Credit: Far Out / Alamy
November 2nd, 2026 · 10:30pm GMT
What could unite Pink Floyd’s interstellar bassist Roger Waters and outlaw country icon Kris Kristofferson?
On the face of it, they inhabit wholly different realms. Waters stands fundamentally as a creature of the counterculture, shaped by Swinging London’s lysergic explosion in art, psychedelia, and liberated mores demanding a garage rock score that likewise sought to demolish convention or periphery. Captained by original frontman Syd Barrett, Waters gradually assumed de facto leadership in Barrett’s departure, steering Pink Floyd toward blacker, darker, more infinite expanses of space rock through to the rock opera theatre of The Wall.
Kristofferson, however, kept his feet firmly on the ground. A blue-collar working man indebted to the rustic songbooks of Leon Payne and Hank Williams, Kristofferson cared little for the hippie era’s chemical fancies, far more rooted in crafting a western reportage of the hoi polloi in all its gritty, coarsened universality in a deliberate riposte to the polished and easy listening Nashville sound dominating the 1970s’ country charts.
Yet, both were songwriters. While walking different creative paths, Waters coursing around the dark side of the moon while Kristofferson took the provincial town’s dirt road, both were attempting to mine something poetic from the human condition from their own distinct vantage points. Be it synthesisers and jazzy soundscapes or intimate country folk confessionals, deep at the core of their respective songbooks lies the revered poetry of one of Canada’s most celebrated artists.
A glimpse into how important one songwriting titan stood in Waters’ estimation was revealed in 2011 when he appeared on BBC Radio 4’s long-running Desert Island Discs programme, when one of the eight records selected for his castaway entertainment prompted the former Pink Floyd bassist to compare the Canadian artist to a 20th-century titan of the song art form.
“Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan were the two men who allowed us to believe that there was an open door between poetry and song lyrics,” Waters stated. “This song of his, ‘Bird On The Wire’, is so simple, so moving, so brilliant. I love it.”
While first seeing life via Judy Collins’ version, the definitive ‘Bird on the Wire’ featured on Cohen’s 1969 Songs from a Room sophomore. Reportedly, the simple country-leaning piece was inspired by a bout of depression following the modern world inching itself closer to his creative retreat on the Greek island of Hydra, whereby a bird on a recently installed telephone wire spurred Cohen to pen a piece affirming inner contentment within external inevitability.
Further reading: From The Vault
So moving, ‘Bird on the Wire’ not only flew its way into Waters’ affections, but straight into Kristofferson’s sanctum of cherished songs. It’s little surprise the two take to Cohen’s gentle examination of existentialism, offering all the yearning for freedom and inner conflicts that would serve as potent thematic fodder for Waters and Kristofferson’s work.
It never happened, Kristofferson passing away in 2024 without a traditional tombstone, but Cohen wrote in the liner notes for 1975’s The Best of Leonard Cohen compilation how much ‘Bird on the Wire’ meant to Kristofferson in his life: “I can’t seem to get it perfect. Kris Kristofferson informed me that I had stolen part of the melody from another Nashville writer. He also said that he’s putting the first couple of lines on his tombstone, and I’ll be hurt if he doesn’t.”
