It’s hard to imagine the world of progressive music without David Gilmour’s distinctive and accomplished playing. His soaring solos and sweeping soundscapes helped elevate Pink Floyd’s music, and led him to become one of the most instantly recognisable guitarists of the modern age. To mark the release of his fifth solo album Luck And Strange, Prog asked 30 fellow musicians and collaborators to name their favourite Gilmour performances. Prepare to be surprised!
“I think I’m quite lucky that – like ‘em or not – my voice and my guitar playing are distinctive. They’re me and recognisably so, and that ties everything together,” observed David Gilmour in conversation with Prog in 2016. That somewhat modest assessment might be something of an understatement.
While it may be wilfully provocative – and sure to irritate a certain irascible bass player – there’s a strong case to be made that Gilmour’s guitar is the defining ingredient in the sound of Pink Floyd: an instantly identifiable signature that sets them apart from their peers. In terms of contributions, that’s not bad going for a musician who originally joined in the capacity of support guitarist to the ailing Syd Barrett.
Gilmour’s influence on Floyd’s development is undeniable, helping to steer them away from their early, pop-psychedelic influences into a more expansive progressive direction. He brought lucidity and passion to the music, and somehow made the pedal steel and slide guitar part of the prog rock lexicon.
“Pink Floyd created a space of their own and lived in it – they didn’t try to do anything else,” says The Police’s Andy Summers. “David Gilmour took over from Syd Barrett and was the perfect guitarist for Floyd. His slashing bluesy solos – always with a great guitar tone – were a razor slicing through their spacey music. Great tone, great phrasing. David was the perfect spice for Pink Floyd.”
Gilmour’s contributions began with 1968’s A Saucerful Of Secrets, although perhaps 1971’s Meddle marks the moment when the guitarist truly came into his own as a writer and vocalist. “My favourite album is Meddle, where I think the psychedelic and progressive elements are perfectly balanced,” says Norwegian guitarist and songwriter Jacob Holm-Lupo.
Where his contemporaries, such as Robert Fripp and Steve Howe, draw upon jazz, avant-garde or classical in approaching their instrument, Gilmour is justly celebrated for the incredible feel and emotional depth of his playing.
“When every other guitarist on Earth is trying to play faster, cramming every note within a single bar, he seems to pull everything back and choose each note with great artistic care,” says EBB’s Erin Bennett. “And I believe that’s why he is one of the most celebrated guitarists.”
His sound and style are uniquely his own – but Gilmour’s influence extends across generations of artists and players, from neo-prog torchbearers like Marillion’s Steve Rothery to modern prog metal practitioners Acle Kahney from TesseracT and Haken’s Charlie Griffiths and Rich Henshall. Gilmour remains the giant upon whose shoulders everyone else can stand.
His accomplishments with Pink Floyd scarcely need detailing here, not least among them the record-breaking sales and popular longevity of The Dark Side Of The Moon. “Perhaps the closest I will get to immortality will be through The Dark Side Of The Moon,” Gilmour told the Sunday Telegraph in 2006.
Although nothing – not even 1979’s equally seminal The Wall – may ever hope to eclipse the success of Dark Side, Gilmour has forged a successful career outside of Floyd. He launched his solo catalogue with his 1978 self-titled album (which has proven a notably popular choice with our panel of the prognoscenti); yet his output bears testament to the maxim of quality over quantity. Following About Face in 1984, On An Island in 2006, and 2015’s Rattle That Lock, 2024’s Luck And Strange is just his fifth solo album in as many decades.
As if all that wasn’t enough, he went and discovered Kate Bush as well
That’s not to suggest he’s been content to rest on his laurels. Over the years he’s collaborated with Paul McCartney and Wings, Warren Zevon and Roy Harper. He’s played with Bryan Ferry and Pete Townshend, recorded with All About Eve, and confounded all expectations by teaming up with ambient techno artists The Orb on their 2010 album Metallic Spheres. “As if all that wasn’t enough, he went and discovered Kate Bush as well. ‘Wow!’ indeed,” says Karda Estra’s Richard Wileman.
