Even before the show began, everyone knew what was coming. Pink Floyd's 1979 monster-selling double album The Wall, an unrelenting stare into the hideously unfair, miserable life of the tragically successful millionaire rock star, in its entirety, courtesy of its creator, Roger Waters.
Thirty-one years after spewing his contempt for war, society, the music industry and his fans onto vinyl, Roger's fired up his bile duct again. A money-spinner in the light of no new material? Probably, but you can't really accuse Waters of having walked the commercial path. Forty years of avant-garde psychedelia, five-song albums and The Wall, the ultimate middle finger to the fans, give him the right to dust off an old favourite when funds are running low.
Assuming you're aware of what these songs sound like (you've presumably searched for this review after all) this is how the 2010 re-imagining of this landmark album and concert went down.
In a word, wow.
Seriously. Wow.
"So you thought you might like to go to the show?" asks Roger, standing in front of a half-built 70-foot wall, as fireworks and projections rain around him and a half-size Spitfire flies beneath the scoreboard on Rogers Arena's ceiling, crashing in a ball of fire on stage.
Two minutes later, he's onto "The Thin Ice," complete with an emotional projection detailing the lives and deaths of casualties of war, beginning with his own father and taking in military and civilian fatalities from Iraq and beyond. Within moments a 50-foot marionette of the fearsome Teacher is flopping around, before a choir of children are dancing along to "Another Brick in the Wall Part II." Blink, and you've missed something. Complete audio-visual overload.
In Photos: Roger Waters rebuilds The Wall
Things slow down for "Mother," the best song of the night. There's no let-up in the AV trickery though, as Waters duets with a 1980 version of himself screened onto The Wall, one that the current incarnation knowingly describes as "a younger, miserable, f***ed up Roger."
In terms of production, it's unbelievable. The Wall is built as the songs go on, gradually obscuring the band from the crowd. It doesn't matter. The animations, inflatable flying pigs and the sight of Roger Waters watching TV in a hotel room that emerges from nowhere, are far more interesting than a bunch session musicians anyway.
And yet, the 2010 version of The Wall contains so many of the elements that made the original such a frustrating concept piece.
Alternately profound and preposterous, its moving anti-war message sits uneasily besides the lingering misogyny sprinkled through Pink's failed relationships with his mother, wife and groupies. Waters isn't a natural showman, but he embraces the theatrical throughout. Dressed in Gestapo trench coat he implores the crowd to clap and "Enjoy yourselves" during "Run Like Hell," as we watch and hear horrific footage of American soldiers in Iraq mistaking the cameras of innocent photographers for weapons, mowing them down with machine gun fire. People dance. The final act sees Roger flailing about during "The Trial"; the tragedy of the rock god that no one understands.
Of course, The Wall eventually falls. It looks awesome. Everyone cheers like maniacs. It's been a fantastic celebration of pessimism.
"Things have changed since I wrote this," smiles Waters at show's end. "I couldn't be happier to be here tonight."
He may have changed but the music hasn't. According to The Wall, humanity is still a cruel, violent race that will inevitably wipe itself out with its hatred, greed and stupidity. It may well be right. At least Roger had the decency to put on a spectacular show before we blow ourselves off the planet.
