...Here's another clue for you all...
Last night, I received a lifetime wish. Many of you who know me or read this blog in a more or less loyal fashion might think that wish would be visiting my homeland, Britain. Well, in fact, that will perhaps happen next year, whereupon my entire earthly happiness will be complete. ;-) For now, I'll stick to recounting the entire evening of seeing Paul McCartney's Up and Coming Tour Live at the Time Warner Arena - in full. There shall be no condensed version in this blog post. Thank you. 8)
First a little history:
The Preamble
Like many other people of my generation, I grew up listening to The Beatles because my parents had/did. When I try to conjure distinctive sounds from my childhood, I can remember the bell-like rattle of my Mother's keys, an indication that we were about to go somewhere; the theme song from Sesame Street, the low but menacing chug of my Father's lawn mower, which I compulsively ran away from. Yet what really sticks out in my mind is "Band on the Run" and "Jet". I couldn't understand what the words meant at four years old (I remember thinking "Jets" referred to the planes my Dad worked on at the airport and I now associate that song with images of stealth bombers and G-forces), but I could tell from the smile on my parents' faces when they hummed along to the many McCartney/Beatles records in our collection, that it was something I should eventually understand. As if it were a part of me that I simply had to learn to grow into.
Years went on, and as I memorized almost every single note, harmony and chord of The Beatles' songs (with the exception of The White Album and "Lucy In the Sky with Diamonds", which for some reason my Mom taught me to regard as something like the LP version of "Mein Kampf"), singing the music was the same as breathing. Not to mention the many biographies and TV specials I read and watched (remember 1995's Anthology?) to keep my trivia-quotient in order. Mind you, classical music made up the bulk of my listening and that's really what I "specialize" in, but there was no escaping the music of the 60's for me - mostly because that's all I was ever allowed to hear, secular-wise. But I didn't care. I didn't want to hear anything else.
Also, I just always saw McCartney as one of our own. This has to do with my gene pool. Other than Scandinavian, my maternal line comes entirely from English stock, the most recent immigrant being my Grandfather's maternal Grandmother, who hailed from a little town just South of York. But she married into an already-established American family with Anglo blood that went back to 1190 and that had been in the U.S. since the early 1700's (most of whom had come from the North Eastern part of England or of Anglo-Irish descent). This is another story for another time. Point is, the Beatles are a part of my identity in more ways than one.
Fast forward to the last few years. I went into ecstasy last fall when the Beatles Rockband game debuted and the remastered albums appeared. I'm aware of the marketing behind it all, but do I care? NO! :-P
So as you might imagine, last night was a magical one, a long awaited event which I had supposed would never happen. Circumstance, blessings, but mostly Providence all contributed and I am wonderfully grateful. The only *real* downer of the evening was that my husband and sweeteh kitteh, David, wasn't able to join us for the concert. At the time we bought tickets, there was only so much American currency to go around, which came to three not four tickets, but this really made little difference to him, in his words, "I like Paul McCartney, but not that much!" ;-) So that was ok. But it would have been really special to share the experience with him, as many Beatles songs are "our" songs, for the both of us.
The Long and Winding Waiting Line
Since this was also a way to celebrate my Mom's birthday a few days early, we started off with dinner at Ri-Ra's and had a lovely time there. This was particularly important for her, as she had seen The Beatles in San Diego during their U.S. tour in 1965. She and her sister ran after them, picking up the grass they stepped on and keeping the grass and their ticket stubs for years, before tossing it all 20 years later. :-0 When I asked her what the best memory of that concert was, she said she remembered Lennon mentioning the "KGB" title of the local radio station covering the event and quipped, "So what does that mean? 'King Beatles'?" I love you, John.
Then, after saying goodbye to Dave, we walked down a few blocks towards the Arena. We expected large crowds and this was a sold-out concert obviously, but although the doors were supposed to open at 6:00pm to let everyone in, they were a little late to open when we got there at 6:15. We stood in line for another 20 minutes or so, which wrapped all the way around the building, slowly inching forward now and again. In 91 degree humid weather, I began to feel perspiration drip down my legs under the black heavy cotton petticoat of my vintage dress (intentional) and into my vinyl heels. Bleah. I was the only gal in heels. Did I care? No! :-P I stood there thinking, "I wonder where Paul is?" At one point, the crowd of people at the other door on the lower level of the building cheered boisterously and everyone turned, thinking Paul had come through the door. But no...they had just opened the doors for everyone to go in. :-)
We eventually get to the entrance as the doors finally open on our end and the blissful air conditioning settled us all down. We made our way up the escalator, bought a couple of waters and a box of Mike and Ike candy (their idea, not mine) and moved towards the door for section 222...way up in the Himalayas, as it turned out. Oh boy.
