I went to the O2 in London last night to see Sir Paul McCartney perform. Not all that surprising in itself, after all, he is Paul McCartney, and I am Paul Staveley, and as you already know, I am a gigantic fan of his first band, and actually a big fan of his work in general (Frog Chorus and several other songs notwithstanding). I’ve never seen him before in the flesh, despite my familiarity with most of the recorded output he has produced in the last 50 years, so it was quite a big night for me.
Well, so I thought. As it turned out, it wasn’t a big night, it was massive. And here’s what I liked about it.
First of all, serious hats need to be taken off in honour of whoever thought of converting the Millennium Dome into a concert arena. What once appeared destined to go down as one of the most expensive laughing stock s in Britain’s history is surely due very soon for a re-evaluation. When they close the history books on that piece of land by North Greenwich station, there is every chance that it will be remembered as an iconic music venue. It really is impressive. Yes, I couldn’t find a cash point anywhere and my burger was distinctly crap, but as a concert venue, it will surely outstrip, outrank and outclass Wembley (which is easily the most expensive laughing stock currently in London, if not the world) as a live music theatre. Unlike most other things in London, the facilities for transport are fairly impressive, although there’s nothing wrong with the tube station that a couple more escalators wouldn’t have fixed. All in all, very impressive, and a suitable stage for the evening’s events to unfold upon.
It’s hard to know how to feel about sitting in the O2, waiting for the biggest hero you’ve ever had through both childhood, adolescence and adulthood, to walk on stage and sing. On one hand, the anticipation was thick in the air, but on the other, I was almost blasé. Being such a fan, I’ve watched countless (and I literally can’t count them) McCartney concerts on TV & DVD – would I think this was any different? I could see the various guitars ready for use, among them the very same Hofner Violin Bass that Sir Paul bought back in Hamburg in 1961, and it all seemed just like another video. After all, how is my mind supposed to process that I’m looking at the bass guitar that saw the Beatles’ reluctant new bassist through hours of rock and roll in Hamburg and the Cavern, recorded the first four Beatles albums, and has been used in nearly every gig since 1989. Paul McCartney’s bass guitar. I looked at it and almost felt nothing. I’ve seen it a million times before, and I imagine I’ll see it a million times in the future, it was almost as though I wasn’t really there, in the same room as it. (Yes, I know that the “room” in question is three storeys high and holds about 25,000 people, but you know what I mean)
And then, on he came. As the evening moved along, in fact I never really collapsed into a sense of realisation that Beatles songs were being played to me by a Beatle, less than 200 yards away from my very nose. But after hearing a straight shot run of Paperback Writer, Let It Be, Live and Let Die, Hey Jude and Day Tripper, it did dawn on me that I was watching a living legend, a personal hero, and a magnificently talented performer do what he did best right in front of my eyes.
The gig ran for three hours and he never stopped. No breaks, save for one or two instrument changes, and the obvious encores at the end, the energy was incredible. The crowd were actually relatively quiet to begin with, but the quality of the songs, matched with the enthusiasm of the band was infectious, and it soon started to tell. Everything was included. There was old fashioned rock and roll in Helter Skelter, Drive My Car, Jet, Day Tripper; there were quiet solo moments in Blackbird, Yesterday, Calico Skies; there was genuine emotion and intimacy in My Love, Here Today, Something, and The Long and Winding Road; there was motown funk in Got To Get You Into My Life; surreal rollicking in Magical Mystery Tour; famously bad songs in Obla-di Obla-dah and Mull of Kintyre; Christmas giggles in Wonderful Christmastime; ambient electronica in the Firemen songs; a new song from the latest Robert De Niro film; and throughout a genuine grip exerted on the crowd by the man at the helm of this amazing group of musicians.
Obla-di Obla-dah was actually very enjoyable. Terrible on the White Album and hated by John Lennon, as a live romp it came across particularly well, and had everyone up on their feet. Mull of Kintyre started well enough but then on came the bagpipes. Seriously, bagpipes. I go and see Paul McCartney and it costs me a bloody fortune and he brings on bagpipes!! If I wanted to listen to bagpipes I would...well, I would probably just borrow a shotgun and end it all, but I certainly wouldn’t splash out that kind of money on a ticket to a concert! Still, I’ll find it in my heart to forgive him I suppose, he did write Blackbird and Lady Madonna (and about a million other great songs). Strangely, the most fun of the evening was probably had during the slightly obscure “Mrs Vandebilt” from 1973’s Band on the Run. Hidden gems are not uncommon in the Wings back catalogue, but I wouldn’t have picked this one out as an obvious choice to select – but it really came to life and the atmosphere it created was fantastic.
I simply don’t have a bad word to say about the experience. Yes, it was expensive, but sometimes in life things are just worth paying for. When I look back in however many years (or minutes really, since I haven’t once regretted shelling out for the ticket) I won’t ever say “Ooh, I once spent £x on a Paul McCartney ticket,” I will be thinking back to the three hours that I was lucky enough to spend singing along with the man who taught me music, in great voice, in great form, and leaving me in a great mood. If any gig wants to out-do what I saw last night from a 67 year old scouser, the artist in question is going to have to work incredibly hard. It was more than a bit special, it was absolutely bloody incredible.
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