Luck and Strange, the latest David Gilmour album, has been a long process. By his solo career standards, this is a quick release. Just the nine years separating Rattle That Lock and this, his latest effort. While singles The Piper’s Call and Between Two Points held the inevitably reflective tones of a man winding down his musical activity, Luck and Strange has a portion missing – as all Gilmour albums do. And so we enter the theatre of Gilmour’s soul once more, a chance to understand his creative process and the intimate details of his life over the last nine years. There is a bitterness still in how Pink Floyd ended, and he will forever be tethered to this. But he looks to infiltrate the points of contention in his past on Luck and Strange. Was it all just a strange bit of luck?
Possibly. His guitar work remains steady and instrumentally accepting of other tools, relegating himself to the backdrop on this title track and making way for some string-reliant moments. He still pokes through with whining notes in the style of all those guitar legends from the previous century. Vocally speaking, Luck and Strange is likely the most interesting Gilmour has been in his solo career. It is not a high bar to clear. While the collected experience is far off the On an Island mark, the playing style and the ease into softer grooves of flourishing guitar and lengthy solos are exceptional. They are on the verge of falling foul of the self-gratifying style but keep pure, slow and groovy. There is a sense of time slipping away for Gilmour heard on this. Not death, but an acceptance of seniority, on The Piper’s Call. We may never know who the piper is, but it spurns one of the better moments for Luck and Strange.
Otherworldly experiences related to his guitar but not featuring it follow The Piper’s Call. A Single Spark roams through fields of creativity and seem to view the longevity of this passion as a curse. An undying flame which could extinguish any moment now. Follow on from those gut-wrenching moments of Between Two Points with a song that, truthfully, could hold a claim for best on the record. Those About Face desires never left Gilmour and Dark and Velvet Nights feels like a soft continuation of it. Hard-drinking, ecstasy-filled nights but imagery of broken talent and change flood the brighter spots. Softer spots from Gilmour are obtuse enough to feel as though they have meaning but ultimately rely on a similar-sounding collection of instrumentals. A good thing they are nice to listen to, but not much more.
Heartfelt, certainly, and more a lament to family life and the connection he has made there from being out of the prolific years of his music, Luck and Strange serves as a dedication to Gilmour’s craft. His experience as a musician has overtaken his time as a person and a reconnection is now underway. Gilmour is getting to grips with a slower pace in his days. These are not the wizened words from an old creator but a dive into his background. Scattered feels like a neater acceptance of those experiences. Ultimately, Luck and Strange is about letting go. Of what, it does not matter. Gilmour hits his stride much better than Rattle that Lock but there is still a component or two missing from his work. He finds comfort too quickly and fails to challenge himself in parts of this album where a reflection of realisation would fit.
