So I’m back / to the 3 arena / back to the band that I love…
Ok, so I may be biased… no hang on, I AM biased because I believe Fleetwood Mac are the greatest living, breathing and touring band in existence. They’re a band who have never mired in talent, their songs are astronomically timeless with all present members accounted for and individually influential. It’s an absolute privilege to watch them perform together with a never-waning enthusiasm for songs you’d expect them to be tired of by now. Consider this: the band are all pushing 70. Stevie announced this was their 93rd show. NINETY THREE… and they’re not even through the year yet with Australia to take in shortly. Just picture your Nana doing this.
So we’re treated to a brief sojourn here before they return to Dublin for yet another two nights in July. On with the Show hails the triumphant return of Christine McVie, who wholeheartedly thanked the crowd at Dublin and credited us for her return to the group. The show had a very similar format to their previous tour, but Christine was undoubtedly the missing link in ‘The Chain’ which remained incomplete since she departed in the late 90s. Launching headfirst into absent classics such as ‘You Make Loving Fun’ ‘Little Lies’ and of course, the jewel of the evening ‘Everywhere’ which skipped along with such timeless precision you’d forget they should be drawing a pension. Close your eyes and they’re ageless harmonic entities.
Sadly, I was subjected to three middle aged drunken men and their cacophony of ‘shite talk’ in the stalls behind me. Men, so red in face and bursting through their work shirts, it genuinely looked like they were about to have a pulmonary embolism if they forced another pint down their throats. Which leads me wonder why people even bother spending money to see a band when they’re far more interested in talking about themselves and how it’s great to be away from the missus for a night. When a sentence such as ‘The Dance is by far their best album, all the hits are on it!’ is bellowed behind you so loudly that saliva mixed with Carlsberg lands on your hair, it’s time to re-evaluate being in social situations with other humans who supposedly enjoy music. Only Stevie can save me now, which she does so by launching into ‘Gypsy’ and hypnotising me with her twirling after conjuring up some images of her as a young woman in ‘the velvet underground’ clothes shop in 60’s San Francisco trying on fringed shawls.
Highlights included Christine McVie busting out the accordion during ‘Tusk’ which absolutely blew the roof off, Buckingham/Nicks alone on the stage and holding hands like teenagers and smiling forlornly at each other making the crowd swoon in their thirty-year ‘will we, won’t we’ teasing and Mick Fleetwood’s many manic faces during his ‘World Turning’ drum solo.
At this stage now there is probably no real need to discuss the gig at great length as it’s clear this is a group of hugely experienced, tremendous musicians whose altar deserves to be worshipped at. After a succession of various encores, we’re fervently reminded that the circle is complete with McVie’s return and with a doffing of his tophat, Mick declares the Mac are most definitely back. Loreana Rushe
