Of course, this doesn't happen with just any band, or just any ex-drummer. With countless Nirvana T-shirts still in evidence, it's worth remembering that Grohl's former band never played a Scottish venue of this scale, and to these people the man is a hero, pure and simple, a decent guy who's witnessed evil first-hand and had the strength to rise above and sing his own songs.

Great songs at that. Regardless of which surgically-enhanced blonde star-faker it may or may not be about, 'Stacked Actors' is a pulverising initial gambit, a knee to the groin of anyone who's condescendingly dismissed this fellow as a sap just because he says "please" and "thank you". 'My Poor Brain' out-rocks all newcomers, with wit to boot. In the face of 'Monkey Wrench' Limp Bizkit get soggier by the second. A punter called Jimmy is brought on, rescued after he'd been mugged for his ticket outside - a very Foo thing to do. By the time Grohl does get his lips round that plastic tube for the sinful 'Generator', most observers are as moist as Taylor Hawkins' dangerously frank pants.

It's fun and it's moving and it's true, and a whole load of other emotions life does its best to grind out of us on a daily basis. Which is really why Dave Grohl and his band strike such a chord, especially with Glasgow folk. They recognise that "Civility costs nothing," as Brendan Behan wrote, and in a wicked world the Foo Fighters seem an increasingly priceless commodity.