Roger Waters Surprises Fans With Heartbreaking Tribute to Rick Davies at Secret Memorial Service
In a quiet London chapel, under the solemn glow of candlelight and the hush of a closely-guarded guest list, something unexpected happened—something that even the closest friends of Rick Davies hadn’t anticipated.
Just days after the world mourned the passing of the legendary Supertramp frontman, a private memorial service was organized by close family and longtime bandmates. Invitations were discreet. The press had no idea. Fans were left wondering how and where Rick would be remembered.
But then, as the room stood in reverent silence, the doors opened — and in walked Roger Waters.
The crowd gasped.
The co-founder of Pink Floyd, known for his fierce privacy and selective appearances, had not made any public comment since Rick’s death. But here he was, not for publicity, not for spectacle — but for friendship.
Clad in a simple black coat, Waters made his way slowly to the front of the room. As he approached the microphone, the emotion in the air shifted palpably. His voice was softer than fans were used to. His posture, a little more fragile. But his words — they hit like thunder.
“He was my longtime friend… We’ve known each other since the early days of our careers,” Waters began, eyes glistening with unspoken memories. “Rick was not only a great friend, but also a teacher in music. He taught me many lessons about how to live and create.”
The room hung on every word.
According to close sources, the two had first crossed paths during the early ’70s, when the world of progressive rock was still young and filled with possibilities. While fans often saw Pink Floyd and Supertramp as separate giants in the rock pantheon, behind the scenes, the two frontmen shared quiet conversations, studio visits, and mutual admiration.
Waters continued:
“He once told me, ‘Don’t chase the perfect note — chase the feeling.’ That stayed with me. It still does.”
He went on to share a story few had heard — about a rainy night in 1974, when both men found themselves in a tiny pub after separate recording sessions. They talked about stage fright, song structures, and their shared struggle to balance fame with authenticity.
“It wasn’t about who sold more records. It was about who stayed true,” Waters recalled. “And Rick… he stayed true.”
Those in attendance — including family, musicians, and a few lucky fans — later said the speech felt like a song in itself: raw, poetic, and deeply human.
As Waters stepped down from the podium, he paused before Rick’s portrait — a black-and-white image from their early years, both laughing on a backstage sofa. He placed a single sheet of handwritten lyrics beneath it. No one knows what they said.
The ceremony ended quietly. No press conference. No encore.
But those who were there left knowing they’d witnessed something rare: a rock legend laying down his armor, offering not a performance, but a piece of his soul.
And in that moment, Roger Waters didn’t speak as a rock icon.
He spoke as a friend.