Paul McCartney at San Jose Arena
October 22, 2002 Part I: There will be a show tonight Six friends, we are lifelong devotees of the Beatles, Wings, Paul, and everything related. We gather in stages throughout the day, but our evening officially starts at 5:30, when we finally converge. We have made dinner arrangements at the restaurant below the arena, in order to gain access to the building as soon as humanly possible. Even though Paul's not yet arrived, we can't resist the urge to move into his aura as soon as possible. Outwardly, people around us are serene, seemingly indifferent to the momentous event just over an hour away. Within this elegant restaurant, it's just another night. We order exquisite dinners, trying to disregard the price. Because this is a special night, nothing is too good to mark this evening. We eat, we chat, I keep looking for signs that others feel my keen anticipation, but all remains calm. Gathered around the dinner table, we are suspended in time. I check my watch; it's just four minutes since I last checked it. Winds of change finally blow through with a stranger who rushes to his friends at the next table. "He's here!", and all six of us snap to attention. We strain to hear every word without obviously eavesdropping. He speaks to his friends earnestly but quietly, just below hearing level, but it doesn't matter. It's enough to know he's here. Time gets nudged again when Harold exclaims, "The sound check! They're doing the sound check!" We listen, and he's right, of course. Now that he points it out, we've intensely aware of faint notes coming from deep within the building. I start to fidget with thirty minutes yet to pass before they'll allow us into the arena. Two of our party head for the rest room, and return with the astounding news that on the way to the bathroom you can actually hear Paul singing as he warms up. I jump from my seat and try to sound calm as I ask the nearest usher for directions to the rest room. I rush into the hall, but as soon as I hear his voice I slow to a casual stroll. I know they won't let us "loiter", but I don't want to rush this! I hear snippets of a couple of songs, and I'm overcome with the awesomeness of it. I am speechless as I enter the rest room. I can't hear him in here, and I need a couple of minutes to regain my composure. I'm calmer as I meander back towards the restaurant, prolonging the trip. In amazement, I realize I'm actually hearing Lady Madonna. It's muffled, I can't hear all the notes, but Paul's voice is unmistakable. Finally people are dropping their calm facades. Word is spreading, more people are showing up in the hallway by the minute. They're still trying to look cool and aloof, but there's an unmistakable brightness in each eye. Some take up positions by the wall, but the ushers quickly herd them out of this forbidden area. A tease is all we'll get. By the time I get back to the table, the bill is being settled. Our waiter is elusive, darting about frantically and becoming unraveled. "300 people here tonight, we've never been so busy!" He doesn't know where to turn first, but we try to make it our table. As the magic hour of 7:00 nears, when people will be allowed in to the arena, the air is starting to agitate as the focus shifts. Finally we are ready to move. I want to run, but when we enter the hallway to the seats, it's like a maze. We wander aimlessly, disoriented by corridors and closed doors. Frustrated, someone finally grabs a door and pulls; looking in, we find ourselves on the threshold of the vast arena. Like a special affect in a movie, the suddenness takes my breath away. The arena is virtually empty, we're among the first of the public to enter. We wander for a while just to watch the crowds arrive and savor the sweet anticipation just forming in this part of the building. The arena is deceptively quiet and calm like the eye of a storm. We find our seats and are delighted with the proximity to the stage. We're directly off to one side; we won't see his face unless he turns to us. But we're happy to be close enough to actually see him without binoculars. I'm relieved that our group is pleased with the seating I've arranged. We settle in and I want to watch everything. The arena is quietly filling. Out of the corner of my eye I see a stunning blonde go into the restroom just off the corridor behind our seats. "That was Heather!" Harold quips. I am more excited than I would have thought, and I spend the next ten minutes trying to spot her coming out, before he finally has the heart to confess that he was just kidding. I am mortified, but willing to laugh at my gullibility. Nothing will spoil this night. Part II: It Won't Be Long And finally there we are, the six of us stretched out along Section 117, Row 17. Not close enough to reach out and touch him, but not bad. Definitely not bad. People are slowly finding their seats, sounds of muted talking all around us. We are happily in our seats, but antsy. To pass the time, we analyze everything. Is the concert sold out? How will the stage be set up? Which new songs have been added for tonight? Half of the enormous stage is covered by huge curtains, blue with yellow and gold borders, kind of an Indian motif. Despite the space, they are gently swaying in response to the bodies milling way below them. And then a good omen: three women stand survey our row and loudly proclaim ours to be ideal seats. Paula gives me a thumbs-up. Digital clocks line the arena to track the passage of time. Harold and I are chatting and scanning our surroundings when I note eight o'clock, straight up. Show time, but still no starting signs. 