Another week, another enticing triple bill in Dublin. There really is too much going on this summer, with at least another four gigs I would have liked to have been at tonight, but this was billed as “Paul Simon: The Farewell Tour”. The man has finally decided to hang up his touring jacket so this last opportunity has to be taken. The crowd weren’t missing any of it either. The RDS had plenty of people in it as Bonnie Raitt took the stage good and early. Two songs in she’s covering INXS’ ‘Need You Tonight’ which might sound odd on paper but Raitt has already transformed the show grounds into the kind of southern roadhouse you dream of pitching up at. Her well worn voice and slide guitar are as authentic as they come, her playing fit to be mentioned in the same breath as Little Feat’s Lowell George, which is about as high as praise gets. She mentions George who played on her 1973 version, while introducing Mose Allison’s ‘Everybody’s Crying Mercy’.

A good run at The Fabulous Thunderbirds’ ‘I Believe I’m In Love With You’ shows off how innately rockin’ her great band are, then the acoustic guitar comes out for a solo stab at Skip James’ ‘Devil Got My Woman’ – Raitt reminding us that she had the honour of knowing James. Her credentials, just like her skills, are impeccable. 1991’s big hit ‘Something To Talk About’ is perfect for the warm atmosphere as is a gorgeous version of John Prine’s ‘Angel From Montgomery’ and she finishes up by bringing on Paul Brady to help out on his ‘Not The Only One’. Raitt recorded this, as well as Brady’s ‘Luck Of The Draw’, for the multi-million selling album of the same name, which must have kept the Strabane man in guitar strings for a while. Fair play to Raitt, it’s a perfectly judged set to get things going, although I would have loved to hear her version of John Hiatt’s ‘Thing Called Love’. I missed her in Vicar Street back in 2013, which galls me still, so hopefully she’ll be back here headlining her own show soon.

James Taylor’s name was the one on this bill that gave me pause as I’ve always been fairly immune to his easy-going charms, but I might be on my own here as he casually ambles on stage and doffs his cap to a massive roar. ‘Carolina In My Mind’ has a nice gospel feel, Taylor’s three backing singers giving it back to their beaming boss, sat on a stool centre-stage. ‘Country Road’ is just a great song, introduced here by a mini fiddle rag, and powered along, albeit gently, by the mighty Steve Gadd on drums. I can’t help it though, I will always prefer Merry Clayton’s absolutely dynamite version - when she advises you to “Sail on home to Jesus” you start booking your passage. ‘Don’t Let Me Be Lonely Tonight’ is almost impossibly mellow and ‘Up On The Roof’, the old Goffin/King number, rocks so sweetly it would hardly wake a sleeping child. The lads in the band get the sombreros out for ‘Mexico’ before Taylor introduces ‘Something In The Way She Moves’ with the story of being in the right place at the right time when a certain Paul and George were looking for people to sign to their new record label back in the late sixties. It’s a lovely song and his voice is in great nick.

By the time he gets to ‘Fire & Rain’ he’s done all he needs to do. ‘Your Smiling Face’ and ‘Shower The People’ has Mr White beside me grinning like a fool – "This is like the World Cup” he reckons, “a lot more fun than I thought it was going to be”, and that’s before 'How Sweet It Is' has everyone up out of their seats. Taylor feigns an exit before an obligatory 'You’ve Got A Friend' to close. It has the same effect on the crowd as a massive bifter – big smiles all round. He still wouldn’t really be for me, but it’s a job very well done.

The warm up acts, if you can class stars-in-their-own right like Taylor and Raitt as such, have done their work, the place is ready to go. The set up is odd though, the front half of the floor is seated and then there’s a barrier with the standing section pushed up against it craning for a view. This, for the most part, is a mature crowd, and they’ve been standing there since I got in at five o’clock – proper dedicated fans in other words, going through a bit of discomfort for the cause. There’s more than a few malevolent looks in the direction of where Hot Press is sitting – the “strawberries and cream section” according to Dave Fanning, Mr Man-Of-The-People shockingly calling HP out about it on air this very morning, ruining my street cred forever – prompting a feeling that if the revolution were to arrive at this very moment, I’d find myself up against the wall.

