were almost there.
It was greatness packaged in some sort of incoherence, lightly hinting towards the clunkiness of their creative synergy. But finally, Waters and Gilmour, alongwith Richard Wright and Nick Mason clicked into gear to the sound of psychedelic heaven. It truly was an example of how warring forces can coalesce to create greatness.
But ultimately, for Gilmour and Waters, it was unsustainable. The world they had created soon shrunk to the size of a goldfish bowl and their souls no longer linked. Their partnership fizzled out to the sound of one last hit, as Gilmour explained, I think things like ‘Comfortably Numb’ were the last embers of mine and Roger’s ability to work collaboratively together.”
Waters eventually left the band, thinking the remaining members would follow suit but they continued on, much to Waters’ dismay and so a messy and lengthy legal case followed, hammering the remaining nails in the coffin of their relationship. Ever since those days Gilmour has never been shy to criticise Waters and publicly exclaim the impossibility of them ever being amicable again.
So when Gilmour attended a Q&A, and was asked what song he thought hosted Waters’ finest lyrics, he was quick to make what would be one last subtle jibe, by picking a song that was never officially released until 2015, under a retrospective First Recordings EP. “Gosh, let me have a think about that,” Gilmour mused, before suggesting, “How about a song called ‘Walk With Me Sydney?’”
In most circumstances, the pick of a deep cut would be high praise, for usually its an artist’s most overlooked work that they treasure. But Gilmour knows Waters better than that, and knows the pride he took in Pink Floyd’s grandest compositions, most particularly The Wall. And so it’s hard to take highlighting a song that has been consigned to the bins of history as nothing more than a subtle jibe at Waters’ ego.