8:19, and at last the lights seem to be dimming. Or am I imagining it? I hunt for some tangible signs. The overhead tracking lights have awakened; little dots of light are flitting over the audience. I warn Harold, and we settle into our seats. The lights haven't fully dimmed, and much of the audience is still milling. I focus on individual lights and am rewarded by spotting costumed figures emerging from various entrances throughout the arena, hard to spot among the moving crowd. But everyone's seated in short order and watching the figures work their way through the audience. I check the entrance next to Harold's seat, and YES! Our entrance is also highlighted. I jab him in the ribs - watch the entrance, we'll see one close up! I turn to my left to tell the others. By the time I turn around again, I've missed the grand entrance. The long slender figure is already past our row, rather Victorian looking in a yellow jacket with long tails and ruffled cuffs. White stockinged legs, and an enormous powdered wig pulled back into a ponytail. And he's holding a fan against his chin, looking around him with a mixture of fear and bewilderment at his strange surroundings. His face is eerily pale, as are all the others'. The costumed figures span many time periods, many cultures. A Venetian in long flowing cape, a harsh looking mask on his face and a mournful one on the back of his head. Crazy impressions as he shows first one face, then the other. A woman in an amazing dress -- big hoop skirt, and lights woven all along the front of the dress, eerie dots that begin to float through the air as the room continues to darken. Many more figures, looking lost and befuddled as they wander up one row and down another, constantly under the scrutiny of the spotlights. Indeed, they are creatures caught out of place and time. They slowly work their way towards the stage, moving to a slow, insistent tempo that is setting the mood. While they are on their journey, six large blue balloons emerge in a line from the back of the arena, rising high above the crowd on the main floor. These also work their way to the front; halfway up they cross through the audience to the other side of the arena, bobbing along until they disappear at the side of the stage. The exotic creatures are still among us. Movements are unhurried, and seemingly random, but all converge at the stage and climb up. Other figures join them from the sides of the stage: a mythical-looking Indian figure that appears to float in the air while spinning two women around and around. A muscle man with his enormous barbell. Animated chess pieces? We're not sure what we're seeing, but we're enjoying the show, although from our seats we can't get see what is happening in the center of the stage, which is obstructed by the blue curtain. The "pre-show" continues for about twenty minutes. Part III: In Which Doris Gets Her Oats Before I expect it, a guitar chord abruptly cuts through the arena, and the crowd erupts into screams as the notes reverberate through the air. And I know what they are seeing, although we can't see it from the side: Paul's silhouette projected against a vivid blue background, next to the enlarged profile of his beloved Hofner bass. Then he's on stage, launching into the first song in what will be over two solid hours of music. There is not an empty seat in the stadium. Thousands of fans. The audience has come alive, screaming, cheering, welcoming Paul, from 0 to 60 in three seconds. And as intensely as I've been watching to see the magic start, it happens too fast for my mere human eye; the curtain is gone, vanished in the blink of an eye, and Paul is center stage. "I say hi, you say 'lo; You say stop, I say go, go, go, Oh noooo, . . . " A grin spreads across my face as the music washes over me. Paul looks great - How could he not? Dressed smartly in a jacket over a fitted red shirt, he takes command of the stage amid his formidable new band. We truly have great seats. We can see Wix on his keyboard, drummer Abe Laboriel, Jr. flailing away, Rusty Anderson on guitar closest to us, and Brian Ray on the far side. For the first time in years, I am actually close enough to see the music being made. We are in for a great show. In my excitement I almost forget that I have smuggled in a camera. It's a cheap throw-away one, but I pull it out and begin snapping pictures. I don't want to risk using the flash. The film is 400 asa, and I take the chance that the vivid lights washing over the stage and the enormous video screens will provide enough light. If they come out at all, the first ones will be blurry from my nervousness. Hello Goodbye is over, and Paul pauses in the show to say hello to San Jose. He is in a friendly, chatty mood. "When I said last April that I'd be back, even I didn't know it would be this soon!" The crowd roars its approval. Then the band launches into Jet. He's good, he's