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For the recording of this, his Grammy-winning and best-selling solo album The End Of The Innocence, former Eagles drummer Don Henley recruited a band of musicians and singers that reads like a Who’s Who of rock’n’roll: members of the Heartbreakers and Toto, Sheryl Crow, Axl Rose, Melissa Etheridge, Edie Brickell and most notably, Bruce Hornsby, who adds some classy piano touches to the title track, a Top 10 hit in the US.

Much of The End Of The Innocence was a poignant reflection on Reagan-era America, with Henley juxtaposing the rise of neoliberalism against the loss of the idealistic American dream, the bittersweet ache of ageing, and faded romance.

“We live in a time of great mistrust,” Henley told the New York Times. “The feeling that we are one as a nation is rapidly disappearing, and that carries over into people’s private personal lives. I mention lawyers several times on the album. That’s because of the pervasive sense of every man for himself and every woman for herself. It’s a very insidious thing.”

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Every week, Album of the Week Club listens to and discusses the album in question, votes on how good it is, and publishes our findings, with the aim of giving people reliable reviews and the wider rock community the chance to contribute.

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Other albums released in June 1989

• Agent Orange – Sodom
• Flowers in the Dirt – Paul McCartney
• Passion – Peter Gabriel
• In Step – Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble
• World in Motion – Jackson Browne
• Trouble in Angel City – Lion
• Extreme Aggression – Kreator
• Gretchen Goes To Nebraska – King’s X
• Mr. Big – Mr. Big
• The Real Thing – Faith No More
• Cosmic Thing – The B-52s
• Bad English – Bad English
• The Iron Man: The Musical – Pete Townshend
• Magnum Cum Louder – Hoodoo Gurus
• Margin Walker – Fugazi
• Anderson Bruford Wakeman Howe – Anderson Bruford Wakeman Howe

What they said…

“Don Henley took some time before completing his highly anticipated third album, The End of the Innocence. Although he manages to duplicate much of the magic of his previous album, Henley has backed off of the synthesisers and expanded his musical palette. He uses background vocals to great effect, whether it’s the tragic ballad New York Minute (with vocal group Take 6) or the angry rocker I Will Not Go Quietly (with Axl Rose).” (AllMusic)

“In an era where individual songs often overshadow albums, The End Of The Innocence stands out as not only a timeless work but one that is cohesive and memorable. Yes, it is most certainly an album of the 80s, but its production is so strong that it can still be appreciated by modern audiences as Don Henley’s talent as a musician knows few peers. For those with an interest in Henley, the Eagles, or classic rock, The End Of The Innocence is an essential listen.” (Subjective Sounds)

“Unlike most major pop albums from the era, The End of the Innocence pays great heed to self-awareness, lessons, and mature depth. It may be cliché to describe the album simply as “pop with a message,” but the precision of Henley’s lamentations flavour well with the over-the-top sonic nature of an 80s album. Henley’s greatest legacy will probably always reside in the legendary annals of Eagles history, but The End of the Innocence cemented his reputation as a solo artist, and more importantly, a storyteller. (Sputnik Music)

What you said…

Philip Qvist: I cannot fault Don Henley’s lyrics, while his voice is a perfect vehicle for the songs that he has written, either as a solo artist or as part of the Eagles. I don’t rate him as a drummer, but that isn’t an issue when the likes of Jeff Porcaro enter the studio.

As is the case with his previous albums, one Mr Henley has surrounded himself with great musicians, songwriters, producers and backing vocalists, including Bruce Hornsby, various members of the Heartbreakers and Toto, and his ever-dependable side man, Danny Kortchmar (or Danny Kootch as he appears on Carole King’s Tapestry album). My picks from this album include The End of the Innocence, The Heart of the Matter, Little Tin God and Shangri-La, while New York Minute was just too whimsical for its own good.

So lyrically and musically, The End Of The Innocence is a pretty decent album to listen to, while it did tone down the synthesisers that were a constant feature on his previous two records. However, while it remains his biggest-selling album, I do have my misgivings about this particular record, mainly that an artist’s best-selling album is not necessarily his best.

I would argue that Building the Perfect Beast is Don Henley’s solo masterpiece, while I would also argue that his debut, I Can’t Stand Still, is also a superior album. While The End Of The Innocence is a pretty good album, I won’t be giving it much more than a 7.

