"OK, are you ready for this?" a clearly tickled Roger Waters asked the red-eyed crowd after an intermission. "So are we."

About 18,000 minds began to wander--side to side, back in time--as the dozen players onstage re-created one of rock's most treasured albums during the first of three nights at the Hollywood Bowl. As The Dark Side of the Moon began to unfold, a circular screen played images foggily reminiscent of psychedelic overhead-projector shows. And the love-in had begun.

Few records can match the range of emotions Dark Side evokes in the individual listener. And this brilliantly performed and accentuated recital was somehow able to transfer the theater of the mind to the stage--while still allowing for personal interpretation. The segment was 45 minutes of neuron-firing bliss.

Most in the multigenerational crowd beamed along with Waters as each timeless track conjured a different memory and image. Waters' bass dominated "Money," with its oddball time signature; Dave Kilminster faithfully re-created David Gilmour's guitar work all night, drilling the trademark solos; and Carol Kenyon's precise retelling of the free-form soul vocal on "The Great Gig in the Sky" drew one of the night's loudest cheers.

The entire show's high point was a surging and receding "Us and Them." Stretched way out like no other song from the record, it was nothing less than a showstopper. But, of course, the show continued right on, with the crowd soon relishing the chance to yell back the opening "Brain Damage" lines about the lunatic--under a near-full moon.

All the while, hugely mounted visuals--including a dazzling re-creation of the LP cover in the sky high above the stage--kept eyes working while brains journeyed. And the retro-futuristic music, composed with gaping spaces to be filled in mentally, was enhanced by a spectacular sound system that allowed Dark Side's myriad sound effects and floating voices to sneak up behind and sidle up to each listener. A technical triumph.

Dark Side was the main course of this show, leaving an eight-song warmup of Floyd classics and overtly political Waters solo material as mainly hors d'oeuvres. A new number called "Leaving Beirut"--featuring a graphic novel-style presentation of the lyrics and narration--was heartfelt but obvious and ultimately unfortunate, and the odd imagery of the grin-worthy but dismissable "Perfect Sense" showed footage of a submarine torpedoing an oil rig while Marv Albert called the action. A four-song encore from The Wall was a rich dessert.

Waters, in excellent voice throughout the two-and-a-half-hour show, was smiling and jovial, even slapping hands down front. He has every reason to be proud of his Floyd work, especially writing most of Dark Side. And that pride showed on his face and onstage. Was he trying to upstage Gilmour's recent solo tour? If so, it's apples-to-oranges, as the latter mostly eschewed big visuals. But taken by itself, this trip to the Dark Side certainly was an enjoyable ride.