sounding so good, such a privilege to hear his voice live. The long list of hits begins: Jet, All My Loving, Getting Better, Coming Up. Then they launch into one that blew me away last April when I heard it live: Let Me Roll It. This song is so bluesy, sounds so incredibly good when it's done live. I sit back and close my eyes to savor the rich notes spilling from the stage. By this time I'm singing along and my hands are dancing on my lap, at times rising up as if directing each note. And I am taking it all in - every note, every vibration hanging in the air. This song gives me such a thrill. It's so much more alive in this arena than it could ever be on a piece of vinyl or plastic. And it's over too soon. Then a few from his newest album; Lonely Road, Driving Rain, Your Loving Flame. Harold thinks he spots Heather in the front row. "See the blonde, the one with her hair pulled back in a pony tail?" I see two blondes. "She's standing next to a woman in a pink sweater." Oh, ok. I'm not convinced, and not even sure which blonde he's referring to. Both are next to women in pink sweaters, as odd as that sounds. I don't worry about it for long, I'd rather listen to Paul. Now, a real treat for us. Paul sends the band away, it's just him and us, an intimate little gathering, and thousands of us sit in respectful silence as Paul prepares for his acoustic set. He starts with Blackbird, explaining the origin of the title, "bird" meaning "girl". This is a song of inspiration, of a young black woman struggling within a racist society. This set includes a dedication to John, Here Today:And if I said I really knew you well, what would your answer be? If you were here today."Let's hear it for John!", and John is honored with the thunderous applause of a standing ovation. The first tearful interlude, and the arena is heavy with emotion as Paul moves into his dedication to George. He tells a story that the ukulele was George's favorite instrument, and that if you went to dinner at his house, he would pass around ukuleles so they could make music. He talks about the time they debated the real way that Something should be played, and Paul demonstrates on his own ukulele, singing a speeded-up version. Bigger-than-life pictures of George on the video screens behind him, reminders of what we've lost, as we wipe more tears away. Fool on the Hill Such a sweet song. This was one of my very favorites. The screen behind him projects pictures of a younger Paul skipping along a hill in his long overcoat. Images from a video seen many years before. Now this song makes me think of my good friend Sudipta, who shared his Magical Mystery Tour cd with me. I was intrigued that the lyrics were slightly different from what I knew; taken from the movie, Sudipta said. I listen closely to this version, the same words I've been singing for years. How sweet it sounds. That's it for my camera. I have a flicker of regret, before becoming totally absorbed in the concert. Michele, Yesterday... After several quiet songs with us, the band rejoins him, and the pace picks up again. As if the acoustic portion was a spiritual cleansing, our hearts are even more open than they were before. The energy in the room has changed, the audience more involved. He moves through several of his best, one hit coming after another. I can't keep my hands still, can't keep this silly grin from my face, can't stop from singing along. My voice is lost in the vast arena. I periodically shake my head in utter disbelief that I am living this moment. I think back to when I saw the Beatles in 1966. How young I was, how in awe. I remember the roar all around me, but I was light-headed and could only sit mutely with my mouth open in wonderment. As this concert unfolds tonight, I realize this is my night to scream, to yell, to give voice to all the excitement I have felt over the years because of this man. "I love you, Paul!" My screams are still pathetic efforts that don't convey my passion, but I won't be silenced. I am glad to be next to Harold. His deep, resonant voice does what mine cannot, although I keep trying. Can't Buy Me Love - Harold and I end up singing to each other, marking the beat with pointed fingers. Can't buy me love, no, everybody tells me so. Can't buy me love, no . . . No, no, no, NOOOOOO. The women in front of us turn to watch and laugh delightedly. This is one concert where I won't be a passive observer! With each song, I sing a little louder, bounce a little wilder in my seat, wave my hands through the air. Helen Wheels - Slow down, driver, want to stay alive, I WANT TO MAKE THIS JOURNEY LAST! My throat is already hoarse. In defiance, I sing louder. Freedom. The crowd loves this one, and we sing as one. I look over our row, and Paula's 83 yr. old mother is up dancing. Why not me?! From then on I stand up for the real rockers, dancing out my energy in time to the music. I have never felt so alive. Even Lila joins us. Have I ever seen her this relaxed and happy? Ah, this is a night to remember. Live and Let Die, the pyrotechnics song. When you were young and your heart was an open book, you used to say "live and let live (you know you did, you know you did, you know you did), but when this ever-changing world in which we live in, makes you give in can