Mark Herrington: My favourite Don Henley album, one that is anchored by some of his best-ever ballads.

The real strength of this album is the tracks in the style of the Eagles’ The Last Resort, namely The End Of The Innocence, Last Worthless Evening, New York Minute, and The Heart of the Matter. The uptempo songs are generally not as good as those on Building the Perfect Beast, although the enjoyable I Will Not Go Quietly and If Dirt Were Dollars are the exception.

I really like Henley’s vocals, and here he’s on top form, with help from the likes of Bruce Hornsby to give its best moments a great laid-back vibe.

Regarding any feelings about his personality, I couldn’t care less, as we are reviewing his music. Overall, it’s probably his classiest album, due to the strength of the slower songs.

Gary Claydon: I always liked Henley’s vocals, and he’s a competent enough drummer, but The End Of The Innocence is just dull. Ultra safe, conservative, white collar AOR/pop rock, which nevertheless sells by the bucket load in certain markets. People have done jail time for lesser crimes than Little Tin God.

Chris Elliott: Not an 80’s cliché left behind. Add in the cast of thousands (endless writers), and it sounds like an 80’s compilation, including what sounds like a Huey Lewis outtake.

The tracks vary from car crash (cod reggae) to bad hard(ish) rock through to okay, albeit overplayed. The guest vocals really emphasise the feel of a playlist more than an album.

Bar two tracks, it just passes by. You make dinner, it doesn’t distract, then you forget it.

Evan Sanders: I’m glad I listened to The End Of The Innocence a couple of times this week, as my opinion rose after the second time, possibly because the first time I had turned on shuffle mode in Spotify, and I was really puzzled by the song order.

What I really like about the album is the social commentary lying beneath or right upfront in many of the songs. As he says with his guest singers on the third song, he will not go quietly. There are multiple strong songs which have remained radio staples, from the title song, as well as Last Worthless Evening, New York Minute, If Dirt Were Dollars, and The Heart Of The Matter, the last of which could almost be interpreted as a break-up song with his Eagles bandmates.

A hidden and prescient gem is Little Tin God, which could easily be a b-side, but has lyrics that make me think of today’s AI-driven culture. If the Eagles had not come back together a few years after this one, I wonder if Henley would have devoted more energy to these kinds of songs, rather than playing Hotel California and Take It Easy night after night. I’ll be listening to his follow-up efforts next. 7/10.

Greg Schwepe: So, when your mega-huge band is in the middle of a 14-year vacation, you’ve still got musical ideas that you want to share. And when you’re a prolific songwriter who’s written some pretty big songs, you can probably pump out albums fairly easily (says the person who has never released an album!). The End Of The Innocence was Henley’s third solo album, and at that point, I’m guessing Henley wasn’t sure if he was going to be a solo artist from this point forward or would eventually get back with his Eagles bandmates.

Don Henley has always had a lot of intelligent, insightful things to say in his lyrics. There is a lot to chew on lyrically in The End Of The Innocence, and just as much to chew on musically. I’m going to make this more of an album review rather than a literature review. But if you want to peel back the onion on every song on this album, there’s plenty of onion to go around. I certainly don’t know where Henley was coming from on every song, but for me it’s “here it is…here’s what I see… you figure it out and make your own conclusions.” And for me, it was the current state of things in America, all across various demographics and geographies at the time.

The title track opens with the distinctive keyboards of Bruce Hornsby. His piano style is as distinctive as the guitar tones of Carlos Santana or Brian May. And that’s just the start of the musician firepower on this album. When I read the album credits again, I was floored by the list. Axl Rose, Danny Kortchmar, Mike Campbell, Waddy Wachtel, Steve Jordan, Stan Lynch, Jeff Porcaro, Pino Palladino, David Paich, Patty Smyth, Melissa Etheridge, Edie Brickell, Sheryl Crow. Need I go on? I could! Massive talent base there.

Henley is another songwriter (along with Mark Knopfler) who can paint a picture with his lyrics. With Building The Perfect Beast he’d already provided the lyrics for me to envision a “Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac” and characters in and around the Sunset Grill. And there’s more of that on this album.

There’s the yearning of the title track. The subtle rage of I Will Not Go Quietly with Axl’s background vocals adding emphasis. The chugging The Last Worthless Evening and its take on relationships. The jazz bar intro of New York Minute. Another picture painted. If the strings and piano don’t set a mood, I don’t know what does. The funky Shanghai-La and its funky cousin Gimme What You Got.

