Ziggo Dome, Amsterdam

From the outside Ziggo Dome looks like a big box. From the inside Ziggo Dome looks like a big box.

After the show, sitting in the yard in the unseasonably warm evening as the trucks were loaded I mentioned the entirely un-dome like nature of the Ziggo Dome to one of the local crew who mused that word dome carries with it the notion of a place of worship in northern European languages and that maybe this was a place where people come together in a similar way.

I get a massive buzz when someone recognises me in the street and makes the effort to talk to me, to say how much they like our band's music or complement my guitar playing. But when I meet people who I only know through their work even if I know that work intimately, the conversational notion of "having someone at a disadvantage"—that you know who they are but they don't know who you are always makes me self-conscious. There is a long list of writers and players that I hold in the highest esteem, but I've never felt beholden, never idolised anyone (at least not since watching Kenny Dalglish play for Glasgow Celtic.)

Ziggo Dome was filled with 15 000 people who were not remotely self-conscious about their adoration of Simple Minds. The room was designed specifically for music and designed well. It sounds great—on stage Ziggo Dome feels like a rock club should.

There were more than a few in the house who also adore Del Amitri and our forty-five minutes in front of the standing crowd is the best show so far for us in Europe. Simple Minds took the floor and the dome rocked for another two hours.