ROGER WATERS Pink Floyd did not start to suck when "Crazy Diamond" Syd Barret left the building. Nor did the psychedelic-hued maestros lose their mojo when they hit commercial pay dirt with Dark Side of the Moon. No, Floyd dropped the ball when they hit The Wall - Roger Waters' mighty, misogynistic and narcissistic paean to stunted emotional growth. Now, Waters takes this edifice to crawling up your own ass on tour, complete with 12-piece ensemble and state-of-the-art special effects. You can't blame the guy. His subsequent Floyd album, not to mention solo career, yielded barely one memorable melody ("Radio Waves on Radio K.A.O.S.") and his ego stroking opera Ça Ira was a creative stiff. So what recognizable songs can he play for the punters? The problem is that The Wall's double LP contains only an EP's worth of killer songs. And those tent poles aren't enough to support Waters' bloated, overproduced monstrosity. To be fair, Waters has disavowed some of The Wall's more self-serving and repulsive lyrics, but under scrutiny this rock monument crumbles like Ozymandias. Look on it and despair. $77-$201. 8 p.m. Time Warner Cable Arena.