Thursday, July 29, 2010

And a few more!

http://blogs.creativeloafing.com/vibes/2010/07/29/live-review-paul-mccartney/

Here's a nice sum of the evening from Creative Loafing. I forgot to mention Helter Skelter (oh how I love that one, but this version just got too loud for me), Lady Madonna and Back in the USSR.

I Saw The Walrus


...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

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Hey Ho! The Symphony has a blog! :-x Check it out.
http://ping.fm/Qx1tp

We Anglophiles are quite happy about Warren-Green, don'tcha know! :-D

Friday, July 23, 2010

Some new news and my rant on Mel Gibson

My sinuses are probably behind my tirade which will commence shortly, but first let's go with the pleasant news!

I will be penning a nice little "blogette" (vignette?) about the upcoming Paul Macca concert here in NC next Wednesday, which I look forward to! However, I'll be traveling to upstate New York the day after and will be there probably until the end of the first week of August, as my husband and I continue to settle the affairs of my late mother-in-law, Ellen. There will be plenty of picture scanning (as in digitally), paper work, and visiting with my family. /waaahhh, you might say...what about our McCartney review? But do not fret, my countrymen! Emily has a new laptop for her upcoming Grad school adventures which she will take with her up to New York! She'll write it up there, see? ;-) Ha.

Now on to Mel Gibson. I'm going to make all of this short, sweet and to the point, because I need to get all of this out of my head. It's making me nervous. Or maybe it's the pollen...

I made the mistake of actually listening to those tapes on YouTube several days ago. The next night, I dreamt that I was married to Gibson (ewww), I was holding a baby in my arms and I was running away from him, frightened, as people helped me hide from him. I felt very vulnerable and hurt, so I guess his words left an impression.Now, whenever I see his face, I get kinda edgy. Do I have an over-active imagination? Yes, I always have, but that isn't the point here.

Like many other people of faith, I was swindled by Gibson into thinking he was a lovely Catholic guy, standing up for his beliefs. Then there was all the riff-raff over the film, which perked my ears up. Then his comments. Then his violence. Then his drinking. All of that put together pretty much did it for me, on the first note. I enjoyed his directing and his films, obviously "Braveheart", "Forever Young", and the historically inaccurate yet endearingly lovable because it was literally shot in my back yard - "The Patriot". So, for a while, Mel-tdown Gibson seemed a-ok to all of us. He represented a tiny part of Hollywood that cared about something, even if only, in reality, a superficial way, but at least he didn't think twice about saying it out loud. That lasted all of about 2 seconds. Oh well. (Watch "The Gospel of John" instead. Less violence, more scripture. Or King of Kings - who cares if he has blue eyes or that Mary is Irish! ;) It's the best!).

What I'm getting at is how eroded this guy's soul is now. Listen to him, to his voice. He did all of this to himself: adultery, battery, everything. It's an unsurprising, yet terrible shame. I had the option of listening to the commentary on my Special Edition Braveheart DVD. Now the thought of hearing his voice makes me want to vomit. Mel Gibson, you scare me. Go away! 8(

Ahhh...now I'm feeling much better. 8) So don't worry, after this, I will now go back to commenting on the things I promised a few months ago: British culture and the like.

Love to All My Countrymen,
Em

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Prepare to weep...

Apropos to my post a few days ago. I didn't think YouTube would be this quick about it, but still... :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3RuU9nBmAVs

Enjoy, kids!
Graceful, indeed. I hope he finds peace at last, in some way or other...take a look.

http://ping.fm/Y2wwT

Friday, July 16, 2010

The Pre-Weekend update




Hi all,








A bit of an emotional evening for me. First, I hear one of my old friends and colleagues from the office has put in his two weeks notice and is moving to San Francisco 8( Though there is a lot to be said on this topic, I don't blame him. I'm glad he's moving on to greener pastures and the like. It's just that he and a small handful of our work mates always got together every two weeks or so for lunch and coffee - or the "Espresso Summit", as we liked to call it. ;) This seemed to only increase after I left the office, simply because we all got on so well and they really enjoyed my company, going so far as to pay my way every time when my budget was strained. /sniff.... While I'm sure I'll still see them now and again, our team is rapidly diminishing as folks move Westward. First my best work gal Riva moves to Texas, now this. ;(
Then, I saw the latest Doctor Who episode which involves the Doctor and Amy going back in time to see Van Gogh and fight giant bird monsters. Ok.

The emotional wallop for me came at the end when they bring Vincent to the Musée d'Orsay in 2010 to show him just how much of an impact he had on art (and a bespeckled, bow-tied Bill Nighy as an art critic telling Vincent exactly why). I cried my green eyes out. I was raised on Van Gogh along with air and water, so my appreciation and understanding of his life and work has always been strong. I attribute this to my mother's artistic training and her own trials in life perhaps, and how she handed this down to me. But I first laid eyes on a Van Gogh for the first time at the Boston Museum of Art two years ago and that was a memorable moment for me. Just imagining him standing there, seeing his work in Paris and finally receiving the affirmation he deserved touched a deep nerve with me. Good writing and set design, too. It worked. And in the words of another doctor we all know and love, "I love it when a plan comes together!" ;-x

If you're looking for another insight into Vincent, this time a little more deep and with my other earthly Idol, Simon Schama, watch his "The Power of Art" episode on Van Gogh, with Andy ("my preciouuussss") Serkis basically being what he is as an actor - brilliant and real. Click here and you'll see why. Wait till the end.

I'm off for a starry night of vivid dreaming...Cheers.


Thursday, July 15, 2010

http://ping.fm/FryMC

From Julian Lennon's page. Please read this and heed/spread the word...
http://ping.fm/E1vEF

Yes, folks. 8) Lovely!

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Flying Taliban Monkeys

While I think this concept has the possibility of being cute and cuddly, one of my Facebook friends thinks otherwise and I quote: "America has been waging war for nearly a decade and our enemy is getting their battle plans from the Wizard of Oz. Maybe they can teach them to fly?"

http://www.theatlanticwire.com/features/view/feature/Taliban-Training-Monkey-Soldiers-for-Jihad-1580

The People's Daily? Hmm.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Another McEwan novel comes alive

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-1293267/BAZ-BAMIGBOYE-Lifes-Chesil-Beach-Carey.html

If they could film Atonement and now Chesil Beach (/hyper happiness), they can do something of Sebald's. Particularly this. And I'd like Hoffman (as in Dustin) or Von Sydow to play Jacques, although it always ends up being Hopkins. Why? I'm biased, as my college thesis revolved around this novel, but as I earned the top score of that year for my dissection, I'm sure there are others who can easily explain that it's not just a confusing story with too many flashbacks, obscure references and very little indentation.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

http://ping.fm/vekfu

I'M WITH COCO - and it paid off. :-P

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Is it or isn't it, folks? Your thoughts are encouraged...

http://ping.fm/cqUwK

Monday, July 5, 2010

http://ping.fm/eILjf

Brilliant! Take a look, I'm planning on using it.