British invasion of Cincinnati.

Even almost a whole day after Sir Paul McCartney took his last bow at Great American Ball Park, I'm still high from the singing, dancing and adrenaline of seeing a show with more than 40,000 of my neighbors.

First, GABP deserves an great deal of credit for pulling of the largest show the venue has ever hosted. With relatively reasonable lines at the concessions and bathrooms (I say reasonable because I doubt they're any longer at a ball game), and no wait to get in or out of the stadium, on top of stellar sound, video and lighting -- the night was a great success, and I hope it means they'll be bringing more big-name bands to Cincinnati in the future.

But back to the real star of the night.

McCartney is a performer in the truest sense of the word. It's difficult to imagine him looking any more natural than he does when he's strumming his guitar in front of thousands of people -- until he pulls a few fans on stage for quick introductions and hugs all around. Not only were his song choices, which alternated from Beatles to Wings every song or two, spot on, his between-song banter was more intimate than you'd expect from someone who's been doing this for well over 50 years. It was easy to get the sense that McCartney enjoyed milking each moment and each story, since Cincinnati was the last stop on his eight-city -- and possibly final -- tour.

Well, that's what people are calling the On the Run tour anyway -- his last. But watching him crank out song after song for three straight hours, it's clear he's still got "it," and I could imagine him doing 2,000 more shows before he tires out. And if he were to plan it, people would come, because it's obvious by last night's crowd -- which ranged in age from small children to the geriatric crowd -- the the Beatles' music still endures, and that we all have fond memories involving at least one of their albums.

While "Hey Jude" and "Get Back" were high points for me, so were his recollections of Jimi Hendrix playing Sgt. Pepper's at his own concert just days after it was released (then playing Jimi's "Foxy" and selections from Sgt. Pepper's on the guitar he played while recording that album in the 60s); playing the ukulele with George; lamenting not telling John how much he loved him; and writing "Blackbird."

It's cliche, but McCartney is a living legend. A giant left from a time of melodic rock'n'roll that could get anyone to get up and dance. There aren't many of his peers left -- all of his stories were about friends who have passed -- which made seeing him even more incredible.

I wracked my brain last night, trying to remember every concert I've been to and whether I've been to one more profound than McCartney's, and I don't think I have. The best shows are the ones where the performer is as into the concert as the crowd is, when artists play the songs the way we remember then, and when they come back for encore after encore. McCartney did all that, and I doubt what I saw last night will be surpassed any time soon.