There is no filler on this album. Nothing I have to skip past. In my case, it’s the opposite; it’s going back and playing the same song a few times in a row. And that one for me is If Dirt Were Dollars, with my favourite line “If dirt were dollars, we’d all be in the black…”

The ringing tones of The Heart Of The Matter ” close out the album; there are a lot of moods in those five-plus minutes. A perfect closer to tie this one together. Another picture painted.

8 out of 10 on this one for me. This one builds on the strengths of Building The Perfect Beast and ups the ante to make it a nice bookend to that one.

John Davidson: There was some excellent music created in the 80s despite the glossy production and overuse of synth drums. This is not one of them.

You can’t deny Henley’s chops as a lyricist (look at the Eagles songs he wrote), but they are wasted here on trite tunes and lifeless production.

The second-rate Hornsby piano-led opener is probably the best the album has to offer. Shangri La is a poor song on a decidedly dull album. But it’s still heading downhill.

Lots of artists were exploring/exploiting calypso and reggae sounds in the 80s, but Little Tin God has to be one of the worst. If Dirt Were Dollars is (I presume) supposed to be the Boys Of Summer-style hit from this album, but it lacks attack and feels like it’s holding back rather than rocking out.

Brian Hart: I’ve got to admit I’m kinda surprised by some of the negative reviews on this album. Let me start by saying Don Henley is not an artist I typically listen to. I’m more of a 80/90’s hard rock fan.

Surprisingly, I actually own this album. I remember liking the singles and bought the CD used. I never really gave the other songs a listen. I revisited this album, and I was pleasantly surprised.

Henley is a master at producing great introspective mid-tempo music. The title track, New York Minute, The Last Worthless Evening, and The Heart of the Matter are classics. They’ve aged well and still sound great.

What surprised me was the harder rocking songs I Will Not Go Quietly (Axl!), If Dollars Were Dirt, and Gimmie What You Got (shout out for the excellent guitar work on this one). How Badly Do You Want It, Shangri La, and Little Tin God fall short for me. They’re too experimental for my liking, and the 80s keyboards and electronic drums completely kill the vibe for me.

Overall, I was pleasantly surprised. I have to note how much I appreciate the lyrics on this album. Today’s artists are extremely lazy when it comes to lyrics. It’s usually four lines for the verse and then straight to the chorus. Henley’s lyrics are long and well thought out. The thoughtfulness of the lyrics on this album cannot be understated – even if you don’t like them. I can’t say that this will be on regular repeat. However, I will definitely listen to this album more than I did previously. 7/10.

John Edgar: This is certainly my least favourite of Mr Henley’s 80s output, yet it’s still a decent release. Surprisingly, this was his best seller, but that may be because initial sales were boosted by his previous album, which had multiple radio hits and videos all over MTV.

At that time period in America, MTV definitely ruled the day. It lacks some of the 80s production vibe featured on his first two solo releases, and because of that, The End Of The Innocence may seem a little less dated than its two predecessors. Now, almost 42 years after the original release date, the whole affair just feels a little…average. It lacks the bounce of his first release, and it lacks the great lineup of songs on his second release.

I have all of Mr Henley’s solo releases in my music collection, but when I get in the mood to listen to some Henley, this is probably the least likely of his releases to get played. In 2012, Rolling Stone had it on their list of the 500 greatest albums of all time. But then again, Rolling Stone lost touch with the real rock world way before 2012.

Henry Martinez: Building The Perfect Beast is typically considered Henley’s solo peak, but I’d argue he reached it here. It has a more organic feel than the mid-80s processed production of Building The Perfect Beast.

Let’s start with the opening title track, with Bruce Hornsby providing the catchy piano bed, not unlike his timeless The Way It Is. Both are social commentary, but Henley is more biting here with his line, “They’re beating plowshares into swords/For this tired old man that we elected king.” (still relevant!)

From there, Henley simply decides not to constrain himself to any one style. His choices of backing vocalists for certain songs illustrate this: Ivan Neville (Shangri-La), Patty Smythe (How Bad Do You Want It?), Edie Brickell and Melissa Etheridge (Gimme What You Got), Sheryl Crow and J.D. Souther (If Dirt Were Dollars). These are among the weaker tracks, but hearing those familiar voices lifts everything up a notch. In other words, no song is easily skippable (except perhaps for the faux reggae Little Tin God).

