As a kid, I always wondered what it would have been like if the Wizard of Oz had been real, not some all-too-human humbug standing behind the curtain. In the story, it all worked out, of course — and I'm sure some valuable lesson was learned — but still ... an actual wizard orchestrating beneficent greatness? That would have been much better. 

Musically speaking, I witnessed the closest thing we'll probably have to a real Wizard of Oz Saturday night in the sold-out Fox Theater at Foxwoods. Alan Parsons, the all-world engineer/producer associated with sonic masterpieces like "Abbey Road," "Dark Side of the Moon," "The Raven That Refused to Sing" and dozens more, brought a stellar, intermeshing eight-piece band to Foxwoods Resort Casino. Touring as the Alan Parsons Live Project, they presented a two-hour, 20-song show spanning four-and-a-half decades of thoughtful and supremely listenable music because — oh, yeah — from the other side of the studio mixing board, Parsons has a multi-platinum career making records with an amorphous outfit called the Alan Parsons Project.

Onstage, Parsons, now 70, is a large man. He's tall and probably likes cake, if you know what I mean, and sports a flowing haircut that you might have seen on more than a few professional wrestlers. He also exudes thoughtfulness and kindness, with a polite and charming between-songs patter that's instantly endearing.

Standing in the center and tallest of three backline risers — with drummer Danny Thompson on his right and keyboardist Tom Brooks on his left — Parsons exerted his gentle and pleasant sorcerer's prescence in what was often a background role, strumming an acoustic guitar, providing background or occasional lead vocals, and basically looking like a proud father.

Up front were guitarists Jeff Kollman and Dan Tracey (Windsor Locks native!), bassist Guy Erez, and dual frontmen P.J. Olsson and Todd Cooper. These were the folks doing the bulk of the "performance" heavy-lifting, but the whole ensemble was as superb as you'd need to fill out the project's musical vision — which has included several albums Parsons wrote and recorded with his late friend and collaborator Eric Woolfson.

Those LPs include "Gaudi," "Tales of Mystery and Imagination," "The Turn of a Friendly Card," "Eye in the Sky," "I, Robot," "Ammonia Avenue" and the soon-to-be-released "The Secret." Hits from those recordings were passionately and affectionately rendered Saturday: "Damned if I Do," "The Raven," "Time," "Games People Play," "Eye in the Sky," "I Wouldn't Want to be Like You," "Psychobabble," and "Limelight." Several more teasers from "The Secret" were of top quality such as "Miracle," "One Note Symphony," "As Lights Fall" and, with guest vocals from Parsons' "future son-in-law" Jordan Huffman, "I Can't Get There From Here." 

Really, one of the best things about the concert was realizing how freakin' many amazing songs the APP has that drifted into the cobwebs of my memory. (Won't let THAT happen again.)

In terms of genre and a marketing niche, the project was and is largely regarded as a sort of prog-rock-lite outfit — similar to the Moody Blues or Ambrosia — due largely to the sophisticated performance and arrangements and a reliance on concept albums. In truth, what the APP excel at is hyper-intelligent, always listenable pop music — closer in retrospect to Yacht Rock for Ph.D.s or even the balladic side of contemporary musical theater than Rush or King Crimson.

Who cares? It's great, great stuff. Every member of Parsons' band contributed, each with apportioned "time to shine" vocal and instrumental moments that never seemed indulgent and always served the songs. Olsson's rendition of "Time" was simply beautiful, and overall he and Cooper brought just enough "I'm a frontman" panache and crowd-exhortation to rouse the audience from happy tranfixtion to the participatory. It may or may not have been necessary, but as this was a rock show and not a recital, it certainly added to the fun.

When Parsons did take center stage to offer lead vocals, on "As Lights Fall" and "Eye in the Sky," for example, his singing was technically the least accomplished of the evening. But there was a yearning, plaintive sincerity to his efforts, and it was fitting that the wizard step to the fore and remind us that he's been here all along. No curtain necessary.