Heh, you have to love the use of the familiar "Dave" in the title of this collection. It's little touches of VOIO pizzazz like this that instill in the viewer a little nervous twinge of "what the hell am I about to see?" just before hitting the "play" button on the VCR (and also make these things such an adventure to seek out and acquire, truth be told). For whatever reason, no matter how horrid the quality, I somehow don't expect to see a 'Rog Waters Compilation' in circulation anytime soon, but it'd be a laugh if someone decides to indulge me.

With that said, as much as I was looking forward to seeing much of this material for the first time, 'The Dave Gilmour Anthology' proves to be as dull as ditchwater on the whole, despite the generally good picture and sound quality throughout. If nothing else, I learned four important things from this watching this little video scrapbook ...

1. While undoubtedly talented, occasionally driven, and possessing a completely unique guitar sound, David Gilmour just isn't cut out for any kind of meaningful solo career. It's just not in the cards.

2. That well known "guitar face" of his seemed to spring up at some point between 1978-1984. Discuss.

3. Gilmour really loves playing with goony, showoff-prone backing bands in an effort to offset his near total lack of compelling stage presence.

4. To put it as delicately as possible ... after the middle of 1985, Dave never looked back, physically. Heh heh.

Kicking off with a five-song live performance sans audience that was originally taped in order to promote his eponymous 1978 solo album (this version was taped from an Italian BBC broadcast in late 1986), we start off seeing ol' Gorgeous Gilmour looking and sounding fine, with his guitar playing suitably up to par, but yet somehow a tad lacking in the "visual performance" department.

OK, I won't mince words anymore ... sitting through this dimly lit performance is about as exciting as watching paint dry (unless you're a guitar player, perhaps, in which case you can study up with the dozens of close-ups showing us long-haired Dave's hands on the frets). "So Far Away," "There's No Way Out Of Here," "Mihalis," "I Can't Breathe Anymore," and "No Way" are played in workman-like note-for-note fashion, with hardly any zeal whatsoever from either Gilmour or his capable backing band (which at the time included his guitar-playing brother Mark, Foreigner bassist Rick Willis, and future 'Wall' backup drummer Willie Wilson). It's fairly obvious just how much stock Gilmour was putting in a solo career at this time just by watching him throughout the span of the five songs -- all he does is stand there gently strumming, picking, singing, and occasionally nibbling at his lower lip in true white-boy "rawk" fashion (and wearing the exact same look of preoccupied boredom/distraction on his face while doing all of the above). So unremittingly bland is this opening bit that it's all too easy to get distracted by the constantly scrolling TV listings at the bottom of the screen (it appears that "Adam 12" was still big overseas at the time), as Dave and Co. give you very little reason to look up more than once or twice a tune.

In order to get something halfway interesting to look at, we have to lower the bar of artistic standards a bit and flash forward into the mid 1980s. It is here that we are given a look at the far higher amount of effort Gilmour put into promoting his second solo album, 'About Face' (not to mention a far better insight at why the album sold far short of expectations). Oh yes, and we also get plenty of zeal up the wazoo this time around (it's either feast or famine with dear ol' Dave in this department, apparently).

I think it can be said without hesitation that the promotional video clips for "Blue Light" (featuring a lip-syncing cameo from longtime Gilmour/Floyd manager Steve O' Rourke) and "All Lovers Are Deranged" are two of the most ill-advised forays into the medium that Gilmour ever ventured into, with *or* without Pink Floyd. The embarrassment factor is definitely higher on the wincingly overcooked "Blue Light" clip, which seemingly sets out to name check every single video cliché from 1984 and damn near succeeds -- a touch of day-glo and a few heavily made-up women in lingerie is all we're missing here, folks. As with the lyrics to the song itself, there seems to be little or no point to the "Blue Light" video, and it's truly heart-rending to watch Gilmour striking ridiculous rawk-gawd poses in white suits, doing a very unconvincing shuffle while he mimes the words, and spending the rest of his onscreen time trying to avoid being in the same frame as those roving gangs of dancing people who burst forth from every foyer, alleyway and stairwell to do their choreographed thing.

On second thought, screw the pity factor -- it's impossible not to burst out laughing at several points during this turkey. I defy anyone to take the Nestea challenge here.

Now, saying that the video for "All Lovers Are Deranged" is better than the one for "Blue Light" may not mean a whole lot, but "All Lovers ..." at least scores points right from the get-go by not having any 'Solid Gold' dancers leaping about in costume. Sadly, this clip squanders it's early lead showing far too many smarmy shots of Gilmour walking with, fighting with, and staring forlornly at some sassy bleach-blond wannabe actress who (judging by the video) can go from "giggle" to "pensive" in less than a second. What a firecracker. Angry Dave then addresses us directly (and in laughably bad lighting), sharing with us such weighty "Pete Townshend wrote THIS?" axioms as "it takes a fight to start a fight," and then playing out the rest of this stomping 'Wall' sound alike with his new touring outfit (whom I'll refer to from now on as the Bleedin' Hair Band).

