Arms around one another, my Mum, my sisters and I stood in awe, great beaming smiles on our faces, watching as Paul McCartney sang ‘Let It Be’. The woman in front of us fussed with her phone, trying to put the torch on and join the other 23,000 people in a moment of profound intimacy.
The man next to her, had come alone, his hands firmly in his pockets, fat tears rolling down his face. When people talk about inheritance tracks, I’m reminded of long car journeys, singing along to ‘Penny Lane’, ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’, or ‘Lady Madonna’.
My parents had a copy of The Beatles Number 1 album in one of those CD carry cases, which always seemed to have BabyBel wax smeared on its corners. After we’d exhausted what was – in my mind – ‘the red and yellow album’ we’d move onto The White Album, made up of less accessible, playful songs, but still had me and my sisters humming along in the backseat.
My mum is a Beatles super-fan, and although I think it is through her I inherited these albums, it is my Dad who I remember singing ‘Eight Days a Week’ or ‘Here Comes The Sun’ to help me fall asleep. As my early memories of the Number 1 album show, it was always Paul’s sweet, melodic songs that stuck with me the most.
During the early days of lockdown my relationship with The Beatles changed. With little else to do, and an untimely warm summer, my younger sister and I spent hours upon hours in the garden listening to music. Around this time, what I like to think of as the ‘Paul McCartney renaissance’ was building, in anticipation of the releases of Paul McCartney: The Lyrics and The Beatles: Get Back (both in November 2021).
I remember reading an article in the Guardian – ‘Paul McCartney: where to start in his solo back catalogue’ – and thinking, ‘Ok, challenge accepted’. I was familiar with a fair amount of solo McCartney, but when sinking my teeth into his monumental discography, I was instantly hooked, transported back to car journeys and lullabies.
I remember listening to Band on the Run for the first time, from start to finish with my sister, and then playing it right back from the beginning all over again. This continued for many months of lockdown; what was an incredibly bleak time became soundtracked by pure 1970s bliss.
Following my Wings discovery, I dived head first into John Lennon and George Harrison’s back catalogues, but was almost instantly lured back by the lightness found only in the tinkles of Ram or McCartney. A highlight of discovering Paul’s solo work was my rediscovery of The Beatles.
The songs that were the soundtrack to my childhood, became the soundtrack to my adolescence, and now, to my adult life. When Paul announced his Got Back tour dates, an instant flurry of messages appeared on the family group chat, with the resounding and unanimous conclusion that no matter what, we would be there.
Being experienced high-stakes gig ticket buyers, I was hopeful we would be fortuitous in bagging a spot in what is a tiny UK tour – especially with the uncomfortable and niggling feeling in the back of my mind that this could be our last chance. It was my sister who was successful, in a ticket-buying experience she claimed was more stressful than the stadium gigs of our fangirl years.
So on Saturday, dressed in my ‘Stop eating animals/Go veggie!’ Paul and Linda McCartney circa 1991 merch, my Mum, sisters and I took to CoopLive to ‘Welcome Paul Back to Manchester’ (my Dad, at home with the dog, enjoyed ‘Let ‘Em In’ via a Whatsapp video call). I was immediately shocked by the size of the queue, and spent the time huddled under Mum’s umbrella, trying to photograph the Got Back promo images in the smurring Manchester rain, analysing and assessing the sea of Paul fans (definitely a less ‘bratty’ crowd than the one I’d seen at CoopLive three weeks earlier).Once in, we headed to the merch stand; I was determined to add a tshirt to my eBay collection that was neither yellowing at the armpits nor covered in a flurry of holes.
After what felt like a painstakingly long queue for a £40 tshirt, I was dismayed to find we’d missed his first song (did he play ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’ or ‘A Hard Day’s Night’?!). As we found our seats, I was already mourning the passage of time, sipping on an extortionate craft ale I would’ve happily exchanged for those two or three missed minutes of McCartney.
The feeling of not wanting it to be over never really left; it is a feeling I always experience either during, or immediately after enormous, visceral concerts. The beginning of the gig set the tone for what would be an impeccable concoction of guitar-heavy late Beatles and Wings’ tunes (he does just like to ‘rock out’ – my Mum was right) and soft, soul-bearing numbers.
It was during these moments I was most moved, awestruck at the overwhelming, dizzying, all encompassing disbelief that I was listening to Paul McCartney, playing ‘Blackbird’ alone onstage with his acoustic guitar, singing the first verse of ‘Something’ with only the companionship of George’s ukulele. After a moderate number of 21st century McCartney songs, Paul really stormed ahead, delivering two hours of uninterrupted (bar ‘Dance Tonight’) genius. McCartney played my favourite Wings’ song – ‘Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-Five’ – and my favourite Beatles song – ‘I’ve Just Seen A Face’ – in almost perfect succession.
The visuals were incredibly moving – his raw,wavering voice in ‘Maybe I’m Amazed’ was accompanied by hazy images of 1969 Paul with baby Mary cocooned in his jacket, and the eerie, dulcet tones of ‘Now and Then’ were projected alongside the song’s music video snippets, poignant whispers of old and new. McCartney moved with an ease and assuredness afforded by his super-stardom; traces of age were only apparent in fleeting moments – covering his ears and mouthing “too loud” during the pyrotechnics of ‘Live and Let Die’ – paradoxically juxtaposed with his fresh airs of youth and playfulness – cockily responding “you wot?” to fans screeching “WE LOVE YOU PAUL”.
For a man who has been performing for over 60 years, McCartney retains both an open, raw vulnerability and an intoxicating, careless ease I have never seen before, and I don’t think I will ever see again.At no point did he break for a sip of water, only pausing to sit when playing one of two pianos, and nipping backstage for mere moments, before his now iconic Abbey Road encore; to this, I have reached the only explicable conclusion that he must be superhuman.
If the Got Back tour has achieved anything, it has well and truly confirmed my belief in the genius of Paul McCartney. I hope my future children, my sister’s future children, or whoever else may follow, will find The Beatles amongst their own inheritancetracks. (And Wings too, of course).
Article by Romy Nicholson.
Musik Magazine 2025
