A BEATLEMANIAC'S MAGICAL MYSTERY NIGHT

The Beatles have been the soundtrack to my life, a love affair that continues unabated to this day.

Not old enough to see them when the came to Australia, and deprived of the opportunity to ever see my hero John Lennon (the only "where were you when.." moment in my whole life I can remember is the moment I heard of his death) and George Harrison, it has been a goal to see at least one of the remaining Fabs in concert - and I didn't care which one. And so, when Paul McCartney added London to his Out There world tour (which has now been going for two years), then it was a no brainer; last Saturday night was finally my date with Beatle destiny.

The O2 stadium holds 20,000 people and it was overflowing. Immediately noticeable was the demogaphic, a sea of predominantly middle aged, baby boomer Moptop fans, a sea of happy, benign music lovers out for a trip down memory lane. My own emotions are running wild; I'm excited at the prospect of seeing McCartney, yet with an unusual feeling that it may be good and not great (post-Beatles, his solo material leaves me cold); better than good would exceed my expectations.

It started unusually. For 45 minutes leading up to his onstage appearance, a visual montage of paintings and photos detailing key moments of his life scrolled down the two giant screens to a backdrop of cover versions of Beatles and McCartney songs; I'm still to work out why he would do that. Finally, the band take centre stage, McCartney carrying his iconic Hofner violin bass that he has used for live performances since receiving it at the Royal Command Performance in 1963 (it's the little details like this that stir this Beatle fan's emotions).

The audience sitting at ground level rise as one as Paul starts out with 'Eight Days A Week', he's sounding terrific and boyhood memories are flashing past my eyes. I expected the crowd to sing along as would definitely occur in the Spanish capital, but this doesn't happen.

Second song and it's straight into 'Save Us' from his latest album "New", which sounds for all the world like ELO having a bad day, and the energy is temporarily drained from the audience, and me in particular; this is the letdown I was anticipating, albeit not so soon. 'Can't Buy Me Love' restores the equilibrium, and he mischievously asks "What shall we do now?" before rolling into 'Listen To What The Man Said' from Wings' "Venus And Mars". It's apparent that over the years his set list remains fundamentally the same (by sheer necessity if nothing else), but he does throw in the occasional new song and the rare treats. Tonight he ticks both boxes by providing a "world premiere" performance of 'Temporary Secretary', a dismal song that even has the 9yo sitting beside me inquiring "is this one he's written by himself without John?" - out of the mouths of babes! 'Let Me Roll It' sees him change instruments, and it's fair to say that as a lead guitarist he makes a superb bassist!

The appearance of his Epiphone Casino ES-230TD foreshadows a stellar rendition of 'Paperback Writer'; this was the guitar he used when the song was originally recorded in 1966 (and also on 'Ticket To Ride').

McCartney's forte has always been his ballads, and the paean for his wife Nancy, 'My Valentine', is sublime; he's still got it within him to write something achingly beautiful. Wings and Beatles favourites follow in rapid succession before he brings the audience down again with the vacuous 'Hope For The Future'. McCartney is no man's fool, and at the conclusion of the song he makes the observation that "I know when you like a song because there's thousands of phones in the air, but I didn't see any for that one!" Anybody who thinks that there is a single person who has come along principally to hear his new material is plainly delusional.

'And I Love Her' kicks of a glorious acoustic bracket and is followed by a stunning 'Blackbird'. Such is the beauty and timelessness of this extraordinary song that it also acts as the cue for the audience to finally start singing along. 'Here Today', written for John after his death, is a poignant tribute (the strength of his balladry yet again!), and playing 'Something' on the ukulele (a George tribute) is an inspired move. The downhill run from here is a cavalcade of majestic Beatles classics; the band are on fire, McCartney is clearly delighted to be playing in front of his home audience, and the entire stadium is on its feet singing along as 'Back In The USSR', 'Let It Be', the pyrotechnic extravaganza of 'Live And Let Die' and, of course, the finale - the ultimate singalong, 'Hey Jude' brings the house down.

The encore starts out with another first, as Paul has never previously performed 'Another Girl' in the UK. A rollicking 'Hi Hi Hi' follows, before Dave Grohl makes an appearance for a rousing four guitar stomp through 'I Saw Her Standing There'.