What starts off as a fairly dull live clip for "Love On The Air" comes up next (it appears that only the most unremarkable or sappy songs on 'About Face' were seen as fit for single promotion), but what starts off as bland rapidly slides downhill as we are forced to endure poodle-haired Raphael Ravenscroft's god-awful sax solo in its endless entirety (lots more Bleedin' Hair Band here as well, including percussionist Jodi Linscott, who turns up like a bad penny on more than half of this compilation).

I may be heading a bit off-topic with this, perhaps, but what in the HELL was with saxophones and early 1980s rock? It's bad enough that guitar and drum solos were a fact of life, but was there a rock band on the planet that did NOT have a comically-attired sax player skulking around in the background, never missing an opportunity to add to the already overcooked stew? Gah.

Anyway, our early descent into Hell isn't over yet. Next up, Gilmour and the BHB make an appearance on 'The Tube' (which looks like a
British version of 'American Bandstand'). After a hilarious introduction from the hosts (one of whom has a look on his face which speaks volumes as to how excited he feels at that moment), Dave and the boys bomb miserably with a thudding, ham-fisted blast through "Until We Sleep" that is so leaden that it makes even "A Great Day For Freedom" sound like "One Slip" in comparison. The studio audience (many of whom look like they showed up to see the Thompson Twins instead) are barely arsed to clap afterwards. I can't say I blame them.

To avoid looking as totally chart-unfriendly as, say, Roger Waters, Gilmour and cohorts then drag out an extended jam-heavy version of "Blue Light," which (I must grudgingly admit) is a pretty energetic performance that at least gets enough people in the crowd moving -- not to mention my own two feet. It appears that Dave suffers a technical problem during the breakdown section of the song, as Mick Ralphs takes over the "racketa racketa" for a brief bit while our leader changes guitars. At least the audience seems partly taken by the performance as they reward the band with a far more boisterous round of applause this time.

It's too bad that "Blue Light" track is really not worth this kind of intense effort we're witnessing here, unlike the version of "Murder" that follows immediately afterward. Sourced from the MTV 'Guitar Greats' concert in late 1984 (and featuring the intro played on electric guitar rather than acoustic), "Murder" packs some serious pyrotechnic punch and is the first real highlight of the compilation, as Gilmour plays a long, extended solo alongside what looks like Anton Fig on the drums and Elvis Costello's evil twin Michael Aaronson on bass.

Jumping solo careers a bit, we land right back in the neighborhood of banal mediocrity as we are treated to the promotional clip for Mason + Fenn's "Lie For A Lie." For those who don't know, this chugging little piece of synthpop froth features a suddenly-plump Gilmour lip-syncing his guest vocals while lounging in a chair and standing by Rick Fenn's piano. There are also lots of visuals that look like people pressing their faces (and other body parts) into those "nail beds" they sell at Spencer's and a guy walking around in a crow costume with an umbrella and hat (in a reference to the album cover, I hope). Oh, Nick Mason's most memorable antic during the video is taking off a series of smaller and smaller hats. Terrific.

Things *finally* take a more positive turn as we reach the footage of Dynamite Dave's sit-in with Pete Townshend's Deep End band at Brixton Academy in 1985, which is certainly more energetic and far easier on the eyes and ears than the preceding lineups (even the sax soloist in this lineup is far less obnoxious than Raphael Ravenscroft). After taking in pretty fair versions of "After The Fire," "Love On The Air," and "I Put A Spell On You," however, the subsequent versions of "Give Blood," "Night Train," and a fucking THIRD run-through of "Blue Light" (complete with an endless and masturbatory drum solo) are taken from an appearance in Cannes, France, and are easily in the worst visual quality of anything on this compilation. Now, aside from seizing the opportunity to inflict "Blue Light" on viewers one more time, exactly why the compiler opts to use this vastly inferior quality Cannes footage instead of the far-superior (and out-of-print) Brixton Academy footage (especially in the case of "Give Blood") demands some explanation. Another burning question raised by this portion of the video - was there some kind of big fedora fad amongst English backing musicians in 1985? Inquiring minds want to know.