The band come on first, and there’s an awful lot of them, before a smiling Simon strolls on in aviator shades and shiny blazer. They start off with ‘America’ – a song so good that David Bowie chose it to open The Concert For America 9/11 benefit back in 2001. In lesser hands, there would have been some sort of blatant anti-Trump statement to send the lyric home, but Simon doesn’t do that, his songs don’t need any help. The familiar drum shuffle pattern introduces ’50 Ways To Leave Your Lover’ and the four-piece horn section take advantage of their first opportunity to open up. Simon gives it a bit of Bill Withers on a long held note as if to prove he’s still got the pipes, which he most assuredly does. He greets us all at the song’s end, telling how he was asked at Dublin Airport if this really is his last tour, as advertised. He’ll always come back to Dublin, he replied, although he did say the same thing in Scotland, which gets a good laugh. Simon does sound a bit like he’s on the outside of a few pints, and sure why not? He’s celebrating an incredible career and he’s having a party.

The accordion intro to ‘Boy In The Bubble’ lights a fire under every arse with its infectious bouncing rhythm, bass solo and all, then there’s a side-step for some beautifully intricate guitar work in ‘Dazzling Blue’ from 2011’s So Beautiful, So What. The accordion comes blazing back – there’s a sentence I never thought I’d write – for a hopping ‘That Was Your Mother’, moving from Johannesburg to New Orleans. There’s a bloke on the washboard, honking saxs, and Simon does a bit of dancing, happy as Larry, nodding to Clifton Chenier and Buckwheat Zydeco.

There’s then a long rambling monologue about learning guitar chords from his father, fifties music, trading his electric for an acoustic, moving to London, learning a bit of finger style picking from the masterful Martin Carthy – illustrating this with a teasing second or two of ‘Sound Of Silence’ – and on into the seventies. If there’s a bit of your-Uncle-making-a-speech-at-a-wedding about it, then it’s your favourite uncle, and he’s in good form. The narrator in ‘Rewrite’ who is “gonna change the ending” must be Simon himself, deciding to call it a day while he still can do so voluntarily. We change location again, this time to Jamaica for ‘Mother And Child Reunion’ and then down to Brazil for a samba to ‘Me And Julio Down By The Schoolyard’ complete with horns and a cuíca drum.

After all that dancing and jumping about, we need a breather. Simon provides it with a beautiful centre piece section, surrounded by a string section on one side and his horn players on the other. ‘Rene And Georgette Magritte With Their Dog After The War’, his “strangest song title”, and ‘I Can’t Run’ are beautiful, but ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water is something else again. Simon reimagines what is perhaps his most famous song – he recalls how when he wrote it he thought it was better than what he usually came up with – almost in the style of some of his more recent records. It starts with a low organ then there’s muted guitar and trumpet before, and you can feel the crowd willing it on, the familiar piano/drum/bass come in for the “sail on silver bird” section. It’s an astonishing performance from an artist still firing on all cylinders and still taking chances.

‘Wristband’ and the Brazilian drum blast of ‘The Obvious Child’ get us going again, only for ‘Questions For The Angels’, as lovely a song as it is, to throw us off very slightly. ‘The Cool, Cool River’ from the underrated The Rhythm Of The Saints is lifted when the brass breaks through and then Simon produces another magic trick by transforming the RDS into a downtown Soweto dance club for ‘Diamonds On The Soles Of Her Shoes’ which goes straight into ‘You Can Call Me Al’, the whole place freaking out. The bass solo is so good we get it twice. When Simon and band return for the encore, the crowd are still singing it.

‘Late In The Evening’ keeps the good time vibe going, ‘Still Crazy After All These Years’ allowing us a pause before ‘Graceland’ kicks off our shoes again to jump, jive and wail some more, Simon striking a pose straight from Bon Jovi at the end to acknowledge our wild approval. ‘Homeward Bound’ is played in front of a montage of career highlights before ‘Kodachrome’ and then ‘The Boxer’. “I am leaving, I am leaving” he has decided, not that anyone here wants to believe him. “These are strange times, don’t give up” he offers by way of an introduction to ‘American Tune’ and then he finishes with ‘The Sound Of Silence’. Its hard to think of a better choice to go out with, as thousands gaze on in hushed admiration.

The applause at the end hangs heavy with affection. If this really is the last time we see him, then the crowd is grateful for all he has given us, both tonight and through the decades past. Simon leaves the stage with a huge grin on his face, a master who has chosen his own way out. It’s the oldest trick in the showbiz book: always leave them wanting more.