Rather than calling old friends and colleagues like Phil Manzanera for Luck And Strange, Gilmour brought in producer Charlie Andrew, who’s worked with indie rockers Alt-J, London Grammar and Marika Hackman, plus British pop mainstays Madness. The choice of collaborators suggests that six decades into his storied career, Gilmour’s adventurous, progressive spirit remains undiminished.
The Nile Song (Pink Floyd, More, 1969)
Rosalie Cunningham: I first heard The Nile Song in my early teens at a friend’s house whose dad’s record collection we would regularly pillage. This was not the perfectly polished Floyd I knew and loved from The Dark Side Of The Moon, nor the whimsical psychedelia of the Syd days. The raw energy and heavy guitar had me transfixed. That killer razor-blade vocal and apocalyptic garagey guitar from Gilmour absolutely make this track. You don’t really notice at first, but it has six key changes – it sounds straight-ahead but not many heavy riff songs do that!
Atom Heart Mother (Pink Floyd, Atom Heart Mother, 1970)
Erin Bennett, EBB: It’s in the Funky Dung fourth movement of the suite where Gilmour brings in his iconic, pentatonic soloing featuring his famous bends, and it gets gradually more ‘chunky’ as the movement progresses. For me, it isn’t necessarily what he plays here that makes the statement, but how he plays it. In my opinion, his English take on the blues stands head and shoulders above anything you find at Austin City Limits, simply because of his accuracy in dragging your heart to that emotional place without uttering a word.
One Of These Days (Pink Floyd, Meddle, 1971)
Kenwyn House, Goldray: I first heard this tune at a friend’s house when I was 14. The song left a huge impression on my psyche. I’ve realised recently it’s subliminally influenced a tune on our last album [Feel The Change, 2020] called Oz. Rampaging 6/8 bass line with tape echo, the atmospheric layered keys and shimmering Leslie [speaker system] create such a dream-like atmosphere. It’s an instrumental, which is difficult to pull off unless you have a really strong idea. And that massive guitar tone! I think this is the moment where they started to crystallise their 1970s sonic.
Time (Pink Floyd, The Dark Side Of The Moon, 1973)
Julianne Regan, All About Eve: A schoolfriend played me her dad’s copy of The Dark Side Of The Moon and it overwhelmed me. First hearing it when the only instrument I could play was the recorder meant a steep learning curve and high bar. Half a century later, I’m a little closer but still light years away. But this song – and by extension David Gilmour and Pink Floyd – taught me about dynamics, about how music can be oceanic, its waves crashing then receding, or celestial, its skies laced with jet streams and zephyrs.
Breathe (Pink Floyd, The Dark Side Of The Moon, 1973)
Andy Glass, Solstice: I must have been 13; listening to an album was a ritual best experienced with close friends. The battered Dansette in the middle of our small cross-legged circle may as well have been the best hi-fi in the world as Dark Side filled the space with its eerie opening – and then... Breathe. Gilmour’s chord voicings haunt and inspire me to this day. Check out Bulbul Tarang or any number of Solstice tracks for evidence. Every note that man plays says something, and every solo will speak to generations to come.
Money (Pink Floyd, The Dark Side Of The Moon, 1973)
Dave Bainbridge, Lifesigns: I distinctly remember listening to this in our kitchen, probably doing the washing-up. At the time I’d just started playing guitar after years studying classical piano. The arrangement sets the stage for the guitar solo to have maximum impact, and, boy, does Gilmour deliver! From the first note the solo grabs you with this fabulous authority and incredible, fat sound. As a fledgling guitarist I had absolutely no idea how it was possible to get this kind of sound out of a guitar, but I loved it.
Shine On You Crazy Diamond (Pink Floyd, Wish You Were Here, 1975)
Steve Rothery, Marillion: I heard this on the beach at night in Whitby on a portable cassette player. It made me want to be a professional guitarist. That was as close to perfection as it was possible to get. I love the sounds of Rick Wright’s synths and Gilmour’s epic playing, how that four-note phrase resonates so beautifully. I think it creates a movie in your mind, it’s so incredibly visual. It’s a perfect example of the four of them creating something that could only come from those personalities.
