We drove across, in convoy – two cars, to a house we rented for a weekend. Another couple of friends drove from a different direction and met us there. We had the Friday night in the house – a great place, much merriment – and then on the Saturday we had a wander around the town, spotted all the other out-of-towners doing the same and got ready for the gig. It pissed down on and off. But hey. It was Fleetwood Mac! And I was there to review it, sure but I’d have gone anyway. Okay, I’d have loved to see them 20 years ago or whatever but this was still pretty wonderful – great set-list, about as good as it could be sans-Christine McVie. And it seemed like a bunch of other people finally caught up on what I’d been saying for years, Lindsey Buckingham is a goddamn muthafucking genius.

People seemed genuinely wowed and awed by his playing. I thought that was one of the reasons you listened to Fleetwood Mac. He’s amazing.

Being an open-air gig at the Bowl in New Plymouth it also attracted plenty of drinkers, there only for the five or six big radio hits they knew. Always a shame.

But it was great. Even in the rain. The Chain and Silver Springs and Big Love and Go Your Own Way and Storms and Gold Dust Woman and Oh Well and Sara and Gypsy and almost everything else. All of it pretty wonderful. Some of it so close to perfect. Transcendent.

Just to see them was enough.

That six-hour drive back the next day, ever so slightly hungover/jaded was a giant let-down. But then it was Christmas. And 2009 was ticked off. It ended well.
Stubs is an occasional feature here at Off The Tracks – looking back through the ticket-stub box and remembering how the show went down.