All Lovers Are Deranged
What is the deal with David Gilmour? I mean, I was all "that Karl Urban-like dude in this Floyd photo: not too bad", but I never got interested in the guy until I was supposed to be finishing up the first chapter on my thesis. So naturally I was actually spending my time watching Pink Floyd docos. And this man is gorgeous! He's a babe! One of the things I like about getting unnecessary crushes on people who were young in the 60s is that I get to convince myself I'm (a) detached, (b) studying music history, and (c) totally capable of building a time machine.
Nah, but seriously. That his work with the Floyd is amazing goes without saying. He's put out three solo albums and I have been playing About Face consistently for the last 48 hours - I suggest you do the same. It's wild. And, you know, having listened to the Momentary Lapse of Reason album about 5 billion times since I was in high school, his voice is ingrained in my consciousness and has a degree of familiarity for me that I believe only Bowie and Danzig share. People: that is saying something. Saying something which may be a lie, I haven't thought about it hard enough. Let it be said that Dave Gilmour has aged pretty well, though I must admit my heart is set on Roger Waters when it comes to the most gorge of the older Pinks.
Labels: David Gilmour, He's a babe, Pink Floyd
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