The LP commences with the comforting texture of “5 A.M.,” Gilmour carving out suave guitar moans amid subtle strings. It’s the same song that he’s written 50 times before, but it somehow never gets old—mostly because of his tastefulness, his ability to wring out angst from every bent note and trill. Still, any Gilmour-fronted album is only as good as its choruses. The bluesy title track, a call for social justice, finds the frontman in ragged voice, as if he’s spent his extended downtime smoking a carton of cigarettes a day. But some roughness injects a spark in the manicured groove, which samples a hazy synth hook from a railroad jingle. These two tracks represent Gilmour at his two obvious extremes: the ambient wizard and the moody rock craftsman. But the most revealing moments here diverge from that formula—like the brooding, piano-led sea shanty of “Faces Of Stone” and the smoky, cool-jazz sax of “The Girl in the Yellow Dress.” The album’s centerpiece, “A Boat Lies Waiting,” is a tribute to the late Wright, disarming in its demo-like ambiance. “What I love most’s an ocean,” he harmonizes with David Crosby and Graham Nash. “It rocks you to the core.” Gilmour says the album title is a rallying cry for optimism in a grim world. As always, his music offers an escape—consider the lock rattled.