Gilmour a smoker?? good w/ the ladies??

Many people are just casual smokers, having an occasional cigarette without being a hard-core addict. Dave seems to be one of these.

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Taking away from you for the greater good. (The Audacity of Socialism).

"Socialism is a philosophy of failure, the creed of ignorance, and the gospel of envy, its inherent virtue is the equal sharing of misery".-- Winston Churchill

"Islam isn't in America to be equal to any other faith, but to become dominant" - Omar Ahmad (founder, C.A.I.R.)

The photo I'm referring to does appear to feature express relief re the cancer stick dangling from his muso hand, mind

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When Bucks Fizz’s tour bus crashed they all survived. When Metallica's bus crashed Cliff Burton died. Why?

i saw this pict as a matter of fact. it was taken by JILL FURMANOVSKY. there was her exhibition in Slovenia this year. she also took picts of B. Marley, The Rolling Stones and loads more. even Alicia Keys (?).

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It is through Art and through Art only that we can realize our perfection.

Gilmour did indeed quit smoking during the WYWH sessions. The pic of him smoking was from June of 1972 at The Brighton Dome in Brighton. If Dave was smoking today, his voice would be shot to Hell and deteriorated. His voice has gotten better with age like a fine wine. Many singers who smoke lose their voice(Brian Johnson, Robert Plant, Axl Rose) with age. Roger Waters quit smoking as well in August of 1975(it was in the June, 2003 Uncut Magazine Interview he mentioned this) but he ruined his voice from the screaming on The Wall, The Final Cut and Pros and Cons. Coffee and sugar can also cause yellowing of teeth. Hence the weight gain Gilmour put on after 1975. In 1977, he got a little pudgy then he continued to gain weight over the years.

Actually, in some of the interviews of the 90's, I think his voice sounds rather grasping. Like he's been smoking for some years or drinking large amounts of alcohol. And come to think about it, I don't think TDB is one of his greatest vocal performances at all. But maybe it's just age... I dunno.

Don't get me started on that...

[color=Magenta][font=Tahoma]Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum, Uniondale, Long Island, New York
August 1988

----


A knock sounded on the door of the trailer.

"Fifteen minutes until showtime..." someone shouted.

Rising from the chair in which I had been sitting, I glanced at myself in the mirror one more time and made a face. The people over in makeup had overdone it a little again, but there wasn't much I could do about it now. And why was my dress so much shorter, all of a sudden? I pulled down on the bottom, attempting to make it longer. It didn't work.

Nearly fuming, I called an assistant over. "What the hell is up with my face?" I asked. "And this dress?"

She shrugged and replied, "Beats me. From what I heard, one of the band members requested it."

"Whatever," I said. The assistant walked off; I picked up a pair of long black gloves from the table in front of me and pulled them on. Then, after adjusting the silver pin that adorned one of the straps on my sleeveless black dress, I took a deep breath and prepared to leave the trailer. Time to face Long Island.

For some odd reason, basically everything was located underneath the stage. Outside the trailer, I was joined my fellow backing vocalists, Margret Taylor and Durga McBroom. Together we walked towards the stairs that would lead us onstage. Above us I could see a few roadies making final adjustments as the audience took their seats. As we stood waiting to take the stage, Margret elbowed me in the arm.

"Check it out," she said, pointing with her head closer towards the stairs. "I think Dave's looking at you again." Sure enough, Pink Floyd's leader stood a few feet away from me, joking about something with Nick Mason but keeping the corner of one eye in my general direction.

I smiled broadly. "Good," I said. I liked it when Dave looked at me; he'd been doing it pretty much for the duration of the tour, among other things.

"Nice job, Rachel; now you got him coming over here," Durga said sarcastically. Dave broke off from his group of people and made his way over to where I was standing.

"Hi, Dave," we almost said in unison.

"Hello, Margaret. Hi, Durga." Dave looked at me and smiled. "And hello there, Rachel. How are you tonight?"

"Fine, thanks." I couldn't help but grin.

"Ready for the show? They're saying this crowd is going to be crazy tonight, seeing that it'll be taped and all."

"Yeah. You know me.. I'm willing to take on anything." I smiled at him.

"Good." Dave smiled again, and I could have melted."Damn, he's good looking," I thought.

He looked like he was about to say something else, but quickly shut his mouth. "See you on stage, okay?" He walked off, and Margret turned to me, smirking.

