MOVE ON YOU CRAZY DIAMOND
May 2007

I have had the good fortune to meet one or two musicians I idolised as I was growing up. Well, I say ‘good’ fortune advisedly as I have realised it’s actually quite a dubious honour to come face to face with someone who’s poster you have had on your wall half your life. I mean, what on earth do you say to someone who has been deified by millions - chased, harried, bothered, questioned, hassled and hunted by press, fans and detractors for decades. There is nothing they haven’t heard before, and no amount of flattery or feigning of disinterest will raise flicker of empathy between you.

One such person is David Gilmour, the brilliant singer and guitarist from Pink Floyd. I was invited to a book launch by one of my students, who happens to be a well known journalist and writer. He mentioned that Gilmour may be there too, and my mind immediately started racing.

I first heard Pink Floyd as a pre pubescent kid growing up in America, where they were and still are, huge. Over the years I got into their music more and more, and by the time I was a mid pubescent 16 year old, they were helping to form the soundtrack to my life. I recall one evening when I listened to every one of their albums, in order, until the early hours of the morning – and I wasn’t even stoned.

In short, I was a fan, big time. With their posters on my wall and their music in my ears, they formed part of the Big 5 – my so called top 5 bands as a youth. Daft how blokes have to make a list out of everything, isn’t it?

Anyway, knowing he might be at this book launch, I immediately set about thinking what to say to him, knowing that my friend would introduce us. As my friends will tell you, I can talk for England about music, and meeting David Gilmour was bound to be a feather in my cap for future pub talk. Yes, I was ready to dazzle David with my encyclopaedic knowledge of music and the Floyd in particular.

Should I open the encounter with a witty remark about one of their album covers? Maybe a sly but funny put down on Roger Water’s solo albums. Yes, he’d like that. No, maybe I should show him I’m a real fan and mention a song off one of his own solo album. Yes, I bet not many people do that! But alas, they do…as much as I tried, I simply couldn’t think of anything I would say to this multi talented, multi millionaire ‘hero’ of mine.

The evening arrived and I turned up fairly early. Glancing round I saw that he had not arrived and thought he may not turn up. I breathed a sigh of relief and went out to get some fresh air. After a few moments I went back in to find the canapés. On my way, my friend called me over with an elaborate wave of the arm.

“Adam, come and meet David”. He said.

And there, standing right next to him, looking every inch like David Gilmour, was the man himself. At first I was stunned, just how much he looked like himself – I mean, normally you see ‘celebrities’ up close and they are shorter, fatter, paler, uglier, somehow less impressive. But not our David, he could have stepped right off the television.

“Oh hello” I said, genuinely a little startled. We shook hands and he gave me a warm smile.

“Adam is my guitar teacher”, said my friend, “and he’s in a wonderful band called the Mustangs – a blues band with guitar, bass, drum and harp”.

I Squirmed a little that my friend was talking up my band to David Gilmour of PINK FLOYD.

“Oh perfect” replied David, “sounds great”. And lo and behold, for a very few moments, David Gilmour of PINK FLOYD (have I mentioned that already?) and I traded small talk on my band.

Now, herein lies the point of my tale. My friend made excuses and walked away, leaving David and I staring each other in the face. There was a time, not so long ago, when I would have stood there and visibly racked my brains to come up with something awful, contrived, embarrassing, just to prolong our futile and awkward conversation. After all, this was David Gilmour of PINK FLOYD (enough already!), you don’t get this sort of chance very often.

But no, within milliseconds of my friend leaving, I realised that David and I had had our moment. Our encounter had been brief, polite, even pleasant, but the moment had come and gone. And guess what I did…..I smiled, said “it was nice to meet you” and walked away. I walked away! He smiled back and nodded and that was it. All seemingly over in a flash.

I barely caught sight of him for the rest of the evening and didn’t even try. I had saved him from my own inane small talk, and at the same time managed to stop from making an utter fool of myself. Now there’s a turn up for the books. Perhaps I’m just getting older and wiser, maybe I don’t really see the need for heroes anymore. Possibly I just needed to go the toilet very badly. Who knows, but it feels a bit like this crazy diamond has moved on.

A few hours later when he left I swear he looked over at me from the door and waved goodbye. Even if he didn’t, that’s how I will remember it and retell it. Me and David.

Now, one day I will tell you about the time I met Brian May…

Adam