Firstly, the Tacoma dome is a big venue, but this is a big production - the edges of the wall are already built and it dominates the place. This thing is big, perhaps 120ft wide - it annexes a number of seating tiers, and there's not really a stage to speak of.

A unnnoticed roadie wanders through the crowd carrying a box, which is unceremoniously dumped centre-stage - it's life size mannequin Pink, who just lies there for most of the performance. A black leather jacket with Red armband stands on a tailor's dummy, and is donned by a very sprightly man in alarmingly skinny jeans - and the crowd go mad as they recognise Waters. Lights, flares and a fairly large model Stuka which explodes in a ball of flame are fired off in the first 5 minutes, but after this, there are no pyrotechnics and in what is a huge deviation for the norm, there are no lasers at any point. Instead, very much the star, is the wall itself. Doubling as a screen of astonishing clarity, animations, screeds and some eye popping digital effects dominate, and as the wall continues to grow, brick by brick during part one, the canvas for the visuals increases. The Teacher, the Wife and the Mother are realised in sinister mannequin form - no longer inflatables, they are giant puppets and although grotesque caricatures, they move in a surprisingly realistic manner.

Musically, it's as you would expect. Waters is, astonishingly, in fine, fine voice, good enough to suggest that his original vocals are blended in with the live feed, though there are some noticeable differences. As befits a Floyd gig in all but name, the sound is excellent, despite the cavernous venue. Sound effects issue from all areas and the music is loud without being painful. Gilmour is a presence filled by an accurate vocal facsimile and three guitarists, and to be fair, each solo is nailed, Comfortably Numb even has elements of the late 80's version, that Gilmour was performing on the Momentary Lapse tour, and is no worse for it. If you don't like the music then so be it, but "Mother", "Another Brick", "Hey You", "Young Lust", "Comfortably Numb" and "Nobody Home" still hold up really well, though it's quaint to hear that, once, there were only "...13 channels of shit on the TV to choose from"

Pacing is an interesting one - clearly the concert is faithful to the album, so the musical peaks are seemingly at random - "Another Brick" is the third song in, and crowd pleasing finale "Comfortably Numb" just after the start of the second half. This actually works very well if you are familiar with the album, if you are coming to this as a neophyte, then "Outside the Wall" might seem an odd number to bow out on.

First big surprise of the night. Roger's feeling quite chatty, and he has a special guest to introduce. In a rather astonishing Mea Culpa, he apologises for the crowd baiting "angry, scared, completely fucked up young man" he once was and sings "Mother" as a duet with the 36 year old Roger, using footage shot at Earl's Court in 1980. The contrast between the animated 60 something on the stage (there are no big screens with the musicians on them but this man's body language is that of someone having the time of their life), and the dour, wrought younger Waters, now a 30ft head on the wall, is marked and poignant.

The audience, good natured and boisterous, sing along, most only slightly puzzled by the inclusion of the extended version of "What Shall we do now" complete with classic Scarfe animations of a wall tearing up the countryside the screaming face quite terrifying in its speed and size. Needless to say, the footage has been digitally tweaked and is pin sharp. A succession of images of people appear, followed by how and when they fell as a direct result of armed conflict. I notice Menendez, the Brazillian gunned down in the aftermath of 7/11 is included. Monochrome B52s drop garish red crosses, then logos onto the cratered landscape of a destroyed city. Palette-wise, the colours are red, black and white, and there is little deviation. There is some humour, at the line "Mother, should I trust the government", the wall, and it is an entity in its own right at this point, flashes up "No Fucking Way!"

The Wall is complete by the end of part one, the last brick extinguishing a single ray of light, but in a rather splendid piece of sleight of hand, the wall is darkened enough to seemingly disappear, and the solid bricks animated to fall, dance and implode in what is a breathtaking illusion which has me and most of the audience grinning with delight.

"Hey You" is played straight, only with the band invisible behind the wall, the spotlights stab for them in vain, and the wall is devoid of any projection, stark and white. As a piece of theatre, it's actually rather audacious. Comfortably Numb has the tiny figure of Waters, bounding around its base, dwarfed against it. The Gilmour parts and solos are sung atop the wall - it must be a hell of a view from up there. The solo has rare primary colours splashing and peeling from the wall and after the muted tones that have preceeded it, it's rather uplifting.

Run Like Hell has our old friend the pig, now enlivened with tusks and painted slogans and seemingly a remote controlled dirigible as it bobs and weaves of the audience, catching them in the baleful glare of its red eyes. The wall is transformed into unquestionably Teutonic architecture and digital banners of that oh so Nazi-like icon are unfurled. The band are in costume too as the spotlight picks out all the riff raff in the room, a queer, a coon, one with spots, etc. Giant worms invade the columns and it's time for the Trial, which is done as Roger singing against the original footage from the film (only this time, the wife is very definitely French). By now the audience, to a middle-aged man with a smattering of teens, hipsters and kids, is chanting "Tear down the wall" and down it comes in a wave of mayhem. From the ruins, "Outside the wall" is performed in rag-tag fashion, with Waters, rather bizarrely, playing the melody on a cornet. Another rather revealing speech at the end is made, along the lines of - "it took me years to realise it but it's all about you, the audience. This is what I do, and I love it" and you realise that the man who spat in the face of the fan back in 1977 has finally found peace with himself.

OK - it's 3:25AM and I can't face proofing this until the morning, so apologies for grammar, coherence and spalling.

9AM edit -corrected egregious spulling of "croud" for "crowd"

except the spalling!!

with a few tweaks.

Given the rave reviews it's receiving, it's interesting to revisit the inkies reports from the 1980 run. MM apart, I seem to recall that it was comprehensively slated by them.

… that Waters can actually sing any more. The live 8 gig which saw the rest of the band smirking while Waters tried achingly to keep up. Comparatively as musicians, whereas Gilmour even at his age is great in every respect, it was clear that Waters had completely lost his mojo as a live performer in that one. Can't sing in tune any more for one thing.

but may I just say that's a great read. Cheers!

I've got a ticket for one of the O2 shows next year. If he performs The Wall in Arabic with two spoons and a tambourine under a 40 watt light bulb, I'll still watch it. Thanks for the review. Reassuring.