Exit, stage left, but even though the show has gone well over the curfew time (11:00pm), this surely can't be the end....and it isn't. With only Brian Ray's keyboards as accompaniment (more on this shortly), Paul returns to sing what all 20,000 in attendance know is coming, the world's most covered song, and with 'Yesterday' comes a lump the size of an egg in my throat. The rest of the band, Paul 'Wix' Wickens (guitar/bass), Rusty Anderson (guitar) and exuberant drummer Abe Laboriel Jr., a constant presence for over a decade, rejoin the party and McCartney still has it in him to give a virtuoso performance of 'Helter Skelter'; it is truly fabulous. He could have left it there, but "Abbey Road" provides the piece de resistance, the ultimate show closer. The closing triplet of 'Golden Slumber', 'The Weight', and 'The End' is punctuated by Paul, Wick and Rusty exchanging guitar solos, and decades of waiting for this moment, of finally seeing a Beatle play live, to hear the songs from music's greatest canon sung by the man himself, is completely overwhelming; lucky the lights are down low!

 The need to play his new material is understandable, even if it does perceptibly change the mood of the audience, and Paul's performance for almost three hours is, for the most part, stunning - surprisingly strong vocal performance, superb at the piano, serviceable on guitar...and then there's the bass! What was perhaps the biggest disappointment was the lack of depth in the sound when it came to those songs that featured strings and/or brass (e.g. 'Yesterday'). There is no substitute for the quality and depth of sound genuine strings and horns bring, and to replicate this with lacklustre flourishes from the keyboards lessens the impact. Picky? Maybe, but this is Paul McCartney after all.

Musically it was great, although Paul McCartney at the O2 isn't in the ten best shows I've ever seen (nor did I expect it to be), but when it comes to the most cherished musical events I've ever seen then it sits mighty close to the top of the pile. And what of the 9yo sitting next to me.

Apart from the 30 minutes when he nodded off(!), he loved it, his favourite moment coming with the appearance of the Epiphone Casino and 'Paperback Writer'. If my musical taste is generally not shared by Liam, the music of The Beatles is the one concession he makes. In future years, he will be able to say that his first ever rock concert was as a 9yo seeing Paul McCartney, a Beatle, the greatest living composer of popular music in the 20th century. Not many kids can boast that!

Setlist:
Eight Days A Week
Save Us
Can't Buy Me Love
Listen To What The Man Said
Temporary Secretary
Let Me Roll It
Paperback Writer
My Valentine
Nineteen Hundred And Eighty-Five
The Long And Winding Road
Maybe I'm Amazed
Falling
We Can Work It Out
Another Day
Hope For The Future
And I Love Her
Blackbird
Her Today,
New
Queenie Eye
Lady Madonna
All Together Now
Lovely Rita
Eleanor Rigby
Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite!
Something
Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da
Band On The Run
Back In The USSR
Let It Be
Live & Let Die
Hey Jude

Encore:
Another Girl
Hi Hi Hi
I Saw Her Standing There (with Dave Grohl)

2nd Encore:
Yesterday
Helter Skelter
Golden Slumber
The Weight
The End

TRAINS & BOATS & PLANES.....

....are all on the final day agenda. But first, Tinno advises me the new record isn't the blues album it's the 'Surf Cats' album - when too much twang is never enough.

JJ and I decide to give finding a decent coffee and fresh food brekky one last shot. We pop into a gym (most have health bars attached to them) and we get another linguistics lesson. "Is there a good cafe nearby?" The response isn't so much a suggestion as a directive: "You're going to turn right and then turn right at the end of the block and look for the blue awning." It turns out we are at the Brazilia Cafe and....it's FABULOUS!

Absolute best service we've encountered all trip, great coffee, and fresh produce (even going out of their way to accommodate JJ with non-menu items). As we walk back past the gym, the young girl who gave us directions comes out and chases us up the street to enquire how we went. The affronted elderly lady two days earlier is right - New Yorkers are nice people. (Travel Tip: if your in funky town, i.e.NOHO, try Brazilia on the cnr of Broadway and Great Jones St. Don L will stake his coffee reputation on it - and that doesn't happen too often).

Not much is gratis in the Big Apple but the Staten Island ferry is, so its on the subway and down to the terminal. At the subway, the plastic bag holding all Don L's one and two cent coins breaks, no doubt someone in more need than me will pick them all up.

Dang!

 Next door to the terminal is a beautiful building currently under restoration. We ask a tourism official what it is (you know something good's coming!) who explains that it was built as army barracks during the independence war: "You know, when the British invaded America!" Now none of us pretend to be historians, but we're scratching our collective heads and agree that the friendly official might need to brush up on his knowledge!

We take the ferry over, the receding Manhattan skyline dominated by the new WTC, and get a first hand look at the Statue Of Liberty, which of course requires a few bars of LRB's hit to be sung.