"'I'm willing to take on anything'? If that's not a blatant rephrasing of 'I want you,Dave', then I don't know what is."

"Shut up," I said, grinning and staring at the floor. Above us, I could hear the crowd start to cheer; they must have turned one light on onstage or something. Dave was right; I had a feeling this show was going to be insane.

I looked back up and saw Dave start to climb the stairs, followed by everyone else. "Let's go," I said to my companions; we then followed the rest of the band onstage, and the show began.

I was glad that we didn't have to do much in the beginning of the first song. It gave me time to truly appreciate what I was doing. As Dave began the first guitar solo of "Shine On You Crazy Diamond", I shut my eyes and smiled. As always, Pink Floyd's music was bliss.

The show continued in the same fashion. Yet somehow I felt that there was something more to this concert. It was a feeling as if I should treat my performance like there would be no more. So I poured my heart and soul into every song, hoping maybe it would catch someone's attention.

Naturally, I was glad to see the intermission.

"Damn, girl, you're on fire tonight. What gives?" Margret joked as we rested in the comfort of our trailer.

I shrugged. "I don't know," I said. "It's this weird feeling like there's someone or something I need to impress."

"Dave," Margret fake coughed. She and Durga both busted up laughing.

"Maybe." I laughed along with them, hoping secretly that that was the case. Maybe if I did impress Dave enough, he would do something I'd been wanting him to do for the entire tour...

I decided that for the rest of the show, David Gilmour would be my center of attention. Screw the audience. But upon returning to the stage, I changed my mind somewhere in the midst of "One of These Days".

"Maybe Dave won't like it if I stare at him too much.. he'll catch on too quickly," I decided. "I need to be a little more deceiving." So once again, I fed my soul to the audience and the magic of Pink Floyd's music.


Somehow all my hard work started to pay off a few songs later. I had always liked performing "Money"; the extended guitar solo gave us a chance to hog the spotlight for a change. Also, every once in a while, Dave would throw a smile over in our general direction. Of course, I knew who he was really smiling at.

Tonight was a little different. Instead of just glancing over during the long middle section, Dave started to saunter towards us,snapping his fingers in time to the music.

"Christ, he's coming over here," my brain screamed. Somehow I still managed to continue dancing. Eventually Dave reached me, a wide, disarming smile spread across his face. My brain instantly turned to mush, and involuntarily, I did the only thing I could think of.

I blew him a kiss.

Dave smiled a little wider, and I saw something in his eyes that had not been there before. He then turned and started to walk back to where he had been standing. Thrilled, I smiled just as wide as he had, watching him go back to his mike. Damn, that man had a nice ass. After a few seconds, though, I managed to compose myself and go on as if nothing had happened. After all, I didn't want the audience to catch on, now did I? I shot them a glance to make sure that nobody in the front row had caught on. Good; they were still packed in there like sardines, eyes fixated on Gilmour, screaming their heads off as usual.

Strangely enough the rest of the set went by unadulterated. This caused me to return to a normal state of mind before the encores. "What else could happen?" I thought as we once again took the stage in front of an ecstatic crowd that was brandishing a sea of lighters.

The first chord of "Comfortably Numb" echoed through the arena, and the audience went insane. My mind instantly reached nirvana as I engulfed myself in the song, waiting for the part that I loved singing more than anything else on the planet.

Suddenly, it was time.

"There is no pain you are receding..." Dave's voice blended perfectly with the bright acoustic chords of the chorus, taking everyone to infinity and beyond as he sang the first few lines of the chorus.

Most of the lights on the stage had gone out by then, save spotlights illuminating only two presences; I was one of them. Halfway through the verse, I alone joined Dave in song, harmonious. As one. Together. Unlike previous occasions, I felt a divine connection between us as our voices wafted through the arena; together with the forces that earlier had persuaded me to perform like never before, I felt myself drift into the stars.

And as if I thought that wasn't enough, a minor incident occurred in the second chorus of "One Slip". Dave stepped backwards, then forwards again in the pause between two lines of the song. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him look at what seemed like the floor behind us, at least to the audience. At first, I thought he was just checking the level on the stack of monitors and amplifiers
behind me, but I quickly realized that that wasn't the case. I couldn't believe it. Dave was looking at my ass. I fought off a wave of happiness/desire and continued dancing.

