Every once in a blue moon, a person gets to do something special. Something they’ve wanted to do for a long time, wanted to do for a lifetime. Cross a big one off the ole bucket list. And last week it was a big time blue moon for me and my Better Half.
To back up a bit — way back when, like many many lucky people, I saw something that literally changed my life. I was a kid in pajamas and an indestructible Sauve Hair Cream-induced wave in my shiny short hair, and I was parked in front of our mailbox-sized black and white RCA TV watching Ed Sullivan — nobody ever missed The Ed Sullivan Show on Sunday nights at 8 p.m. — when good old Ed crossed his arms like he always did when something important was about to happen and belted out: “Ladies and Gentlemen! The Beatles!” and suddenly the world as I knew it was never quite the same again.
All at once, all the girls in the packed audience went crazy as four “Mop Tops” in Beatle suits and Beatle boots with strange looking British guitars launched into history with a magical new sound and an instant hit song called All My Lovin’.
I was transfixed and transformed — John, Paul, George and Ringo were clearly from another planet — a planet I wanted to be on, too.
By the time they had finished She Loves You, I Saw Her Standing There and I Wanna Hold Your Hand and bowed that cool unison Beatle bow at the end to the deafening roar of the delirious fans, I tried combing my greasy hair wave down onto my forehead and went to bed that night a different person.
Before too long I had a cheap set of drums, and joined my buddy John in his dad’s sign shop (Art’s Sign Shop — “We Made Signs Before We Could Talk”) with other friends who had instruments and thrashed away in there in our “studio,” building a band. Our first paying gig was our own Grade 9 graduation dance at the Central School gym. I think we may have made 10 bucks each that night. Not exactly The Ed Sullivan Show, and not exactly The Beatles, but it sort of felt like it to me anyway, and it began a long and winding road of many great times with great friends and many great musical memories.
And for me, behind and above it all, The Beatles have always been what I consider to be one of the most significant phenomena in all of pop culture.
But as the years flew by, and the tragedies and triumphs piled up in the public and personal filing cabinets of history, I became convinced that my dream of ever seeing a Beatle in person would never happen. But for some reason, this past year was a banner year for me for what they used to call Beatlemania.
Regular readers of my Saturday rants and ramblings (somewhere between three and six people at last count) might recall a similar Beatle-themed column last fall describing a joyful attendance at a Ringo Starr show in Calgary. I called it a “peak experience,” a “special night” and “too cool to contemplate.” And it surely was a major highlight in my personal scrapbook. But I wasn’t done yet.
I remember saying on the way home that if Paul McCartney ever started touring again and came anywhere near Canada, that even if we had to sell the furniture, one of my old drum sets and the dog, we would just have to go — that’s all there was to it. Because for me, McCartney was the heart and soul of what I liked best about The Beatles, and ever since Ed Sullivan, Feb. 9, 1964, “Macca” (John Lennon’s nickname for McCartney) has been No. 1 on my must-see list.
In those days, it was either Ford or Chev, Rolling Stones or Beatles. John Lennon or Paul McCartney. Some people still see McCartney as a lame purveyor of silly love songs. Not this Beatle fan.
So in keeping with what the guru’s say: “Make your intentions known and the universe will conspire to assist you,” a couple of months ago I happened to see a small article in the paper casually mentioning that Sir Paul had announced a 10-city tour in the summer of 2011. And the closest venue turned out to be not that close: Montreal, in fact. But it was round about our July birthdays and the BH and I have always wanted to see Montreal anyway.
“I know what I want for my birthday!” I shouted loudly, pumping my fist in the air. And a room full of surprised people stared at me on account of I was eating lunch in a busy café at a table by myself at the time.
Let me put it this way: it was a complete and total inspiration — precisely when I needed some. We both loved Montreal — what an amazing city — and the McCartney concert was worth walking to Montreal to experience.
When McCartney came strolling out on the Bell Centre stage 18,000 people leapt to their feet and screamed and clapped for what seemed like 10 deafening minutes — before he even strapped on his famous Hofner bass guitar. It was as close to the Ed Sullivan show as anyone could get.
And when he broke into All My Lovin’, the years went rushing back to the hopes and dreams of a kid when a beloved Mom and Dad were still alive and a whole lifetime of pure potential was still ahead. I was a wreck.
But McCartney wasn’t. Three straight hours of non-stop iconic hit songs. Two encores. Thirty-six songs — every one performed to perfection. He never even stopped to take a sip of water. No silly love songs here — just an incredible night of high-energy legendary music given by a master whose easy-going personality is as generous as his music.
Sir Paul McCartney is 69 years old. But he played and sang and smiled and chatted just like he was on The Ed Sullivan Show. I felt privileged to be there. I may sound excessively fawning, but believe me — you had to be there to believe it.
He and his mates made pure magic in my life over 45 years ago, and last week, in beautiful Montreal, Paul McCartney did it again.
Harley Hay is a local freelance writer, award-winning author, filmmaker and musician. His column appears on Saturdays in the Advocate. His books can be found at Chapters, Coles and Sunworks in Red Deer.