Come Together Play The Dark Side Of The Moon – Civic Theatre, 23 August 2025: Review & Photo Gallery

Roger Bowie and Photos by Leonie Moreland

24th August 2025

Dark Side of The Moon. Syd Barrett read about two old bluesmen in the liner notes of something else he had his hands on at the time.

Pink Anderson and Floyd Council are now remembered because of Syd, more than the music they played. The band Syd sort of lead became the Pink Floyd Blues Band, after several earlier name changes to a series of inconsequential efforts he and his mate Roger Waters had been involved in. All this of course is totally irrelevant to history in comparison with what was to come. Apart from what’s in a name?

Tonight, there is no moon visible from the heights of the Civic. Only stars, on the bright side, and dim shades of grey stick insects wobbling on the distant stage, occasionally enlightened by the big screen, unless you have binoculars.

But the sound…. oh, the sound! if magic had a sound, then this would be it.

We don’t need to see the band, we know who they are already. The Come Together Supergroup is just as well known by its core as it is by the extended cohort of vocalists who shine on the stage like crazy diamonds.

Tonight, we have the Phoenix Foundation brothers, Luke Buda and Sam Scott, joined by Milan Borich, as lead vocalists, supported by Dianne Swann and Jenny Skulander, more of whom in a jiffy.

Jol Mulholland, Brett Adams, Mike Hall, Matthias Jordan, Alastair Deverick, Nick Atkinson, Finn Scholes form the band, and I also know you know by now where they fit.

And you also know they comprise our best guitarists, our best bass player, our best drummer, saxophonist, geniuses and keyboarders. Simply the best.

This homage to Pink Floyd is as close as you will get to 1994’s The Pulse, at Earls Court in London. Where your writer sat in the sound and lighting box, in the middle of the arena, and chatted to Mike Rutherford during the interval, thanks to a serendipitous encounter with a certain Mr. Sal Monella, which, for now, belongs to another story.

I think of that moment from miles in the sky at the Civic, and I am at peace. Because the sound is just magic (or did I say that already?).

Back then, a compete run through of Dark Side of the Moon came in the second half.

Tonight the heartbeat speaks to us from the outset and parenthesizes the offering 42 minutes later in an Eclipse. Which incidentally became the working title of the album, commenced as demos in Roger’s garden shed, before the original title was reinstated after Medicine Head’s album of the same name flopped.

Thanks Medicine Head, for saving history by failure. Thanks to me and Wiki for that trivial pursuit.

So it came to be. The greatest Rock album of all time (apart from half a dozen others I could mention) was conceived as a concept, and piloted live to rapt audiences who also believed in magic after being overwhelmed by the effects of demonic laugher, bird song, cash registers, quirky voices*, tape loops, synthesizers, and, who’d have thought, musical instruments.

*Did you know that one of the voices in the background is that of Peter Watts, Pink Floyd’s Road Manager, who died in 1976 of a heroin overdose, leaving behind a 7-year-old daughter, the actress Naomi Watts? Every day’s a school day (leave those kids alone).

But this was extraordinary. A collection of songs which segue seamlessly apart from the sound of the needle bumping and burping while you struggle to your feet to change the side.

A collection of songs which entrance and enhance no matter the impairments you have administered, and even without them.

In 1973 this album, at the age of 19, changed my life. And cemented Pink Floyd amongst the greatest of all times.

Tonight, the album is not interrupted by old technologies. It’s all there, seamless, with exquisite musicianship and matching vocals.

Clare Torry was unknown before engineer Alan Parsons brought her in to howl The Great Gig in The Sky, an anguished response to expose the false positive of the narrative (possible Syd) who claims not to be afraid of death.

Bullshit, not true. Ask Jenny Skulander who is awesome in vocal dexterity. Be very afraid. Clare, meet Jenny, 53 years on.

And what about Nick Atkinson, sax perfect in introducing Us and Them, which in turn segues into Any Colour You Like, as long as it’s dark.

The lunatic is on the grass, listening to the glorious harmonies “I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon, featuring Matthias and Brett along with Milan, pitch perfect. There’s no dark side of the moon, it’s all dark. Just a metaphor for human irrationality.

It’s over in a heartbeat, but a rate within perfect variability range, heralding the notion of immortality in song. This is an album of the ages, for all ages, and timeless to infinity.

Thank God it’s only the intermission. We have time to Breathe.

Alright, second set underway with a blissful Brett as Gilmour solo, and the opening sequence from 1975’s Wish You Were Here. The crazy diamond shines on.

The musical feature above all else tonight is the intertwining, interlocking, harmony of three guitars. Brett, Jol and Luke for the most part, and the second half highlight is probably the intro to the title track (Wish You Were Here), which is pitch perfect and immaculate to watch, if you are close enough, which I’m not.

And off we go on a journey which embraces the Dark Side with a couple of bangers from its predecessor, Meddle, successors Wish You Were Here and The Wall.

A nod to the post Waters era, from A Momentary Lapse of Reason and a rather surprising dive into The Final Cut.

The choice of albums and songs tonight can be seen as firstly a homage to Syd, with all its undercurrents of mental anguish and illness, all its themes of a hard life on the road, morphing into the dark side of the worldview of Roger Waters.

I see the modern era of Pink Floyd starting with Meddle and enduring through to Wall. But of course, there are 5 albums before Meddle, and they are far from lacking interest, if only because of Syd.

All over the place Syd, whose descent into insanity has a pathological impact on the band until partially exorcised by Wish (you might argue that A Momentary Lapse is a return to the trauma of Syd).

If there’s something missing tonight from the setlist, it’s the songs from the Syd Barrett era, particularly in view of his haunting background presence in Dark Side. A little taste of Arnold Layne, See Emily Play, or Astronomy Divine would have enhanced the homage, but my criticism pales and should be seen as such.

Speaking of trauma, the latter part of Pink Floyd the originals (before he left) can be seen as dominated by the wrath of Waters.

This includes the Orwellian Animals (no songs tonight), the magnificent but cutting Wall and the indifferent Final Cut, whose two songs tonight highlight the descent of Roger Waters into his dark, jingoistic, imperialist ranting phase.

It’s sad. And of course, it ruptured the band, with the temporary departure of Richard Wright, and the ultimate split with Gilmour. One of These Days… I’m going to cut you into little pieces, from Meddle, is strangely prophetic. The Final Cut is bleak.

But back to the music. Not Now John could be funny, but the evening is saved by the final sequence of Pink Floyd bangers (almost a contradiction in terms) and the final brick making a virtue of the Waters’ Wall.

Never mind my musings, the audience are standing, and the ovation obliterates even the most silent of buts.