But the most celebrated backing vocals came from Axl Rose on I Will Not Go Quietly, a hard rocker that would have benefited if Slash had also made an appearance. Danny Kortchmar is a perfectly fine guitarist, but not especially known for power chords, which this song demanded. But turn it up, and you’ll at least get the idea.

Aside from the title track, three tunes serve as the album’s anchor. New York Minute is a gorgeous arrangement with Henley finally showing a vulnerability he seemingly always tries to hide. This is one of his solo songs the Eagles always play (had they stayed together for an artistic statement in the ’80s, this song would have fit nicely). The Last Worthless Evening is the first bookend for Relationship Don on this record. It’s very earnest yet sincere in his message to his potential partner; you can do better, don’t settle. No wonder it was an MTV hit.

The closing track is the other bookend, The Heart of the Matter. Tom Petty guitarist Mike Campbell returns after supplying The Boys of Summer on the previous album. This is so much more heartfelt and profound both musically and lyrically. It’s not a breakup song; it’s an aftermath one. He’s wishing his former lover well, but the phrasing and words cut deep emotionally. Anyone in a similar situation can relate (and probably shed a tear) when hearing the money line: “I think it’s about forgiveness/Forgiveness/Even if/Even if/You don’t love me anymore.”

The song and album fade into oblivion, and we as listeners are left to pick up the pieces. I think in his heart of hearts, Henley knew this was his solo peak, which is why hell froze over five years later when the Eagles reformed. But at least he left a statement of purpose behind, one that is eminently listenable all these years later.

Adam Ranger: I so want to like Don Henley’s solo stuff. But I can’t listen to the albums in their entirety. Any of them. Just not my style. I like a lot of his lyrics. But in the main, the songs are just not inspiring for me.

The perfect Don Henley album would be selected songs from all five solo albums. Controversial maybe, but I think 2000’s Inside Job stands out as the best of those five.

So I can’t score this album highly. It’s not that it’s awful or badly played, but it’s just too 80s AOR/MOR for my personal tastes, and I don’t feel inspired to listen to it again.

Mike Canoe: Several decades have not softened my dislike for The End of Innocence. I was 40 years too young for this album when it came out, and I’m almost 80 years too young for it now. At its worst, it’s the simpering sentiments of a sanctimonious asshole wallowing in self-pity for himself and his fellow boomers.

Of the five singles, the click track title track is the nadir, while New York Minute is redeemed by the harmony vocals. I Will Not Go Quietly displays Henley, one of the big a-holes of the 70s, sharing the mic with Axl Rose, one of the biggest a-holes of the 80s, yowling about how they’re going to keep on being a-holes. How Bad Do You Want It? Gimme What You Got and Little Tin God are OK in that slumming as a bar band sort of way. For me, solo Henley begins with Dirty Laundry and ends with The Boys of Summer. Nothing on The End Of The Innocence comes close.

Final score: 6.80 (64 votes cast, total score 442)

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In 2020 Prog looked back over David Gilmour’s solo career beyond Pink Floyd, which at that time amounted to just four albums, along with several production and countless session credits.

“For me it’s much less complicated to work alone,” David Gilmour said in 2006, with his characteristic understatement. Yet among those who would rate a David Gilmour album, few would even consider him – even after all these years – a solo artist.

Insteam most think of him, more now perhaps than anyone else, as the ongoing embodiment of Pink Floyd, the group he joined in late 1967 as a live replacement for Syd Barrett. Steady, strong-willed and undoubtedly his own person, Gilmour has stealthily sought to preserve the legacy of a group that – it could be argued – its other two leaders ( Barrett and Roger Waters) sought, if not to destroy, then certainly undermine.

Gilmour has never been especially prolific, or taken to the stage with the same gusto as Waters, whose stadium shows in the 21st century have continued where The Wall left off. Gilmour works under the radar as much as a multi-millionaire lead guitarist with one of the most successful bands of all time can. He has let his playing speak for itself – his impeccable taste and career choices have marked him out as someone who has hardly been forced to do things he would rather not – unlike the final years of Pink Floyd under Waters.

