When a band dares to venture into uncharted musical territory, the reaction is rarely immediate praise. Often, the earliest responses to experimental sounds are confusion and resistance. For Pink Floyd, who became synonymous with concept albums and sonic innovation, it wasn’t just critics or fans who struggled to grasp their direction—it was their own future guitarist, David Gilmour.
Before he joined the group, Gilmour shared a bill with the early incarnation of Pink Floyd at a London gig. But instead of being inspired or intrigued by their sound, he walked away unimpressed.
“I felt pretty superior, I have to say,” Gilmour admitted. At the time, he believed his own band was leagues ahead in performance. “Syd was obviously very talented, and Rick was a good musician, but Nick and Roger were fairly pedestrian at that time.”
Gilmour acknowledged that Floyd were attempting something original but felt they lacked execution. “They were possibly, they were definitely a bit more original than what we were doing,” he said, “but we were much slicker.”
It’s a common reaction—audiences often gravitate toward tight, polished performances over rougher acts pushing boundaries. In those early days, Floyd’s ambition may have outpaced their ability to fully bring their vision to life.
Gilmour’s band, by contrast, was easier on the ears. “We could do all sorts of Beatles and Beach Boys things in wonderful harmonies and stuff,” he recalled. “We were a pretty good local covers band, and I think it would be fair to say they were trying to do something slightly different.”
Of course, everything changed once Gilmour officially joined Pink Floyd. His mastery of tone and ability to translate abstract musical ideas into reality brought structure to the band’s expansive ambitions. In many ways, he became the missing piece.
The irony isn’t lost: the band Gilmour once deemed less capable was simply ahead of its time—and waiting for the guitarist who would help crystallize their vision.