Dogs (Pink Floyd, Animals, 1977)
Rich Henshall, Haken: My dad lived and breathed Pink Floyd, so their music formed a large part of the soundtrack of my youth. I’m a sucker for long tracks: Dogs is very much in that camp, and the fact that you feel fully engaged throughout the whole ride is a testament to the incredible songwriting. I love the Orwellian-themed message of the song, which is something we’ve explored on our album Fauna and tracks like Cockroach King. Gilmour seems to have this special ability to sing through his guitar in such an emotive way.
Pigs (Three Different Ones) (Pink Floyd, Animals, 1977)
Jane Getter, Jane Getter Premonition: It wasn’t until I taught the song to a School Of Rock ensemble in 2008 that I really got into it and realised how great it is. The melody is strong; I like the development of the chord progression and trajectory of the song, which leads up to the killer guitar solo at the end. To me, this is one of Gilmour’s most inspired solos. He starts off with the perfect one-note double-stop bend over the two-chord vamp and builds from there. He sounds totally inspired and in the moment.
Sheep (Pink Floyd, Animals, 1977)
Andy Hodge, Downes Braide Association: Floyd are often at their best when they keep it simple, and here it’s the subtle rhythmic changes that drive the whole thing along so effortlessly. Sheep is an anthem for non-conformism and listening now I notice just how ‘punk’ the vocal is in delivery and content. The final guitar riff as the track peaks and fades out is pure elation and takes me back to my teenage self. Finding how to emulate these moments has always been my goal and this track has been a constant reference point for my entire career.
I Can’t Breathe Anymore (David Gilmour, David Gilmour, 1978)
Durga McBroom: I first heard it during the Momentary Lapse Of Reason tour. I was a Pink Floyd fan, but I wasn’t familiar with David’s solo work until I started working with him. I was struck by the clarity and beauty of the vocals. Everyone goes crazy over his obvious guitar virtuosity, but I happen to love the tone of his voice as well. It’s like a bell: liquid and clear. I love that song because it’s so real. So vulnerable. So simple it strikes right at my core.
There’s No Way Out Of Here (David Gilmour, David Gilmour, 1978)
Fernando Perdomo: Love at first listen! I swear I’ve returned to this more than any Floyd album ever. David Gilmour’s voice has been a huge influence on how I sing, being a fellow baritone. The production is absolutely magical – so much space. Even his guitar is comparatively reserved. It’s all about the song and conveying this dark message of being trapped, possibly in a band that you don’t like anymore. I couldn’t produce this any better. It’s a perfect recording. It makes me want to jam along!
Raise My Rent (David Gilmour, David Gilmour, 1978)
Leon Alvarado: I first heard the album at a friend’s house during a discussion about Pink Floyd’s Animals. Raise My Rent immediately resonated with me as being very Pink Floyd-like, especially Gilmour’s lyrical guitar playing. As an instrumental, the song enables listeners to fully immerse themselves in the music without the interruption of lyrics. It seemed to establish a pattern that Gilmour would develop in the future. His ability to create songs with such emotive guitar work became a defining characteristic of his style.
Mihalis (David Gilmour, David Gilmour, 1978)
Richard Wileman, Karda Estra: I first heard this around 1986 when I was in my art college digs. I was instantly drawn to it because of the little whole-note phrase added to the main chords. It makes the piece sound beautifully otherworldly and mysterious, even a little dissonant. I use this writing technique quite a lot but this was the first time it properly caught my ear, and it made a huge impression on me. Whenever I do it, I can’t help but think, ‘Mihalis!’ This brilliant track was my gateway to getting into Pink Floyd properly.
Another Brick In The Wall, Part 2 (Pink Floyd, The Wall, 1979)
Robin Armstrong, Cosmograf: This song is incredibly special to me because it keeps giving. Later, I recognised its importance in conceptual rock music as part of The Wall; that album cost me a lot of lost revision time studying for O-Levels [school exams]. I think it still expresses the truth about our education system: a lack of connection and hope. Musically, in many ways it’s an antithesis to prog: a 4/4 disco beat and simple bass line, but the lyrics are incredibly dark, and the guitar work is utterly sublime.