Now, I'm not usually afraid of heights all that much, but this took the cake. Our seats were up in row Q, which was practically like sitting on a slab that jutted out horizontally from a vertical wall. In other words, very little incline. My parents looked up, looked at each other and looked at me. I protested that there was no way I was climbing (literally) up there, holding a plastic cup already slick with condensation and no top to it, in slippery heels. With my Mom's arthritis and my Dad's back, we were in a jiffy. After a little deliberation, we quietly slipped into the many rows of empty seats (which we later learned was the overflow section) which were on level ground, right near the entrance to that section. Thankfully, no one booted us out and other people who were thinking like us eventually joined in.
By now it's around 7:00pm. The crowd is beginning to slowly trickle in with their beers, pretzels and yellow, grease stained boxes of Bojangles (really?). Everyone is mostly quiet. We chatted to the people sitting around us and made jokes about Paul's alimony. "I guess we're paying for it with these seats!" was a common jibe we heard. Ha. Once and a while, someone drank too much Michelob Lite and spilled a little on my bare back as they stumbled down the stairs behind us, which I didn't like. Is there really nothing more to do than to get drunk at these things? It's something I'll never understand.
It was fun to look down and see the stage from where we were, because despite the fact that we were in a high section, it overlooked the stage perfectly and as you'll be able to tell from the pictures (and video!) I'll provide soon, we were close enough that opera glasses weren't always needed, although we did use them from time to time - or at least whenever Paul turned towards the drummer, which was rare. Mom said since we could see backstage that we could say we had actually been backstage. Ha. Mom and I made up songs to pass the time: "When I find myself in times of trouble/I'm backstage with Paul McCartney/and all I can say is/Sign this pleeease!" ;-) We're strange.
So May I Introduce To You...
It's now 8:00pm and we had been told the show would begin between 8:00 and 8:15. I was getting antsy in a neutral way (yes, this is a legitimate emotion). Beginning around 7:50, they began playing a techno-mix of most of his songs. Now it's 8:15. Most of the overhead lights go off and the giant screens begin rolling a scrapbook-like montage of newsreels, newspaper clippings and paraphernalia spanning 1964-71. Everyone cheers, briefly. I sit there, patiently. Now it's 8:19. I get my phone/binoculars ready and sit forward in my seat. The looped background music blares the phrase "...and in the end....", which was the oddest signal to begin anything that I've ever heard. It's 8:20. Lights go completely out. The stage, of course, is colored with various blues and purples. EVERYONE IS SCREAMING - which only grows louder and louder and I stretch my neck to see the opposite end of the stage. I can't see what everyone's screaming about.... AND HERE HE IS!!! OH MY GOOOOOOSH THERE HE IS! /SCREEEAMMM!!!!!!!!
At 8:20, the evening began. There he was, exactly as I pictured him to look, walking slowly, waving tiredly. In fact, he looked and acted rather pre-fatigued or as if he were trying to save most of his energy for the end of show. He barely moved, waved for a few moments, smiled in that restrained, English way. I screamed "Paul!" as well as "John!", but nixed "Ringo!", just to say I had, kicked off my heels and settled in. 8) Dressed in a pinstripe jacket, he launched into...a song...uh...that I didn't know??? Hm.
I later was told that this was Venus/Rock and Roll Show. After about 1.30, the lights went white and the opening chords of JET blared and once again I screamed with joy and fulfillment. :-)
To be honest, the show felt very familiar, because he uses the same shtick and script that he used in the Good Evening New York City concert (Live from Citi Field, formerly Shea Stadium) from last summer. I've seen this and I own the music, but it wasn't a disappointing feeling of familiarity or "I've already heard this". It just felt like home. Every song was pitch-perfect. Suddenly, he's singing, "Close your eyes/and I'll kiss you/tomorrowwwww I'll miss you..." which topped my night, even before it got started.
He played the usuals, serenading us all with "And I Love Her", "Blackbird", "Here Today", "Paperback Writer", "The Long and Winding Road", "Eleanor Rigby", which was a once-in-a-lifetime treat for me, as it's a favorite; "I've Just Seen a Face", "My Love" and some other Wings-era songs. "Let it Be" was another moment which made me truly cry, as I had been waiting for it. "A Day in the Life" was coupled with "Give Peace a Chance", which gave me excellent incentive to weep and wave my peace signs in the air - we all did. "Dance Tonight" made everyone get up, as did "Ob La Di, Ob La Da".