Leaving the Deep End behind, we wind up back in the quality outhouse once again as we join in on the 1986 Colombian Volcano Concert (and our first taste in the 'Dave Gilmour Anthology' of the myriad "Rock-For-Someone Or Other" charities that our subject attached himself to in the post-Live Aid era). While one cannot argue the charitable aims of these events, the end musical results were execrable nine times out of ten, and below average for the remaining fraction. Proudly representing latter one out of ten is this benefit show staged to give a helping hand to those whose lives were upended by the eruption of a nearby volcano (and prefaced by Gilmour offering some fumbling words of endorsement in an almost apologetic fashion). Of the three songs presented, I'll tip my cap to "Out Of The Blue," which is an admittedly striking performance. However, it's book-ended by offensively forgettable renditions of "Comfortably Numb" and "Run Like Hell" (which, at face value, seem to be hilariously gauche picks for this occasion anyway) that both give the viewer ample reason to stab at the FFWD button in search of relief.

From the 1987 'Secret Policeman's Third Ball' show comes a rare and intense performance (in unfortunately shakier video/audio quality) of Kate Bush's "Running Up That Hill," in which Gilmour shares vocal duties with lady Kate and the laughably-coiffed Tony Franklin (ex of The Firm), whose appearance embodies all that was wrong with 80's rock fashion. Like our now-longhaired Dave, Kate has certainly seen better days as far as appearance goes, but she remains in fine voice here and is still able to pour on the quirky sexual charisma. A winner.

Gilmour's often-asked-about solo appearance on 'Saturday Night Live' at the end of 1987 follows, and it's pretty damn grating to endure (and not just because of G.E. Smith's and the Saturday Night Live band doing their usual posing for the cameras). This instrumental performance, titled "Ah Robertson, It's You," is just too weighted down by squalling, unnecessary guitar wankery that winds up making the whole thing sound strident and overcooked. A rather dull waste of time.

*Far* better is "Deep In The Blues" from the Les Paul & Friends concert video 'He Changed The Music.' Beautifully thick with smoky, late-night atmosphere, Gilmour just plays it loose to a standard blues progression (following a head start from Les and his band). There's not a lot I can add here without sounding overly gushy, but Dave just does what he does best here -- supplying the kind of fluid licks with acres of space around them that I could listen to forever. Even with Jan Hammer skulking about and, uh, hammering on his ever-present PortaSynth, "Deep In The Blues" is a true showstopper and the best damn part of this whole tape.

A heavily edited (yet still quite amusing in it's own right) comedy bit from a 1990 episode of 'French And Saunders' turns up next. I'll let the words of Vernon Fitch describe the rest ...

Sketch : A comedy sketch about trying to play music from a Ralph McTell - 100 Easy Guitar Tunes book. Because there were no little pictures in the book that show you where to put your fingers on the guitar neck, the book was useless and the author of the book was put on trial. During the trial, various musicians appear, one of which was David Gilmour. He plays a segment of "Another Brick In The Wall (Part 2)," but when he tries to play from the book, he is unable to because there are no little dots that show you where to put your fingers. David Gilmour also takes part in a "Johnny B. Goode" jam with the other musicians at the end of the sketch. The other musicians are Mark Knopfler, Lemmy (Kilmeister), Ralph McTell, and Gary Moore.

(*from 'The Pink Floyd Encyclopedia' by Vernon Fitch. Passage used without permission*)

Unsurprisingly, only the portions we see of the skit are the bits in which Gilmour actually appears. Again, the remainder still manages to elicit a laugh or two, and Dave pulls off his lines with creditable flair.

Documentary footage for Rock Aid Armenia is next up and features a short, but very giggle-worthy interview -

INTERVIEWER - (asking, in effect, why the explosion of the touring and recording activity in the Pink Floyd camp
as of late?)

GILMOUR - "We got rid of Old Misery Guts and (now) we can do what we feel like."

INTERVIEWER - "'Misery Guts' being Roger Waters?"

GILMOUR - "Well spotted! Heh heh heh."

After this exchange, we cut to the song our husky Dave was in the studio laying down guitar parts for along with Brian May ... and Goat, is this grim. While I may have had a bit of malicious fun at the expense of the Colombian Volcano Concert footage a little ways back, the 1990 version of "Smoke On The Water" (by a gaggle of various artists calling themselves Rock Aid Armenia) earns derision as it definitely qualifies as one of the most flea-bitten pieces of shit ever put forth to support an otherwise humane cause two years after the fact. No matter how you slice it, this hard rock Band-Aid project is a sickening waste of talent that could have been used to FAR better ends. For those who wish to put themselves through it, Rock Aid Armenia brings together Gilmour, May, Roger Taylor, Chris Squire, Geoffery Downes, Keith Emerson, Ritchie Blackmore, Tony Iommi, Bryan Adams (?!), Alex Lifeson, Ian Gillan and Bruce Dickinson in order to not only re-record Deep Purple's "Smoke On The Water," but to also bludgeon the tune to a greasy smear on the studio floor. Needless to say, mission fuckin' accomplished.

