Somewhere back in the decades of listening there are songs that stopped your conversation, set down your glass, interrupted a conversation... because the all you could do was stop and listen.
I was in San Francisco in an upscale knick knack store when John Barry's "Out of Africa" came over the speakers. I stood transfixed to the spot. The swelling of that beautiful theme just got me. I was in my early thirties and my wife and I had taken a get away trip (first time to leave a toddler with grand dad).
Almost two decades later, we were in a bookstore in Northampton, Mass taking our then adultling daughter on a college tour. We were visiting Smith College, and most of their textbooks were sold downtown. On a pair of Klipsch Cornwalls an eerie voice sang a haunting version of a song I knew well, and I stood frozen. I'd never heard of Eva Cassidy, and her version of "Woodstock" just reached into me and took my breath.
I ran across a pristine copy of "Out of Africa" today, and although I have the cd and the movie, I couldn't resist taking the vinyl home. When the house is quiet tonight, I'll put it on and go back in time thirtyseven years.
All this to ask, when were you gobsmacked by music, where, and by what??
