The year was 1977, and my buddy and I were in his 1968 VW Microbus nicknamed "Old Blue" driving down Black Mountain in Kentucky, after leaving a gig in Cumberland. He was the drummer in our pretty successful regional rock band, and "Old Blue" was used to haul his drum kit. It took just about the entire Microbus for his drum kit, because he had a Slingerland set that was identical to Neil Peart's drum kit on Rush's "2112 Tour" -- including Wind Chimes, Wood Blocks, and a freaking Gong. What...didn't every High School drummer have a Gong in the 1970's? 😂 His dad was an Electrical Engineer and as a side business he owned a popular musical instrument store in town that also sold Hi-Fi gear. So we had access to some pretty fancy gear for our ages. We rigged up a set of JBL monitors in the middle of "Old Blue" (all the seats except for the front two Captain Chairs were removed to make hauling space), strapping them in where the middle seat normally bolted to the frame. Had it wired so we could play a Jensen car AM/FM Cassette Deck through the JBL using a hefty A/D/S amp.
So there we were, the end of January, at 2:00 a.m. in a blinding snowstorm, creeping down the mountain, following the tail lights of the other band members. We weren't playing any music, because my buddy was freaking out trying to concentrate on driving down the mountain and had wanted it quiet. He finally said, "Man, put some music on so I can calm down!", and I told him I had just bought Pink Floyd's new release that morning and before we left my step-brother had burned me cassette copy while we were loading the gear. Needless to say, hearing "Animals" for the first time in that situation and in those conditions, was one of the few life-altering moments I've had in my life. We actually felt like we were tripping during "Dogs" -- the head lights reflecting off the snow in front of the VW appeared to be flickering in tempo with the voice echoing "Stone, stone, stone, stone...". After it finished, we both just sat in silence for what seemed to be half an hour. Finally my buddy just said, "Play that again."
I've listened to "Animals" hundreds of times, own the original pressing, a Japanese pressing, the Remaster, the Remix, several bootleg live recordings -- but nothing compares to what I felt hearing it for the first time in that blinding snowstorm, not knowing what was real or imaginary. To me, that is the magic of certain music.