Unlike other bands of their day, Pink Floyd were pretty insular and there were few guest appearances from them on others’ records. They stopped being together round the clock after the success of The Dark Side Of The Moon, and Gilmour began to dabble with production, working closely with country rockers Unicorn.

He oversaw their second album, Blue Pine Trees in 1974 and went on to produce another album and a half for them; but the Ken Baker-led outfit never achieved the acclaim they deserved. Gilmour would be luckier with his next A&R spotting – he paid for three demos for the young Kate Bush. It was an association that lasts until this day; Gilmour was spotted at the final show of her Hammersmith residency in 2014.

Released in May 1978, Gilmour’s self-titled first solo album was a classic example of getting one’s head together in the country during time off from his parent group. While Waters was off building The Wall, Gilmour got together with his pre-Floyd Bullitt/Flowers bandmates bassist Rick Wills and drummer Willie Wilson.

Aside from Barrett’s albums (which, lest we forget, were produced by Gilmour) and Waters’ soundtrack to The Body with Ron Geesin, David Gilmour was the first ‘proper’ Pink Floyd solo album.

Recorded in the South of France, David Gilmour has lovely moments. Cry From The Street has echoes of Sheep; the Shadows’ guitar lines of Mihalis; the Roy Harper collaboration Short And Sweet (Gilmour would appear on his 1980 album The Unknown Soldier); Raise My Rent has fabulous guitar parts (and towards the end a figure that would be used directly in Another Brick In The Wall Part II).

It was clearly Gilmour’s Dark Side/Wish You Were Here vision of the Floyd rather than Waters’ Animals one. In some respects it feels like the follow-up to Obscured By Clouds. Charting inside the Top 30 on both sides of the Atlantic, it was “good, but without the emotional peaks of the Floyd at its best,” The Guardian opined. “This album blatantly demonstrates just how much of the notorious Floyd ‘sound’ comes directly from Gilmour,” said Sounds.

“The first one was a quick blast,” Gilmour told this writer in 2002. “It was all Rick and Willie encouraging me to get going. We congregated in the south of France, knocked out a few jams. It was really off the top of our heads, it was fun – comparatively, compared to Pink Floyd.”

For Gilmour, Pink Floyd was about to become considerably less fun. In fact, one of the moments of relief was Comfortably Numb, which grew from an outtake from Gilmour’s first album, not unlike the track So Far Away. The success and the antagonism between Pink Floyd during The Wall led Gilmour to be the only member of the group available to re-record Money for 1981’s A Collection Of Great Dance Songs when Capitol wouldn’t licence the original to Columbia in the States.

After his request for more time to complete songs for consideration on The Final Cut was turned down by Waters, Gilmour made his next album in 1983 in Paris and London. It was recorded, as Gilmour said, “at a time when we knew Roger wasn’t going to be part of anything we did, but before he’d officially left. He had us trapped in limbo. I was putting my toe in the water.”

Appearing in March ’84, About Face was co-produced by Bob Ezrin and its arrangements were by Michael Kamen. With the Kick Horns, Anne Dudley on synthesisers and at least two members of Paul Young’s The Royal Family, it is an archetypal mid-80s artefact. The album’s most successful track, You Know I’m Right, was a supposed barb at Waters.

“Roger addresses himself to whole problems in life and then tries to expand and broaden that and make a whole album fit around that sort of idea,” he told The Boston Globe in 1984. “He wants to explore that idea in very, very, very great depth from many angles, which I don’t have any disagreement with. But there are moments when I personally would not make some of the things quite so preachy and complaining.”

It’s not that Gilmour didn’t go in for some discussion of the hot ideas that were floating round – Cruise looked at the cruise missiles that were then stationed in Britain; Murder was a take on John Lennon’s assassination. Gilmour’s first solo tour followed, with a band including Mick Ralphs on guitar and Chris Slade on drums. The shows featured but three Floyd songs; a balance that would be redressed in future.

During this extended limbo period, Gilmour did various sessions: “I was bored and flattered to be asked,” he said. “Some of the things I don’t have a lot of affection for, and some I’ve never even heard. I can become a perfectionist when I’m with Pink Floyd, but going in, doing a guitar solo and then leaving is great.”