From this amazing low, we only marginally improve with a (thankfully) brief feature from something called 'Weekend TV.' This is a report concerning our ever-expanding hero and his vintage racecar zooming down a road somewhere to the tune of "One Of These Days." This would all be fine and worthy of watching once if it weren't for the fact that dear ol' Dave apparently knows nothing about the damned buggy and he then goes on to admit that he doesn't drive it very well, either ... but he had some nice toy cars when he was a kid, though. Must have been a reeeeeeaaly slow weekend for entertainment, eh?

An unaccredited, mysterious snip of video follows all of this mucking about with vintage Hot Wheels, and it's a promo clip for an unnamed project featuring Bob Geldof, Howard Jones, and a few seconds of Gilmour guitar work. While I'm curious as to what exactly this is, it doesn't matter a whole hell of a lot anyway, since the minute Dave is off the screen, we forage onwards and arrive at a duet from 'Guitar - The Video' by ex-Steely Dan axe-man Jeff "Skunk" Baxter. There's not much to report here, as weasel-phizzed Baxter and an utterly silent Gilmour trade licks in Abbey Road studios for a few minutes. Sure, I suppose this is a vaguely interesting "Signs Of Life"-y kind of passage that briefly swoops about the mirror-filled studio, but it ultimately goes nowhere and kinda just comes to an end. Afterwards, a clearly upstaged Baxter leans in to shake Dave's hand and exclaims "very nice!" as if he were complimenting a six-year child who had just cleaned his room.

Of much greater musical and visual interest are two clips from 1991's 'Amnesty International's Big 30' concert. Being the musical director and bandleader of the event, Gilmour got to jam with such luminaries as Tom Jones, Daryl Hall and Spinal Tap (all of which are unseen here), as well as then-newcomer Seal, who lends fine voice to a bracing cover of "Hey Joe" (though the horn section really should have stood down for this one). It is here that we finally get to see Dave's his much-talked-about Jimi Hendrix impersonation, and I have to say, it lived up to my meager expectations.

After "Hey Joe," we get a quick peek at two men touching their butts together (yes, you read that right), and then on into the evening's performance of "On The Turning Away" (and it is only here that we notice Gary Wallis playing drums and Jon Carin manning keyboards and backing vocals). Featuring the quickest "intro" section in the song's performance history, "On The Tunrning Away" is unpleasantly brief - not because of a blown solo or timing constraint, but because ITV's next commercial break apparently couldn't wait any longer. While aggravated with the song being cut off, I reasoned with myself that this unkind cut at least left a little more air time for more deserving U.K. pop luminaries such as Jason Donovan, Kim Wilde, Kyle Minogue, Pat & Mick or whoever the hell was next on the day's cavalcade of stars.

Now, if our compiler had been possessed of better taste, all of this wildly erratic material could have come to a pleasant close after Gilmour joins John Martyn at the Shaw Theater for a very mellow, lighter-than-air track called "Look At That Girl." After listening to this shuffling, intimate recording (perfectly sweetened with emotive, dolphin-song like touches from dapper Dave), we are fully ready to coast off into the blue screen ether with a warm smile on our face …

But noooo, instead, we are given "bonus track" of sorts called 'The Making Of Rockestra.' Originally aired on the BBC in 1979 to promote Paul McCartney's album 'Back To The Egg,' this documentary focuses in on Sir Paul's decision to record two tracks from said album with a "rock orchestra" consisting of Gilmour, Pete Townshend, John Paul Jones, Ronnie Lane, Kenny Jones, and John Bonham (amongst others). Now, if this were left intact on it's own, this could have been fairly entertaining if for nothing else than to play name-that-face, but what we are given instead is about a dozen snips of no more than three to five seconds apiece of every single shot in the video that has Gilmour appearing (or even being mentioned) in it and nothing else. Reduced to aggravating visual nonsense, the 'Making Of Rockestra' bit is therefore a perfect way to end to a frustratingly schizoid (and thus difficult to truly recommend) compilation.

'Mihalis' Live in the Studio - 1978	'Until We Sleep' The Tube (1984-03-30)	'Comfortably Numb' Colombian Volcano Concert (1986-02-09)
'Deep in the Blues' Les Paul & Friends (1988-01-18)	Interview Rock Aid Armenia (1989-08-05)	'On the Turning Away' Amnesty International's Big 3-0 (1991-12-28)