David Gilmour is often hailed as one of the greatest guitarists of all time, a musician whose sound has shaped the very identity of Pink Floyd and influenced countless players across generations. His soaring solos and expressive touch turned songs like Comfortably Numb and Shine On You Crazy Diamond into timeless anthems, cementing his reputation as a legend in rock history.
Yet, when it comes to the artists who inspired him, Gilmour’s admiration points in an unexpected direction—toward someone not usually celebrated for guitar mastery.
When Gilmour stepped into Pink Floyd in 1967, the band was at a crossroads. Syd Barrett, the group’s visionary founder, was slipping further into instability, and Gilmour carried the heavy burden of keeping the band alive while honoring its roots. Under his influence, Pink Floyd transformed from a psychedelic experiment into one of the most ambitious progressive rock bands the world had ever seen, delivering monumental works like The Dark Side of the Moon and Wish You Were Here.
Over the years, Gilmour has openly credited icons such as Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton, and Jeff Beck as guiding lights in his musical journey. But in a more surprising revelation, he has also praised Leonard Cohen—not for his poetic lyrics, but for his guitar playing.
“One thing I did learn is how bloody good he is as a guitar player,” Gilmour once remarked. He went on to note that while many think of singer-songwriters as strumming simple chords behind their words, Cohen possessed an intricate fingerpicking style that few could match.
Gilmour’s respect for Cohen offers a refreshing reminder of the subtle brilliance often overshadowed by Cohen’s reputation as a songwriter. Especially in his early folk years, Cohen’s delicate fingerstyle created the perfect backdrop for his storytelling, weaving intimacy and depth into his music without ever overpowering the words.
For Gilmour—whose own playing is often grand, emotional, and unmistakably commanding—the admiration for Cohen’s understated technique reveals a deeper truth. Great musicianship isn’t always about power or volume; sometimes, it lies in restraint, nuance, and the ability to let the song speak for itself.
In recognizing Cohen’s quiet genius, Gilmour shines a light on a side of music that often goes unnoticed: the artistry of subtlety.