He produced the Dream Academy’s Life In A Northern Town, and his work can be heard on About Face collaborator Pete Townshend’s White City: A Novel album, Grace Jones’ Slave To The Rhythm and Bryan Ferry’s Boys And Girls. It was through this connection that Gilmour became the sole Pink Floyd representative at Live Aid, playing as a session man with Ferry’s band.

Suddenly, there was no need for more solo work – Roger Waters left Pink Floyd, declaring it over. “I was unencumbered and carried on doing Pink Floyd,” Gilmour recalled in 2002. “There didn’t seem to be any reason to do a solo project.”

He rebuilt Floyd and took it forward with two studio albums (A Momentary Lapse Of Reason in 1987 and The Division Bell in 1994) and two live albums (Delicate Sound Of Thunder in 1988 and Pulse in 1995). Roger Waters may have been winning an intellectual argument but Gilmour was campaigning hard for the heart and soul of the group.

After the last Floyd tour finished in October 1994, Gilmour retreated to a world of playing as a session man, most notably on Paul McCartney’s Run Devil Run album. Playing live at the Cavern with the Beatle in December 1999, Gilmour managed to persuade McCartney to sing I Saw Her Standing There, with Gilmour doing the John Lennon parts.

“I didn’t know what to do with leisure time, but now I’m quite good at it,” Gilmour told The Guardian in 1978. As the 21st century dawned, Gilmour had become very good at filling his time with his marriage to writer Polly Samson and his new young family. Intermittent Floyd business would always be in the background, like working collectively (remotely, of course) on projects such as 2001’s Echoes greatest hits package.

Gilmour made a rare solo appearance at Robert Wyatt’s Meltdown at London’s Royal Festival Hall in 2001, and, enjoying the experience, booked his own solo gigs at the same venue in 2002. It marked the rebirth of Gilmour as a solo artist.

The shows were a low-key celebration of his career, and included more Floyd songs than he had ever played live before on his own, with the ‘doctor’ part of Comfortably Numb being played by Bob Geldof and Robert Wyatt. It established a tradition of Gilmour working with a ‘guest doctor’ at a lot of his shows.

As the 00s progressed, Gilmour began work on a new album with his friend and collaborator Phil Manzanera. During recording, Gilmour received a call from Bob Geldof that was to pull off the unthinkable: a one-off Pink Floyd reunion. Few expected the group to play together for Live 8 in July 2005, and its memory grows ever more poignant – the image of Gilmour in full (un)comfortable strum beside the double-denimed Waters, marking the final time that all four Floyd members would be on stage, with mention and image of Syd Barrett on the screens, in the park where the group had played free concerts in the late 60s. Gilmour was later to dismiss the performance as “sleeping with your ex-wife.”

Released eight months after Live 8, On An Island – the album on which he’d been working – was remarkable. Secure in the knowledge that, if anything, his Floyd had triumphed in the bitter battle with Waters, he could make the album that he wanted, 22 years after About Face. On An Island was described by The Times as “a doddery old uncle to Floyd’s 1975 opus Wish You Were Here,” before continuing it was “a sort of sun-dappled Saga-rock in contentment is tempered by an attendant awareness of mortality.”

It was business as usual, and everything you would expect from a Floyd album. The instrumental Castellorizon that opened the album gave it an immediate familiarity – with Gilmour’s lonesome solo guitar riffing, emerging from banks of synths, before collapsing into the mellow title track, supported by Graham Nash and David Crosby on vocals. Take A Breath upped the tempo, but, generally speaking, it was an ultra-pleasant, mid-paced, well-written, beautifully produced work.

It was the tour that supported the album that found Gilmour able to stretch out and create an amazing combination of old and new. There was almost a tacit acceptance of what most of the audience wanted to hear, and Floyd warhorses were duly brought out of the stable, while – just like Floyd had done in the 70s – the new album, in this case, On An Island, was played in its entirety in the show’s first half.

Gilmour’s residency at the Royal Albert Hall was poignant. On May 29, 2006, David Bowie joined Gilmour on stage to sing Arnold Layne, Pink Floyd’s first single from 1967 (when Bowie was just beginning). He continued by playing the guest doctor on Comfortably Numb.

The Telegraph said: “A grey-suited David Bowie strolled on to supply a beautifully apt mockney… As the lights went mental, and Bowie and Gilmour duetted on Comfortably Numb, a patchy show miraculously pipped Pink Floyd for drama in the end.” It was to be Bowie’s final UK appearance.

