I've published this here before, but forgive me for placing it here again, in memoriam....

Pink Floyd came to Tampa in the early 70s, during the UMMAGUMMA tour, and played at a small hall, the Armory, that held only about 5K fans. An intimate venue suitable for the band..

Even in those days, the Floyd put on a spectacular show, by the
standards of the time. I was impressed by the competence and
creativity of the production crew; pyrotechnics, lights, music and
sound effects were coordinated by a small army of longhairs roaming
around with clipboards and stopwatches and walky-talkies, cueing
lights and so forth. It was choreographed like a commando operation,
and the musicians did not drop a note or miss a beat. It was
impressive.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, the show started with "Careful With
That Axe, Eugene", and you will recall that it begins very slowly and
quietly, and only gradually builds up to the crescendo, punctuated by
that hideous scream. The stage was in total darkness, but I could see
from the monitor and amp lights and by the combined glow of 5000
glowing joints. As the music progressed, I could just make out a huge
metal scaffolding studded with Kleig lights gradually rising behind
the band, and a mirrored spinning disco ball was slowly being lowered
from the ceiling on a cable.

The Tampa audience was completely unfamiliar with the band, but I had
a friend who had gone to school at Columbia and was hip to the latest
music and he had turned me on to the album; so I was prepared for
what was coming. One freak sitting on the floor in front of me
obviously wasn't. He was sitting cross-legged in lotus position,
middle fingers to thumbs, head bowed in profound meditation.
When the music reached the resolving note, that heart-stopping
electronic scream blasted out, a dozen spots illuminated the ball,
spraying the audience with multicolored phaser fire, the lights
on the scaffolding erupted into a blaze of chromatic beams, and
rotating police lights scattered about the hall started flashing,
again, in a variety of colors. Four pillars of fire and sparks
erupted from the stage and sprayed like volcanoes to the ceiling. It
was timed and coordinated to the microsecond. Simultaneously, the
scream was unleashed on the audience by tall speakers, previously
unused, placed like Stonehenge dolmens in a big circle around the
hall.

Yoga Dude looked like he was hit by a cosmic hammer. His body, still
rigidly in the seated position, fell backwards onto the floor, but
his legs were still crossed, locked together, and his arms were still
outstretched at his side, fingers still in small O's. He was lying on
his back on the floor, rigid, still in the exact body position he had
held while seated. The only term that came to mind was "blown away".
The scream continued over and over and over. It was wonderful.

The boys put on a terrific show, and for an encore after a night of
sophisticated acid rock, they came out and played the Blues, straight
Delta Blues for about ten minutes straight. They did the material
with respect and sensitivity and consummate musicianship.

Tampa's program of rural electrification had gotten off to a great
start.