Fleetwood Mac in Phoenix

Awesome show, yes really, even though all I could see were little stick figures between heads.  That might be Lindsay Buckingham on the right, the little stick in white area between two heads.  The guy in front of me was about seven feet tall, and of course no one was sitting down, and I'm only 5'3".  Grumpy was kind enough to switch seats and even offered to help me balance standing on a chair, but I didn't have the nerve.  There were lovely video screens, but sometimes I like to glimpse the actual flesh of performers.  So, I leaned and craned sometimes, and watched the video screens other times.  Exhausting.  They were so energetic I got exhausted just watching them.  I thought L.B. was having a heart attack a couple of times.  Mick Fleetwood bugged his eyes and acted like a crazy man, especially when he turned loose at the end and went on drumming on and on and on and . . .  Stevie Nicks' gravelly soulful voice was as good as ever, and Buckingham's orgiastic lovemaking with the guitar was screamingly intense.  They played about two hours, including two very long encores.  My only complaint was charging $40 for a t-shirt.  No, I didn't buy one.