The kind of surreal, pinch-yourself night that fans of the band never thought would come. It seems faintly ridiculous that The Libertines, one of the most influential and talked-about acts of the century, never played a headline show in Ireland before this evening but also totally in keeping with the Libertines way.
The longer they stayed separated, the more you questioned whether that big legacy and mythology was really based on anything tangible, other than a smattering of ramshackle but literate and anthemic indie rock classics and some fondly half-remembered 'moments'.
And yet, against all odds, the interest and fanbase only multiplied in their absence.
Talking to Hot Press just before show time, the quartet seemed disarmingly and charmingly nervous. Utterly up for it, but also as surprised as anyone how their legacy has grown in their years away. Pete Doherty, in particular, seemed flabbergasted that these summer shows would see so many new faces in the crowd. In 2015, they are bigger than ever before.
In the event, they more than step up to that challenge and, by the end, those new faces are plastered with ear-to-ear grins.
Converting previously on-the-fence audience members left, right and centre – "I did not expect them to be that good" was a comment heard more than once or twice in the aftermath – and sending the hardcore into raptures, it is true that they wouldn't have won over people previously rubbed the wrong way by their often shambolic approach.
There are messy moments aplenty, for sure, but those almost feel like they are playing up to their image – when they chuck their mic stands and guitars at the death it seems more out of duty than spontaneity. Attempting to aid a marriage proposal (who are they, Kodaline?) and bringing a sleepy Shane MacGowan on stage are missteps, although Shane's appearance is thankfully at odds with a healthy looking, animated Doherty who seems to be on the straight and narrow. For the most part, they are working as hard as you could ever hope and sounding pretty slick and on point for The Libertines (it's all relative, of course).
It helps that they are genuinely enjoying it as much as the crowd. Gary Powell is a powerful presence on the skins, John Hassall is as understated, steady and sharply-dressed as ever stage left, while Doherty and Carl Barat are clearly hopelessly back in love with each other, constantly sharing the mic and kissing and embracing in between songs. The ultimate bromance.
A perfectly-chosen setlist sees them deliver raucous fan favourites like 'The Delaney' and 'Vertigo' early doors, while a couple of new tunes in the form of 'Gunga Din' and 'Barbarians' slot effortlessly into place. There is very little let-up in general.
When they ease off, they slip into some of their finest numbers. 'Music When The Lights Go Out' inspires a mass singalong and 'You're My Waterloo', a very old number that takes pride of place on the forthcoming Anthems For Doomed Youth, finds Pete in fantastic voice and is a real showcase for his romantic, wide-eyed lyricism.
The evergreen likes of 'Times For Heroes', 'Can't Stand Me Now' and 'Don't Look Back Into The Sun', shot through with real intent and fervour, are proof enough that the accumulated years of adoration and awe are warranted.
Turning up late (again, of course), there is inevitable, possibly disingenuous, talk of them being in danger of breaking curfew as things reach a climax.
When they return to the stage, they launch headlong into 'Up The Bracket', 'What Became Of The Likely Lads', 'What A Waster' and 'I Get Along', as fine an encore as you'll see anywhere this year.
A very Libs-esque triumph.