For portly old hippies

I have been listening a lot to David Gilmour’s album, On An Island (EMI). We must now call him David, as he is a portly gent of a certain age who will probably get a knighthood the next time a Pink Floyd fan moves into No. 10. Obviously, though, we think of him as Dave, just as Jimmy Page will never be James Page and Robbie Williams will be Robbie Williams when he’s 95 and gaga. Many reviewers objected to the Dave…sorry, David Gilmour record because it’s unmistakably autumnal in theme and texture. The songs are quieter and slower, in the main, than even Pink Floyd fans are accustomed to, although they are also much more direct, and I believe it’s by some distance the best album to emerge from the extended Floyd family since The Wall, a mere 27 years ago. And the perfect Christmas present for any other portly old hippies who haven’t already bought it (of whom there may be six or seven in the country).