
When Paul McCartney performed during the opening ceremony at the Olympics this past summer, he sucked. The 70-year-old's voice sounded weathered and shaky, there was a strange delay in the sound of the TV broadcast, and his sing-a-long at the end of "Hey Jude" was shrill and irritating. The song went on for seven minutes, and it felt interminable.
But here's the thing: who really cares? Paul McCartney is the world's richest and most famous rock star, and his song catalogue with the Beatles is to pop music what William Shakespeare is to the written word; it may never again be equaled, and is the standard against which all future stars must inevitably (and unfavourably) be compared. At this point, he gets a free pass.
Despite his shoddy performance, Sir Paul was perfect for the finale of the Olympic Opening Ceremony simply because there's no one else iconic enough to fill his shoes. Approximately 50 years since Beatlemania took hold, there's still no one who can make a spectacle like the Fab Four.
Like so many others, I've loved the Beatles ever since I was a toddler and my dad would listen to his well-worn vinyl copies of 1962-1966 (a.k.a The Red Album) and 1967-1970 (a.k.a. The Blue Album). As a teenager, my fandom intensified, as I discovered their albums for myself and read any biography I could find. I delved into their solo work, travelled to Liverpool to visit the Beatles museum, and, somewhat embarrassingly, covered "Norwegian Wood" with my first band.
For music fans, immersing oneself in the Beatles is a rite of passage. These days, I almost never listen to them -- I don't need to. Their songs have sunk in so deep that they've become a part of me, and are the foundation on which all my other musical experiences are based.
So when I go to see Paul McCartney at BC Place this Sunday (Nov. 25), I scarcely care whether he plays well. When it comes to current-day Macca, the music is an afterthought. Have you listened to his most recent album, his pop standards collection Kisses on the Bottom? I certainly haven't, although I'm sure it sold plenty of copies at Starbucks.
I'm going to the show so that I can be in the presence of a legend. If the quality of his Olympic performance was any indication, he probably won't be doing this for much longer, and considering that he hasn't played in Vancouver since the Beatles came in 1964, this will likely be my last shot. I'll never have another opportunity to hear "Blackbird" and "Eleanor Rigby" sung by the guy who wrote them; even if he sings them badly, that's still pretty awesome.
Hell, I'll probably even partake in a shrill sing-a-long of "Hey Jude" when Paul inevitably asks me to.
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