Silence.

Dual spotlights pick out the immobile figures of Carlos Santana and John McLaughlin standing with heads bowed in silent meditation onstage while a noticeable tension grows in the air.

Bzzzzz. Hmmmmm. Zap! A faulty amp cuts through the stillness and a roadie hurries to correct the problem, to restore the balance. The noise stops, but the crowd remains restless, torn between respect for the requested 60 seconds of silence and a tempting desire to take the dare and scream or whistle. Anything. Just to pierce the everpresent reverent atmosphere.