and cry, LIVE AND LET DIE - KA-BOOM! Explosion, showers of white sparks shoot up from the floor of the stage, clouds of smoke hovering in its wake. I knew this was coming, but the close loudness reflexively makes me yell and jump halfway out of my seat. I'm not the only one whose heart skipped a beat. The excitement of the audience is evidence that this ride is definitely an E ticket! I settle into the groove of the song and wait for the matching explosion a little later. What I don't remember is the three columns of flame; they look to be about four feet high and flare for way too long. Can I really feel the heat from this far back? You betcha. This part's a little too scary for me, but finally ends. Paul, mugging it up, is making scared little faces and patting his heart as if he also almost had a heart attack. I can't imagine how it felt on stage. This audience is definitely rockin'. And now, one of the songs I've come here for - Back in the USSR. Last April, I could close my eyes and swear I was hearing the Beatles playing live on stage. I am so impressed with the band that Paul has put together, and this song is one of their best. I'm on my feet once again, dancing with wild abandon. Screams are increasing in volume. At times my ears become overwhelmed by the screams, like listening to speakers that are cutting out. Yow, much louder than the last time I was here. Each song is accompanied by a ghostly echo of the audience singing along, followed by tumultuous cheering and clapping. Farther into the concert, Paul launches into another song that I've specifically come to hear: She's Leaving Home. This tour is the first time that this song has been played live. The song is unbelievably beautiful and oh so sad. Paul's voice hits the notes perfectly, his timing is exact, I am mesmerized. For once I am not watching him directly, but watching his face on the monitor before us. To miss his expressions would be a big mistake. Paul's face is reflecting the hurt and confusion related in the song, he is bringing the story to life right before our eyes. Nothing else exists at this moment but this timeless and poignant tale of a child breaking free of parental protectiveness. I am helpless to stop the wave of emotion. My eyes fill with tears as the song overpowers me. The song is perfect, one of the best performances of the night, and that is saying a lot. Daddy, my baby's gone! How could she treat us so thoughtlessly, how could she do this to me? He touches his hand to his heart, and I actually feel a restriction within my own chest. This song alone is worth the price of my ticket. I hope I can preserve this in my memory. I Saw Her Standing There. We are on our feet again, when did I last dance like this? The song picks us up and carries us along, and thrilling doesn't begin to describe the sensation. What a gift from those four talented lads from so long ago. Songs destined to live forever. No wonder the Beatles will always be in our hearts. Paul launches into a couple of his anthems, first Let It Be, then Hey Jude. The camera focuses on the audience, all his loving fans, and the signs that they have brought with them. The last one they show is Heather, who is standing between the stage and the first row. From where I'm sitting I can see her from the back, and now that I see her I recognize her instantly. There are thousands of us singing along, and Paul has our undivided attention. He commands "Just the men now," and the women's voices instantly drop off. Another chorus: "Now the women", and the men fall silent. I marvel at his effortless control of this mob, and then another command, "now just the top rows." How willing we are to obey his every request. He only has to ask once, and quietly at that. The voices singing out are beautiful. Could anyone else get this result from so many people who were so recently screaming uncontrollably? Finally it is over. Paul thanks us and with that, the band sweeps off the stage. But we are loath to let him go. We scream, and predictably the band again takes the stage. The songs I remember from the encore: Sgt. Pepper, The Long and Winding Road, Carry that Weight/ In the End. And I'm sure there were more. We made him come out for a second encore, screaming until it seemed the roof would fall in. It took a long time, but the band filed out to the stage once again. When the last note had died, Paul admonished us, "listen, now, I have to go home. More importantly, YOU have to go home!" Yeah, like we'd rather be in bed sleeping than here in this magical place. But of course, we had to let him go, and there were no protests when he left the stage for the third time.
Well, knowing you, you'd probably laugh and say that we were worlds apart. If you were here today.
But as for me, I still remember how it was before, and I am holding back the tears no more.
I love you
What about the time we met? Well I suppose that you could say that we were playing hard to get,
Didn't understand a thing, but we could always sing.
What about the night we cried? Because there wasn't any reason left to keep it all inside.
Never understood a word, but you were always there with a smile.
And if I say I really loved you, and was glad you came along,
Then you were here today
For you were in my song.