Everyone sang along, everyone danced. But I often looked over to the most expensive seats, the first four rows or so, to see if I could see anyone I knew by sight or just how they were reacting. I was a bit puzzled. Here, these people are only a few feet away from McCartney, experiencing something that may never happen again in their lifetimes. And I saw at least one woman, who stood there, silently, not moving or even singing. Just watching. What the hell? What, too uppity to dance, are we? Perhaps it wasn't a big deal, because they had all seen him before, but if I had been in their seats, trust me, Paul would have noticed I was standing there. My jumping and yelling would show. 8) Perhaps I was expecting the kind of boisterous, energetic crowd you would find in Northeast. Maybe the South is different. Oh well.
As always, he chatted and told stories throughout the night, including lifting up one of his many guitars and letting everyone know it was the original he had played on the late albums. Our jaws audibly dropped. I stared at it, ingraining the sound and image into my mind. I also couldn't help noticing the teleprompter at his feet, scrolling the lyrics, with the title of the song he was singing in bright red letters. Oh dear.
I know that our seats were far off to the side of the stage, but our view was not obscured and I wondered why he never acknowledged/waved at our side. I kept thinking, "What? Our side not good enough for you, too cheap, eh, Sir Paul?" Phooey.
Then there was "Live and Let Die"...
This number isn't one on my hit parade, but I wasn't expecting huge flames of pyrotechnic fire to go blasting in front of the stage. Whoohoo! It was fun. I got video, folks! From there, after a round of Hey Jude, which was played on a psychedelic "Magical Mystery Tour" piano, he took a bow with the band, went off stage and came back to play "Yesterday". At this point, my phone camera died and I wasn't able to record this. I hope someone else did and if you're out there in the Charlotte area, let me know and send it to me? 8)
Hearing Paul McCartney sing Yesterday was, for me, analogous to hearing Billy Graham give a sermon in person or watching a live Monty Python sketch with Cleese and Palin. Sure, you've heard it a dozen times on the radio, on television. You've seen others mimic it, sometimes quite well. But when you experience it live and authentically, there is little that can compare.
Then he went off stage again. Only this time, he came back with his drummer waving the Union Jack and the North Carolina state flag, which tickled us all. "Get Back", "Drive My Car" and "Day Tripper" topped off the set with more psych-lights. Then he went off...again. This time, when he came back, he said, "You know, there is a point when we have to go home." This was the launch for the Sgt. Pepper reprise and the mega-ending of "The End". Every note as it should be, everything simply perfect. A blast of streamers burst out at the audience, he said his final thank yous and goodbyes, acknowledging his crew and others for a few moments. I saw his staff throw items for him to sign from the front row, which he did, and.."Emily!"
I turn around. "What?"
My parents are walking away. "It's the end, they played the last song, we have to go!" Traffic fears.
My emphatic, loud "I'm not leaving until he's gone," sent the message and my mom rolled her eyes and they sat back down. I stood firm until I saw the man walk from the stage, shake someone's hand and not until the screen went dark and the lights went up did I say, smiling, "Now we can go! Thank you!" :-) I didn't spend $57 a ticket to not see the very end. It just doesn't work that way. He's sixty-eight. He's not coming back. Everyone in that arena knew it and that's why we were all there in the first place. And so I gathered up my things, took one long last look back and sauntered on.
The time? 11:30pm. Yes, three hours of nonstop music, with no breaks. That's called your money's worth. ;-)
And In The End...
Well, I didn't buy a souvenir, as the lines were a wee bit too long and by now my feet were killing me after dancing on concrete for three hours, so much so that the muscles in my left foot began contracting and I started panicking. I was told this was because I hadn't been drinking enough water. Very well, but when I'm excited, my mind is on the subject at hand, not trivial things like water, air and food. :-) But I had such an inner satisfaction, as did my parents I think, that nothing else mattered. We listened to Rubber Soul on the way home and knew we had all come full circle.
As I write this, my throat is still a little sore. I don't care. For a few hours, I was my Mom in spirit, fourteen year old Nancy Jo, barefoot and running after four guys from England at Balboa Park in San Diego back on August 28th, 1965. And this was July 28th, 2010. I was married on June 28th. I was born on the 29th. I see a pattern. ;-)
It was worth it. It was so worth it.
For those of you who are on
Facebook, I'll be uploading my pictures and hopefully video there soon. If you're not on
FB, but nonetheless interested, you'll find the main shots
here.
For those interested in seeing the official photos from The Charlotte Observer, please be so good as to click
here.
I'll be off to upstate New York tomorrow, but will continue to communicate via electrons on this and other topics. Cheers, fellow Brit-Wits! :-x
....and it never could be any other way...
and it never could be any other way
and it never could be any other way...
lauP saw surlaW ehT