We contemplate having morning tea there but choose to come back straight away. We decide to ask someone else for directions and a lovely young tourism lady provides us with excellent help. However we're left with tears flowing down our cheeks when she introduces herself: " My name's Sharnell, like the perfume!" 

Sharnell

As we're on the train heading Uptown we reminisce about the bevy of unusual names we encountered in New Orleans, three of which rise to the top causing uncontrolled, spontaneous laughter for the next hour. This is GOSPEL TRUTH....the checkout assistant at Rouse's supermarket was called D'zire (without being unkind, no one did), better still was her female workmate named Treva! Given the similarity I couldn't resist mentioning what an interesting name she had: "Yeah, my dad wanted a boy and so he just dropped the 'or' and stuck on an 'a'". But the gold medal goes to one of the IOU housekeeper, who it has to be said was a little sensitive about her name. "My name is Sha-Tay"...her name tag was 'Shitheadd'...GOSPEL! Some parents have a lot to answer for.

We come up to the surface at 125th Street in Harlem, and there is a very different feel to the south of the city.

Time for a slice of pizza, so we jump into the Two Bros Pizza store, where you get 20 minutes to sit and eat, and my vegetable slice was very good.

$1 a slice!

Up the road we get to our destination, the world famous Apollo Theatre. The footpath has name plaques for the legends of soul and Don L can almost hear James Brown in full cry. Dress rehearsals are going on and so we can't go inside, but the security guard kindly takes some snaps for me.

We all get to touch the Tree Of Hope which, since 1934, has stood on the stage for Wednesday's Amateur Night and performers rub the tree in the (forlorn) hope it will bring good fortune. It's considered to be the toughest audience in the world - I have got to go and see a show.

Harlem is north of Central Park and marked by a particular street. One of Don Legsy's all-time fave songs is Bobby Womack's "Across 110th Street" and it is beholden that we actually do this; a simple moment perhaps, but poignant for Don L.

Rumours persist that video footage exists of this memorable moment, and of Don L singing his unique version of 'the song', but fortunately it hasn't surfaced! The real thing goes like this, and you simply must listen to it:

The family on the other side of town
Would catch hell without a ghetto around
In every city you find the same thing going down
Harlem is the capital of every ghetto town

Across 110th Street
Pimps trying to catch a woman that's weak
Across 110th Street
Pushers won't let the junkie go free
Across 110th Street
A woman trying to catch a trick on the street
Across 110th Street
You can find it all in the street

We're winding down now, time to pack and have a quick stroll up St Marks Place and check out the local stores. The comic store proprietor is paranoid and confiscates my bag, giving me a suitably appropriate bag tag for later redemption.

And like everywhere you go, there are always interesting things to see on supermarket shelves and images that contradict the ambience.

Funky - not!

Contains no milk - go figure!

Switchel - water, vinegar and ginger!

I'll have six please!

For our final dinner, Tinno's putting his local knowledge on the line and we're going to Koreatown (I didn't even know there was one). The great man selects BCD Tofu House and it's terrific. Marley, whom we first met at the IOU in Nawlinz also joins us and we have a memorable evening. Don L can highly recommend the chicken terriyaki (whaddya mean it's not Korean?). AND - the staff were all great too, earning a little extra in the tip.

The last word on a fine dining evening should rest with Tinno. Across from the hotel is a dessert bar where mi hermano is accosted by a table full of chicas, but Tinno's no fool - he knows what they're after - and he isn't sharing his dessert with anyone!

Anyone would think it was Nigel Tufnel

The real object of their affection - Tinno's dessert

That's it. We're flying in different direction, Tinno to Memphis, JJ to Hawaii and Don L to London. It's been a fabulous trip, memories shared with old friends and lovely new people we've met on the journey. New Orleans never fails to disappoint - go there! New York hasn't grabbed me previously, but now I get it - I need to get back there. And a special thanks to JJ who has helped me with recollections from her copious notes and some candid snaps - gracias hermana.

TAKE A WALK ON THE....

...Highline! But first, it's downstairs to have a bagel for brekky - not my cup of tea (or coffee, but when in New York....) We're heading Uptown to West 102nd Street and so we wrestle with the underground ticketing system. Just as the London tube has its iconic 'Mind The Gap' announcement, so too does the NY subway, except here they use Mr Ed the talking horse (are you old enough to remember?) to announce "Mind the clowwwzing dorrrrrzzzz" - it's very funny.

