Yup, and I was feeling pretty smug when I snagged myself four tickets on the first morning they went on sale. In fairness, you wouldn't necessarily have been trampled underfoot in the rush - though perhaps you'd have to watch out for the odd Zimmer frame or two given the ageing nature of McGuinn's core audience - but in the end, the man's reputation ensured a virtual sell out.
And he didn't disappoint. An improbably young looking 72 year old, McGuinn has kept his beautiful tremulous, near falsetto but he can still growl like an angry bluesman when he wants to. Guitar-wise he switched between his trademark seven string acoustic - which can mimic the full 12-string jingle jangle Byrds' sound - and an electric Rickenbacker as he bounced around a five decade recording career.
From Dylan covers (My Back Pages, Knocking On Heaven's Door) to self-penned classics (Chestnut Mare, Eight Miles High) to country, folk and even a smattering of sea shanties he's been on a widescreen musical adventure that he wants to share.
So yes, the songs were great, but what set the show apart was the quality of the story telling. This is a man who doesn't merely drop names - he sprays them around with a garden hose. And why shouldn't he? McGuinn has hung out with Dylan, McCartney, David Crosby and the Bee Gees; he's been an inspiration to Tom Petty; and it was a phone call from Miles Davies that secured The Byrds their first record deal.
Yet for all his cross referencing to the History of Pop, there was a touching modesty in the delivery. McGuinn talks you through the evolution of Mr Tambourine Man, frankly admitting that the band were desperate for a hit record, and tried to achieve it by sounding like The Beatles.
They were successful, and the rest is his story. It's one well worth catching if you ever get the chance.