Dawk Sawkasm In Thuh Claahsroom

Last night my pal Jerry treated me to Roger Waters' restaging of Pink Floyd's The Wall at Madison Square Garden, where 20,000 New Yorkers sang along to the title track in mock British accents. (Same thing when I saw Depeche Mode in Miami: The grawbing hanns, grawb all they conn.) The show was every bit the spectacle it's reputed to be: giant puppets, a massive collapsing wall, free-flying remote controlled inflatable pig, etc.

While I was never a Pink Floyd fan, much of the music felt vaguely familiar in that way that massive hit albums used to insinuate themselves into your subconscious whether you dug them or not. That probably doesn't happen anymore. My favorite moment was watching yuppies pump their fists from their $1000 seats to the anti-Big Brother message as they checked their nanny-cam live-streams from their smartphones. By the way, at 67 years old Roger Waters looked and sounded amazing.