Here today.And in the end
the love you take
is equal to the love
you make
Update (10/31/02) From Dean Gustafson:
Another fantastic time at the McCartney show! I As far as arenas go, I like San Joses' Compaq center better than the Oakland arena, betting it's of less capacity seeming a tad more intimate. The place was all smiles! It's a fine thing to be able to see 3 of these shows ! Making it more able to find details missed on previous times and slightly new persectives. I knew what to expect for the opening extravaganza, which helps it to go by faster (without the anticipation of when Paul arrives). I enjoyed seeing the Magritte character walk by closely with apple carefully placed in front of face, and the lady with the ship on her head elegantly looking around . It was lots of fun to 'Om' along with the far eastern 'Hindu' section of the show, accompanying Ganesh with psychedelic eyes of Krishna. I like that part of the intro leading up to the fab moment of instant Hofner iconography!
Is it just me or is the band getting louder and with more swagger, they're flexing their musical muscles with more touring confidence and it shows. 'Back in the USSR' was high octane and the floor was hopping, all of the rocking numbers did just that. The final 3-guitar ring jam at 'The End' was outrageous! Different songs stand out from one show to another, this time 'Maybe I'm Amazed' was an exceptionally powerful favorite. And then theres the beauty of the acoustic set. 'Blackbird' got a great response from the crowd...actually they all did, with many standing ovations. For the Ukelele introduction, Paul made a comment like "I never thought this ukelele would one day be applauded in San Jose in 2002", further enhancing the applause. When Wix later spoke of "the secret... that there is no shortage of material" (in a droll British-humor way) the message was clear with its irony and got a great response. I noted in my St Paul review that he didn't play bass at all on 'Shes Leaving Home'. It went by me then, this time I noticed he only did during the chorus, a minimal plucking of 2-3 notes in B major. Again this song was beautifully played. Acoustic guitar details: About the 'Ed Sullivan guitar', how could I have previously missed the glaring 'E' for Epiphone glowing from the pick gaurd! Correcting myself from my last review (I couldn't really go back and edit what I wrote) I should have been referring to what looks like a Martin acoustic guitar for most of the rest of the show, judging from what looked like the 'CF Martin' logo on the headstock. I could see these things better from where I was seated this time. I liked seeing a peace sign on Rustys hand, especially given what times these are. 'Freedom' with its fighting march feeling has given me and a few others some skepticism, to be saved by the fact that it really is an open ended song. The "fight for the right to live in freedom" can mean many things not as a wartime plea. But we won't get a cover of Lennons 'Give peace a chance' to follow it up. (most of us do allready know that Paul is one of the worlds true peaceniks). Of course 'Live & let die' is a roller coaster of an entertaining pyro tune... and fun it was, with those extreme torches and Rusty falling down at the end. Paul shaking his head in mock disapproval of the blasts. Even though I always considered it a cheesy concert cliche move, for 'Let it Be' I brought a lighter to hold up especially for that song, knowing that he enjoys that touch and it does work nicely with the candles on screen and all. (careful not to torch the hair of someone sitting in front of you...or burn your hand, those things get hot !) Hofner throwing to the roadie after 'I saw her standing there': Not worried this time, I've seen it before, they have bass tossing mastered. Later in contrast was the royal handling of the Les Paul ! Paul is in such impressive shape, these shows have exceeded expectation, even in that he would tour again! ( thought it would never happen a year ago). A few days later I saw the great 75 year old jazz drummer Elvin Jones play, and did so extraordinarily. Its encouraging to see these guys going physically beyond what we mostly would expect at their age. It pays to keep up with the musicianship! Another thing is that Paul is a great example for fellow vegetarians, giving positive humanitarian messages, he's doing something right. I was glad to see that PETA had a booth there, with refreshingly no merchandise but plenty of good info. There is the annoyance with the high priced market of concerts these days, (gone are the days when it was all $32.50 and we thought that was kinda steep), but the good memorys and enthusiasm of these recent musical evenings are rare, and should linger happily in our nervous systems for years. This show brought me back and forward, the old becomes new, avoiding being mere nostalgia. What a fine year of Macca shows 2002 has been!
(10/25/02) From Hey Jude:
Here's a review to add to the 10/22 San Jose review section on your website. My review is on my website at: http://www.geocities.com/heyjude160/conrevs.htm