Less than six weeks later, Barrett died, aged 60. Gilmour had been the keeper of the flame for years, ensuring Barrett’s material was not only played live by Pink Floyd or himself, but also placed on live releases.

It was with regret that he had not reached out: “I did know where he lived; I could have invited myself in for a cup of tea,” Gilmour said in 2007. “Syd and I were friends as teenagers and had a lot of memories that had nothing to do with Floyd. Some of that might have cheered him up.”

The tour was captured on the fine Live In Gdansk LP set, and the film of the Royal Albert Hall shows – Remember That Night – was released on DVD in September 2007. It was heralded with a screening and live extravaganza at the Odeon Leicester Square.

As well as the film, Gilmour took to the stage to play Castellorizon, and then, later, played a loose 10-minute jam with Rick Wright, Guy Pratt, Jon Carin, Phil Manzanera, Dick Parry and Steve Di Stanislao. It was to be Wright’s final ever live performance; Gilmour’s keyboard foil was to die in September 2008.

In summer 2010, Gilmour asked Waters to help him to raise money for the Palestinian children’s charity Hoping Foundation. In July, in Oxfordshire, the duo appeared together to play four songs with a band that included stalwarts Guy Pratt and Waters’ son Harry.

Together they sang, with a ladling of irony, To Know Him Is To Love Him and then Wish You Were Here, Comfortably Numb and Another Brick in the Wall (Part II). The quid pro quo was simple – as a thanks to Waters, Gilmour would play his most famous solo on Comfortably Numb at one of Roger Waters’ solo The Wall shows at London’s O2 Arena the following May. On May 12, Gilmour kept his promise and later that same night Nick Mason joined them for show closer Outside The Wall, and the surviving Pink Floyd were united once again.

Although the constant question of a permanent reunion is forever there, Gilmour was unequivocal to Rolling Stone in 2014: “I was in my 30s when Roger left the group. I’m 68 now. It’s over half a lifetime away. We really don’t have that much in common any more.”

In October 2010, Gilmour collaborated with The Orb, and released Metallic Spheres. A most pleasant surprise, it located Gilmour at the edge of space rock again, with his aching solos over Alex Paterson and Youth’s soundscapes. The Metallic side had some of Gilmour’s best playing of recent years; removed from expectations, he delivered something sweet indeed.

If Live 8 had been the full stop to Pink Floyd’s sentence, The Endless River – compiled initially from jams and outtakes around The Division Bell, which arrived in November 2014, was the perfect postscript and dedicated to Rick Wright, whose playing throughout was superb. Again, it was Gilmour’s vision of Pink Floyd, compiled leisurely by trusted lieutenants.

It was time for Gilmour to pick up his solo career; his fourth solo album, Rattle That Lock, was released in September 2015. It was loosely based on the contrasting thoughts and feelings people have in the course of a single day: a beautifully mellow rumination on life, love and ageing.

The John Milton-inspired title track, built around the French railway company SNCF’s call sign, bounced more than Gilmour’s work had in years. Among the album’s highlights were A Boat Lies Waiting, an emotional tribute to Wright, with simple, fluid grand piano played by Roger Eno.

As expected, the tour to support Rattle That Lock was stunning, taking in the UK, North and South America, and two visits to Europe. For the final shows Gilmour was rejuvenated by a personnel change (with only Guy Pratt remaining from the previous outfit).

The band played live in the Pompeii amphitheatre where Floyd had filmed in 1971. The film released of the concert was spectacular: Stage lights swell and subside in accordance with the music, and all the players look to be having a wonderful time, especially on One Of These Days, the only song to appear in this and Floyd’s original film.

One of the reasons Gilmour may not be viewed as a solo artist is his lack of releases. In fact, in the past two decades, Gilmour has become known for his philanthropy through the DG Foundation as much as his output. His increased share in sales Pink Floyd experienced after Live 8 was donated to causes close to Gilmour, as were the proceeds of his London townhouse, which he sold for £3.6 million in 2002, going to Crisis.

“You can’t live seriously in more than one house. Everything else is just a holiday home,” he said at the time. With his latest act of altruism, the thought of Gilmour being parted from his famous guitars may be just too much for some fans to bear, suggesting that it is really all over. You never quite know what David Gilmour will do next. One thing is for sure: it will hardly be in haste.