Peter Gabriel's SO was part of the soundtrack from my first summer living in Manhattan.
When I heard him sing the familiar lyrics at the Hollywood Bowl
his voice cut through thirty years like a hot knife slicing an ice cream cake.
I was transported to a train on a muggy summer afternoon returning to the city
after a weekend in Avalon.
Drowsy from too much sun and too little sleep,
the outside world was shut out by his vocals pumping through the headset of my Walkman.
I wore my post college independence like a coveted designer power suit.
The world was waiting for me to explore it.
The world was waiting for me to explore it.
Gabriel shared the stage with Sting whose music spans decades from my past,
thus the memories he stirred were less specific, but piercing all the same.
It was a phenomenal show enhanced by excellent seats, and a glowing moonrise.
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