Even in the aftermath of the various lawsuits and threats of lawsuits concerning, among other things, floating pigs, band names, members as non-members, and more, the distant memory of Roger Waters as a member of Pink Floyd seemed no less strange to the band’s fans, and presumably to the remaining band members themselves. Released in 1994, the band’s fourteenth studio album The Division Bell now renders a sobering look at the whole of Pink Floyd’s existence as a band that, even in their obvious twilight, were still fully capable of creating powerfully compelling music. The eleven songs here are less an exercise for Gilmour in flexing his creative muscle outside the scope of Waters’ creative vision and more a collaborative creative effort with Pink Floyd as the sole focus.

Sidestepping the band’s previous direction of avoiding any overarching themes with A Momentary Lapse Of Reason, The Division Bell found its primary writers, Gilmour and Wright, exploring the concept of communication and its inevitable tendency toward entropy or, more fittingly for Pink Floyd, disillusionment. Though overly long, the album has aged considerably well in the twenty years since its creation and much more so than its predecessor where distraction and creative misdirection had allowed the music to falter. Though initially and unfairly scrutinized, the inclusion of Gilmour’s then-wife Polly Samson as a co-lyricist has since proven itself a wise move on the part of the vocalist/guitarist in offering a multifaceted perspective in place of a tired and by that time largely irrelevant formula.

The Division Bell offers an interesting perspective on those most powerful components of Pink Floyd’s music and why the thematic focus and narrative thread of their music played such a vital role in their creative output. With Waters gone, the album is understandably devoid of the trademark wit and dark sarcasm of the bassist/vocalist, but the welcomed absence of legal and personal distraction for Gilmour had an undeniable positive impact on creating a sound for The Division Bell that was unmistakably Pink Floyd. Though now not technically the band’s swansong, it’s difficult to see the album as anything less than a final display of rock and roll greatness for a band who’d made their struggle with that very identity the core of their creativity for so long.

Especially with regards to the first four tracks, The Division Bell takes on Pink Floyd’s most notable characteristics as atmospherics meet melody in the same synchronized fluidity that allowed albums such as Meddle and Wish You Were Here to wield their own singularly powerful sound. The instrumental “Marooned” stands out primarily as a song that sounds as much like Pink Floyd as anything on their mid-’70s releases. The song roots itself to Gilmour’s familiar lonesome melodic guitar descants threading themselves through the trademark mood setting and foundation of Mason’s drum work and the invaluable Wright’s keyboard deviations.

Initially dismissed by a number of critics, The Division Bell is the representation of the best Pink Floyd could possibly be in the absence of now two of its original and primary creative forces. The album is not without its missteps such as the lyrically heavy-handed “A Great Day For Freedom” and its not so vague references to the band being liberated from Waters (despite Gilmour’s vehement denial to the contrary). As the last song to feature Wright on vocals and the only Pink Floyd song past The Dark Side Of The Moon not to feature either Waters or Gilmour as songwriter, the new age gloss of “Wearing The Inside Out” too often detracts from a melody line that might otherwise fit perfectly in the band’s early albums.

“Take It Back” finds Gilmour in rare upbeat form with an arpeggio closely resembling the likes of U2’s The Edge and lending itself much in the same way to creating a layered framework for the song’s primary melodic line. The song is not especially memorable as a Pink Floyd work necessarily but certainly indicative of Gilmour’s near limitless abilities as a pop rock guitarist fully capable of adapting into a variance of styles depending on what specific sound most viably served to complement the song’s structure. “Coming Back To Life” is another example of this as Gilmour’s penchant for well-timed crescendo into lead out solo take full and successful form, though slightly detracted by overly-slick production.

With its judicious use of sound technology and Wright’s synth brilliance, “Keep Talking” closely resembles the simmering pulse of The Wall with the airy chorus of voices contrasting against the brooding churn of the music driving their melody. The song is another example of the album’s success in mirroring the same compositional sentiments that had proven time and again to be Pink Floyd’s most reliable creative ally. In terms of evocative post-scripts for those bands in the sunset of a career as defined by the members’ public personal struggles as it was by the groundbreaking music they created, “High Hopes” is an aptly emotional end piece to The Division Bell.

As much an auditory manifestation of Gilmour’s own personal life, “High Hopes” is also a somber look back both musically and lyrically at Pink Floyd’s existence and the open-ended question of what paths its members took as opposed to the ones that took them regardless of individual choice. Though Waters’ absence is readily apparent on The Division Bell from a creative standpoint, it also serves as a kind of sobering reminder of the fragile and often bleak introspection that defined Pink Floyd without regard to the various attempts by its individual members to avoid facing the cold reality of that dilemma. Twenty years later, The Division Bell looks strikingly different than it did upon its initial release as time has allowed these songs to offer their full if slowly realized rewards much in the same way that defined the band who created them.