About fifteen minutes later the show ended, fading into a massive backstage party as we congratulated ourselves on a job well done. After a few drinks I was brave enough to relay the events of the evening to Margret and Durga and see if I hadn't been hallucinating. We leaned on the bar, laughing about a moment relayed through several people during the past few minutes. Apparently,
sometime during "Run Like Hell", Dave had raised his eyebrows at me then looked around to make sure no one had caught it. As we were still laughing, I suddenly noticed him heading towards us from the opposite end of the room, casually brushing a chunk of dark blonde, shoulder-length hair out of his face as he walked.

"Oh, ****, here he comes again," I said. "What the hell's Dave up to now?" We laughed again (it must have been the alcohol as everything seemed amusing at that moment in time) and he approached the bar, a Heineken in one hand. It appeared like he'd already had one too many.

"Rachel..." he said, in a tone not unlike the one he'd used to introduce "Shine On" in a previous show in Cleveland: deep, throaty, and downright seductive. "Come here for a minute; I want to talk to you."

"Okay," I replied and flashed a smile at the others, who looked like they were going to bust up laughing again. "I told you so," Margret mouthed and gave me a thumbs up, smiling back.

Dave threw an arm around me and we retreated to a quieter corner of the room, where he set his beer down on a table and didn't waste a second before embracing me. As we had done on previous occasions, our lips met, but this time I sensed there was something more to it. He guided me down onto a sofa and I moved closer towards him, putting my feet up on an adjacent cushion so my legs were across his lap.

He pulled away and I laughed softly. "What are you doing?"

Dave grinned at me wickedly and placed a hand on the inside of my thigh. "I just thought you might like a little company for the night."

For the night? My mind froze; he was still using that same tone of voice. Was this really happening?

"I think there's a limo waiting outside that'll take us back to the hotel," he continued, running a finger through my short dark hair. "Besides, it's been loud all night, and I don't know how much more I can take of this party."

He kissed me again, a little softer, then leaned close to my ear and barely whispered, "What do you say, love? Shall we go make our own party?"

I could do nothing but smile again as we rose up from the sofa and headed out the back door.

Dave stayed true to his word; there was indeed a limo waiting outside upon exiting the building. He smiled at me as the driver came around to open the door, ushered me inside, then stayed outside talking to him for a moment before entering the limo himself.

The inside of the vehicle was fully loaded--TV, mini bar, you name it. For some reason I'd had the gut instinct to seat myself on the longer seat across the back; of course, Dave reached across me and grabbed a few more beers out of the mini bar before settling himself next to me. He threw an arm around me again after opening the bottles.

"You look a little tense," he teased, handing me a Heineken. "Here, calm down."

Normally I would have thought that laying off the alcohol would calm
me down, but not wanting to put a damper on the experience, I accepted the beer and smiled at him.

"So how far is it to the hotel again? We should have reached it by now," I asked, confused.

Dave laughed. "Oh, did I say we were going to the hotel? Oops, silly me. Before the show, I'd taken the liberty of renting a house on the beach... just in case that I'd have the good fortune of something like this happening." He leaned over and kissed me, then continued, "And besides, we wouldn't want anyone else finding out about this little excursion, now would we?"

I shook my head. "Of course not. It'll be our dirty little secret." I looked him straight in the eyes and finished off the rest of my beer, tossing the bottle aside.

"I like that." He, too, finished his drink and disposed of the bottle. Pulling me closer, he whispered throatily in my ear, "Dirty little secrets....you're my dirty little secret, Rachel." He reached a hand down and gently stroked the inside of my thigh, just high enough to make me squirm. "I knew there was something about you from the moment we started rehearsals....I'm so glad you've been on tour with me."

I was speechless as I managed to look into his eyes again. This was far more than I ever could have wished for.

With that, we started kissing again; but just as things started to get more heated, the limo pulled to a stop.

"Christ, we're there already? Oh well." Dave pulled away from me, grinning, then exited the vehicle and gestured for me to follow.

I got out of the limo and stood agape at what stood before me: one of the most amazing beach houses I'd ever seen in my life.

The limo driver pulled away; Dave pulled a key from his pocket and opened the front door. He led me upstairs through the bedroom and out onto a balcony overlooking the ocean.

"Isn't the view beautiful? I knew you'd like it," he said, gesturing out to the lights of a few ships that glimmered on the horizon.