Train advertisement

One of the great things about travelling is the people you meet. As we ponder where to have a cawfee, a nice lady asks us if we need assistance. After giving us her recommendations (none worked for us!) I politely said to her "thanks, it was very nice of you", a statement to which she took umbrage - "Aren't all New Yorkers nice?" was her parting comment and she huffed off...c'est la vie.

JJ decides to walk back via Central Park and meet us in Times Square. Tinno and 'the chronicler' (i.e. me) have a date with greatness, and we are suddenly standing in the lounge room (now a home studio) of none other than OZ NOY! Tinno's currently working on his new blues album (presumably to be called 'Blues Cats'?) and Oz has agreed to guest on a track. Over two hours, he weaves some magic whilst I sit on the couch wondering what the neighbours must think when he starts crushing riffs through a Marshall amp in a tiny one bedroom apartment! He intuitively improvises each piece over and over again until he knows he's got the best of what he has to offer, then moves on. He's happy and, more importantly, Tinno's very happy; watch this space for details of when the album will be finished and available.

We get to Times Square and meet up with a wide eyed JJ who has walked down to the John Lennon Imagine memorial and taken in all the sights.

Strawberry Fields in Central Park

The John Lennon Imagine Memorial

The Dakota building - home to the Lennons

Times Square

No King Kong on the Empire State Building

As we head off in the direction of the Highline, we pass the Sam Ash Music Store and the lure is too great - Tinno nips in and tries out a Johnny Marr signature Fender Jaguar - fortunately, the neck's too think for him and we walk out empty handed!

The Highline looks nearly completed now. It's interesting, but such is the paucity of natural (green) space in NYC, excluding Central Park, that much is made of it. The converted freight rail line isn't the essential tourist attraction it's made out to be, but it is a pleasant walk, even if the imbecile at the coffee stand tries to ruin my day by refusing to put my triple shot into a small cup (unusually for me, I give him an appraisal and cancel the order, prompting Tinno to utter - not for the first time - "tell him what you really think Trev"!).

Visible from almost anywhere

Livin' the high life in the Highline

Purple Haze

Tonight is special. We head to The Village again (in a cab as our feet are worn out!) and go to the famous jazz club The Blue Note.

We have the best table in the house for dinner and the show - none other than the pioneering jazz bassist Stanley Clarke, a founding member (at 20) of the incomparable Return To Forever and hugely responsible for making the bass a front-of-stage solo instrument; a true visionary. First, our waitress gives us another unique NY soundbite; in response to the innocent question "How much is a G&T", she matter of factly responds "I want to say $15"...we wait in anticipation for what she will say ($18, $20, $25??) then realise this is the answer and not an apology. Linguistics tickles me!

Clarke has three outrageously talented musicians in  his band. Beka Gochiashvili is a 19yo pianist from the Republic of Georgia, Michael Mitchell a 20yo drummer from Dallas, and Cameron Graces a 21yo keyboard player from L.A. For the next 75 minutes we are treated to some of the most mesmerising jazz Don L has ever witnessed, as each member took solo turns, constantly rising above the base patterns to issue a challenge to the next soloist. Clarke played double bass for the whole set, intermittently flexing his fingers (RSI must be the bane of a musician's life) and it was exhilarating, played at breakneck speed by both virtuoso and prodigies alike. I have never openly laughed in sheer amazement at the dexterity and inventiveness - and I wasn't alone. I mention to JJ that it reminds of the famous Miles Davis quote when, in response to jazz guitar virtuoso John McLaughlin asking him what to play, he simply stated "play like you don't know how!" (clearly, genius operates on its own level!!). At the end, the SCB and the audience were totally spent and the endorphins were humming. Stanley Clarke, the Hendrix of the bass guitar - tick that box!!! (Music Tip: If you want a real treat, check out Stanley's Journey To Love [1975] and School Days [1976] albums - as essential to any record collection as Miles Davis's 'Kind Of Blue').

All that's left to do is walk around the corner to MacDougall Street and have a slice of cheesecake and coffee at the famed Caffe Reggio, where in 1927 the first espresso in the U.S. was served (the first espresso machine, made in 1902 is still there and in working order) and featured in the film 'Finding Llewyn Davis'.

First espresso machine in the U.S. (sorry, it was very dark inside!)

That should have been a happy conclusion to an outstanding day, but wait....

Don Legsy is locked out of his room again! The reason (and you just know what's coming!)? "According to our records, you haven't paid for your room sir" was Frank's response. Needless to say, there were plenty of red faces when the previously insisted upon receipt was produced, and Don L retired with a perverse sense of satisfaction. (Travel Tip: Seriously, do not stay here!).