And everything under the sun is in tune. But the sun is eclipsed by the moon.
Surrounded by darkness, an explosion of colors pierced the air as if the northern lights were suddenly and fully ablaze from above. A mild hallucinogen might have enhanced the experience. It was no ordinary Eclipse. That natural phenomenon typically isn’t accompanied by any sounds short of ambient traffic noise or, if you’re lucky, the early evening chirping crickets confused by a sudden onset of dusk. Or perhaps the ever present chattering of locusts.
No. It was no ordinary Eclipse. This Eclipse would be repeated nightly for several weeks or even months. And it would be accompanied by virtually the same sounds each time. The wailing of voices. A steady beat of drums accentuated by an occasional cymbal crash. A rhythmic shrieking of electric guitars. The heavy thumping of a bass guitar, along with a sometimes lilting, sometimes bellowing Hammond organ.
This Eclipse emanated from a stage upon which stood four men and one woman among towering stacks of electronic boxes powered by massive watts of amplification. The colored lights from above were among the first of the laser light shows whose wondrous spectacle would only improve over time. A man made Eclipse to be sure. In many respects, no less stunning than the natural phenomenon itself. In both instances, holding a rapt audience in awe. Just as an Eclipse is supposed to do. Just as Pink Floyd intended it.
There is no dark side of the moon really. Matter of fact it’s all dark.
Pink Floyd – “Eclipse” (Live at Wembley Stadium, 1974)