So here we go again, we want ... well ... to be transported back to the days before kids and mortgages and middle-age spread. And surely none better to take us there than Fleetwood Mac; to those warm summers soundtracked by Stevie Nicks, singing to us from a million miles away.
And it is a promising start - 'Monday Morning','The Chain', 'Dreams' ... . But the setlist is odd, not so much the content - all the big numbers are present - but rather the running order. Stevie sings 'Rhiannon', so Lindsey sings 'Tusk' to a standing ovation. So Stevie follows with 'Sara', which Lindsey tops with a stunning solo take on 'Big Love'. It dawns on me, it's a competition and we are in charge of the clap-o-meter.
In Stevie's mind this is clearly her band. But everyone else in the room knows that the stage belongs to Lindsey Buckingham. His voice is stronger than ever and his guitar technique is jaw-droppingly brilliant. In her head, and truth be told in mine too, Stevie is that sylph like girl from '77 with the lace shawls and high-heel boots. On stage tonight her voice occasionally grates, she fiddles with the control to her earpiece, and she walks around flat-footed in what appear to be a pair of orthopedic shoes. Lindsey Buckingham on the other hand prowls the stage like a raptor, wringing stinging solos from his guitar.
There is much made of the main players' past relationships, and for the encore Stevie and Lindsey come back on stage holding hands. It's like a Broadway show or a daytime soap. It made me want to see a Lindsey Buckingham solo show, or Stevie with an orchestra, or order the vegetarian option ... give me something without the ham.
Don't get me wrong, it's a slick show, it has the songs, it has the musicianship, it just doesn't click. Maybe it's just me. 1977? I guess I'm never going back again. :-)
Note to the O2 Dublin: When I spend €100 on a ticket to see Fleetwood Mac I don't necessarily expect to have Stevie Nicks blow cocaine up my arse during the interval, but nor do I expect to have a restricted view seat. (We complained, they moved us)