My ongoing obsession with Sir Paul McCartney reached its peak on Thursday night when I got to see my music icon for the 10th time!
I developed a love for The Beatles in my teens when I played my older brother’s vinyl Blue and Red Beatles albums on the family record player.
From their innocent mop-top days to their psychedelic phase, and right to the end with Abbey Road and Let It Be, I am an addict and play their music at least once a day.
The fact that I can see Abbey Road Studios from my flat and that I walk past the iconic zebra crossing on my way to the Tube every day is a testament to my rather excessive fandom. I even run past Paul’s house in St John’s Wood en route to Regent’s Park every other day!
I first saw Macca in Liverpool’s Albert Docks when I was a teenager. To see an actual Beatle on stage in the flesh singing Yesterday and Fool On The Hill and Eleanor Rigby was nearly too much, and after that, it was a deep dive into the McCartney back catalogue whether it was with Wings or collaborating with Elvis Costello. I used to jokingly say that I bought the albums his family wouldn’t – like Off The Ground – but my love of this genius is pretty intense.
I got to see him at the Royal Albert Hall in 2002 when he performed at the Concert For George in honour of his former bandmate. On that spectacular night, he shared the stage with George’s son, Dhani, and with Ringo so it was nearly a reunion! Billy Preston was there as was Eric Clapton. My mind was blown.
Another time, I got to meet the man himself before a gig in Manchester and I kind of blew it. He stood beside a group of us and I couldn’t stop tapping his shoulder as if checking to see he was real.
I proceeded to ask for a photo but he said no, and when a camera was produced anyway, we both looked into it. In the resultant photo, I look utterly crazed and he’s mouthing the word ‘No’. If you didn’t know it, he could be giving his trademark ‘Dooooh’ but sadly, it’s a No. I have the photo framed but on the floor, facing the wall. I think I’m ready to hang it on the wall and tell people the true story behind the mortifying shot.
I took my daughters to see him separately – one in London and the other in Munich. The poor girls have been spoon-fed Beatles/McCartney since they were little but they really are fans too, and I needed them to see our Mozart play the piano.
At another gig in Dublin, I had a ticket in my inside jacket pocket but not just any ticket, this was for a Beatles concert that they never played, and it was given to me by Chris Evans when he was a guest on The Late Late.
I met the late Gerry Ryan, who was fortunate enough to get backstage to meet Paul, so I gave him my ticket and he got Paul to sign it above the picture of his little Beatle head! That ticket is also framed and hangs proudly on my wall as it features a holy trinity of three guys I admire still very much.
Fast forward to a very special Macca gig in The Cavern Club on Liverpool’s Matthew Street. On a hot summer’s afternoon, around 150 lucky souls got to watch him up close in the sweaty venue where it all began for The Beatles (it was across the road but they rebuilt it so the effect was the same) and that was magical.
At that stage, I suspected it might be the last time I’d get to see him but the man is a force of nature, and at the age of 82, he shows no signs of stopping. He recently returned from a tour of South American capitals and played Madrid, Paris and Manchester before landing in London this week when he took to the stage on Wednesday and Thursday nights.
Thursday night was extra special as both my girls were with me, so we could enjoy Maybe I’m Amazed, Helter Skelter, Live And Let Die, Get Back, Band On The Run, etc. It was an extraordinary performance from an unending back catalogue.
We even got Wonderful Christmas time – complete with snowfall – for the season that’s in it. We got the Tube home but we could’ve happily walked on air.