The Final Cut (Pink Floyd, The Final Cut, 1983)
John Mitchell, Lonely Robot, Asia: It’s always been my great belief that less is almost always more, and this is a case study in that mantra. Sure, pretty much anyone could play the solo in The Final Cut, but not many people would have the taste and class to play what David Gilmour played or would sound anything like him. His phrasing, tone, feel are unique and uncopyable to my mind. He falls into a very, very small bracket of players who you can recognise instantly and are iconic by that very virtue.
Let’s Get Metaphysical (David Gilmour, About Face, 1984)
Charlie Griffiths, Haken: I love the mix of cinematic, epic strings and orchestral brass with the soaring guitar over the top, which I felt had more gain than I’d heard him use with Pink Floyd. It was like Star Wars meets Brian May! David’s perfectly in-tune bends, the timing of his vibrato, and controlled feedback work perfectly to deliver the emotion of the piece as it builds through the four minutes. This track inspired me to work on my own vibrato and strive to give it that vocal-like quality that he has.
No More Lonely Nights (Paul McCartney, Give Me Regards To Broad Street, 1984)
Bjørn Riis, Airbag: I was probably 10 or 12 when I first heard the song and the guitar solo instantly caught my attention. Years later, I learned that it was David Gilmour and it all made sense. That song has a distinct late-night New York 80s feeling, which has been a huge inspiration over the years. As a songwriter and guitarist, his unique tone and style are so instantly recognisable – and his solo on No More Lonely Nights still cuts right into my spine and fills me with emotion and inspiration.
Hope (Roy Harper and Jimmy Page, Whatever Happened to Jugula? 1985)
Menno Gootjes, Focus: I discovered this gem just recently. I was going through Roy Harper’s catalogue while on the train, being carried away to spiritual, multidimensional planes where anytime and anyplace coexist simultaneously. It’s the typical large-scale, stripped down of any unnecessary information, cut- to-the-chase musical brilliance of Gilmour: so strong, to the point, no note too many. That tone. Concentrating on the essential. Best lesson ever and something hard to achieve, especially in my case. Still working on that one. It has a deep devotion in its performance – it’s just beautiful!
Give Blood (Pete Townshend, White City: A Novel, 1985)
Dave Foster: Mr So & So singer and bassist Shaun McGowan introduced me to Give Blood. I was on my first journey into the world of Pink Floyd and was spellbound by the delay-heavy guitar on The Wall. Give Blood had the same signature David Gilmour delay. The guitar part is exciting from the very first bar; you hear it crackle into life and then shift up another gear when the groove of Simon Phillips’ ace playing kicks in alongside the equally ace Pino Palladino on bass.
On The Turning Away (Pink Floyd, A Momentary Lapse Of Reason, 1987)
Amanda Lehmann: David Gilmour has been one of my guitar heroes since I was a teen, with his blues style, amazing sense of mood and melody, and the idea of creating a powerful guitar solo without a million notes per second. This song has stayed with me all these years. The lyrics and melody are so poignant, and – perhaps sadly – even more relevant today. Timeless, it has a feeling of moving onward, a heavy heart, but with fragile hope and optimism for the best in us to prosper.
Sorrow (Pink Floyd, A Momentary Lapse Of Reason, 1987)
Acle Kahney, TesseracT: I first heard Sorrow when I was five or six years old on a long holiday drive. I guess my mum hoped a prog album might keep me entertained. I was lucky enough to see David Gilmour at the Royal Albert Hall for his 2016 tour. It’s just an iconic intro; it’s loud, it cuts through, but it’s not harsh or piercing. The familiar intro has influenced TesseracT, Proxy and Cages being obvious examples with the synth pad and lead guitar – though I’ve shied away from the pentatonic scale nowadays!