I smiled and nodded. "It's amazing."

Dave came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist as I leaned on the railing. "You're amazing," he whispered in my ear.

We stayed like that for a minute: the moon reflecting off the water, Dave gently breathing in my ear, I beginning to explore the depths of infinite bliss. He softly kissed the side of my neck, then turned me around slowly and gazed into my eyes. I did the same, nearly drowning in the incredible sea of blue that I saw before me.

With that he kissed me, with more force than anything I'd ever experienced for the duration of the tour. His tongue found its way inside my mouth; we fed off each other's desire like starving animals. While pausing to breathe he began to tell me things that seemed like I'd been waiting to hear them my entire life.

"I was the one that made them change your dress," Dave muttered, laying a hand on my shoulder; he briefly caressed my right breast then made his way down to the bottom of said garment (we were both still wearing the same clothes we had on for the show, minus Dave`s jacket) and reached up a little inside the hem, groping my right leg. I had kind of figured that (well, my mind TOLD me to figure that), yet I said nothing, just smiled.

"But it was a bad idea," he continued, sitting me down on a bench--of course, it was a totally top-of-the-line padded bench, more comfortable than the sofa in my house--and pulling my legs across his lap once more. "****, it was so hard to keep my attention on the show... you looked so bloody attractive dancing around like that..." He put his hand back up my skirt, continuing to stroke me whilst inching higher. I wondered if he knew that I was aware of what he was doing. I also wondered if he knew I didn't care.

"I couldn't keep my eyes off you. Every chance I got, I was glancing over there. Christ, by the end of the show..." I ran my fingers through his hair and tried not to laugh, recalling the "Run Like Hell" incident.

"...I could barely contain myself." He let me fall back, my head resting on the arm of the bench; his hands trailed over my body. Standing up, he then kneeled at my side, letting a hand brush across my chest before reaching up and laying a hand on each of my shoulders, directly over the straps of my dress.

Dave leaned in close and looked me in the eyes again, making sure that I saw he was about to explode with lust. "But now," he continued, slowly beginning to pull the straps off my shoulders, "I have the freedom to fulfill my deepest fantasy." He was using that same deep, husky voice again.

Dave literally jammed his mouth against mine; I pushed back as hard as I could. Pulling me up, he led me into the bedroom and without any further hesitation disposed of any and all clothing I had on me. He then undressed himself, and in between heated kisses, we managed to finally end up lying on the bed together.

"Christ, I've been waiting for this moment forever."

Like I hadn't.

He reached down between my legs and slowly stroked me for a while. I arched up off the bed and groaned; Dave just smiled smugly, knowing full well that every single thing he did was bringing me closer to exploding.

After a few minutes, it became apparent that neither of us were capable of waiting a second longer to consummate our feelings. Dave grabbed my hand and placed it over his massive, throbbing erection. "I can't wait anymore, Rachel," he said. "****... I want you. Right now."

He eased himself on top of me and with a string of curses pushed himself inside me. I almost couldn't take the wave of sheer satisfaction that passed over me as we began to ****, slowly at first, then harder and faster as the desire grew.

"Dave... you're killing me," I moaned, struggling to take him deeper.

"Don't talk, love. Just feel."

We were nearing the point of completion; I could tell this by the fact that Dave suddenly just gave in to the experience completely, offering every aspect of his body to the funeral pyre.

"****...Rachel... I'm going to come, darling..." Dave stayed true to his word, hammering into me one final time like there was no tomorrow, letting out a deep groan as he did. Almost simultaneously, I did the same; shattering into nothing as the most unbelievable sensation, far better than any orgasm I'd ever felt, raced through my body.

I fought to catch my breath. "God, that was amazing," I said, lying back and wrapping my arms around him.

"You're damn right it was." Dave smiled at me, still disarmingly, and with one final, soft kiss, I fell asleep in his arms.[/font][/color]

ummmmm, what the hell was that all about?

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"I like to think that oysters transcend national barriers"
"Ashes and diamonds, foe and friend, we were all equal in the end"
"...So much behind us...still far to go...still far to go..."
April 5, 2006 was amazing

ummm.... it was about Gilmour being good with the ladies

Great story, except everybody knows he likes to be called David, not Dave.

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"David Gilmour can do more with one note than most guitarists can do with the whole fretboard."

Dave Mustaine (Megadeth)