Run Straight Down (Warren Zevon, Transverse City, 1989)
Jacob Holm-Lupo, White Willow, The Opium Cartel: It resonated with me for the same reasons as Pink Floyd: you can make dark, dystopian music, but imbue it with lyricism and beauty. Transverse City ploughs the same furrows as The Wall or The Final Cut. Run Straight Down owes something to those records: the funereal tempo, dark chords and textures, juxtaposed with the steely, sharp notes from Gilmour. Pink Floyd taught me that you can handle heavy subjects and still move and entertain the listener. Gilmour taught me that a guitar can truly tug the heartstrings.
High Hopes (Pink Floyd, The Division Bell, 1994)
Milad Amouzegar, Dim Gray: I love how Gilmour sings with a deep and full voice, and playing the song with a Nylon guitar adds a warm touch to the soundscape. This song introduced me to the lap steel, and the end solo is still one of my favourite solos played on any instrument. I find the lyrics really moving. I bet there are several interpretations, but to me the song describes nostalgia, painting a picture of a bright and hopeful childhood filled with dreams and ambitions; that’s something I can relate to.
Hey You (Live) (Pink Floyd, Pulse, 1995)
Danny Sorrell, The Paradox Twin: The album was bought for me as a birthday present – I remember having to wait a whole week to listen to it, and when Saturday afternoon finally came I sat and listened to the whole thing about 20 times in a row and wore the thing out. It gave me shivers (still does!) and a feeling I hadn’t ever experienced before at that age. It blew me away. The way the song builds up and almost gets angrier and angrier, like he was shouting and desperate to get someone’s attention.
Comfortably Numb (Live) (Pink Floyd, Pulse, 1995)
Rachel Flowers: What’s cool about the live version is how David starts with a little of the studio solo, so that the audience knows where the song is going. As a jazz musician, I rarely perform the beginning of a studio solo to a song, and it’s something I still struggle with at times! David Gilmour’s music impacts me in several ways: writing tunes for the audience and the world to sing for a long time and creating guitar moments that take the music to an emotional level that’s hard to express with words.
Where We Start (David Gilmour, On An Island, 2006)
Phil Manzanera, Roxy Music: David hadn’t made a solo album for 22 years and The Division Bell had been 12 years previously when we started what became On An Island. It has a dreamy, self-reflective atmosphere full of major seventh chords, David’s unique pastoral voice sings a personal lyric and it has a low-key guitar solo which complemented the wistful musical context. It seemed to suggest a possible direction for the album, a sort of modern English chamber music style. I thought it was terrific, the softly strummed acoustics against his lilting vocal.
Echoes (Live) (David Gilmour, Live In Gdańsk, 2008)
Emily Francis, Emily Francis Trio: There’s something wonderfully conversational about the interaction with Richard Wright and David Gilmour. It’s unapologetically epic, and from the first note, you’re completely spellbound. The band have this beautiful ability of playing exactly the right thing at the right time, immersing you in an alternate dimension of sound. The Live In Gdańsk version is particularly poignant, being Wright’s last live performance, but the energy is just amazing. There’s a moment where David whacks the low E string so hard, he knocks it slightly out of tune, only adding to the intensity. It’s brilliant!
In Any Tongue (David Gilmour, Rattle That Lock, 2015)
Bryan Josh, Mostly Autumn: It’s astonishing how much pleasure you can get out of something so very dark. I’m on the edge of tears every time I hear this song, yet I love to wallow in its sublimity. Every molecule of the song paints the subject matter. The sadness in Gilmour’s vocal delivery is the perfect vehicle for Polly Samson’s cutting, straight-to-the- point lyrics. David has been a massive inspiration to me since I was eight years old; I can’t help but emulate him in my own playing – he’s just in my blood.
The Piper’s Call (David Gilmour, Luck And Strange, 2024)
Joey Frevola, Kyros, Edge Of Reality: It’s a gorgeous track with this ghostly sonic palette that burrows deep inside your ears. It might seem odd to focus on this brand-new song in a retrospective about the guy who co-created The Dark Side Of The Moon. If he had retired then and there 50 years ago, he’d still be a music legend today. The thing about legends, though, is there’s a temptation to calcify their legacy prematurely – to decide that they’ve already filled their canon: I want to push against this. David is a living legend.
