Patch Voice: Love Him Do

By Colleen Walsh Fong

His speaking voice was hoarse and his once amazing range is compacted like a jpeg. But at 72 he can still rock out, getting everyone in a packed, 18,000-capacity arena on their feet singing every song. And he’s a Beatle. Our Beatle. One of us. I went, I saw, I sang. And yes, I spent 40 bucks on a tee shirt.

Sometimes I forget Paul McCartney isn’t an American because he’s had such an impact on our culture. I’ve seen lots of great bands: The Stones, The Dead, The Who, Crosby Stills and Nash. But the Beatles had stopped touring long before I was old enough to go to a rock concert. The first time I saw McCartney live I think I cried. He opened his show with “All My Loving” and I was suddenly a 7-year old kid getting goose bumps when hearing it for the first time on the Ed Sullivan show. I flashed back to the way the little dab of Brylcreem went missing from boys’ heads as they brushed their bangs forward in Beatle style the following day. Most probably had to restyle after leaving the house to get passed the parent barrier.

The hair thing is hilarious in retrospect. Their do’s were so tame by later standards. Yet it caused uproar among the days’ adults. I can still hear my late Aunt Kay exclaiming, “For heavens sake, you can’t tell if they’re boys or girls with that long hair.” Girls around the world clearly did not agree with Aunt Kay. But I guess the Fab Four’s arrival here in the wake of a presidential assassination gave them something less disturbing to talk about.

It’s hard to fathom the hold that foursome, and this one lone Beatle who carries on touring with relentless fervor, has had on us for 5 decades. And that may be the key. It’s generational. I grew up listening to the Beatles and so did my kids. My late parents, who would be almost 100 today, learned to appreciate their talent and enjoyed many of their songs.

I’ve probably heard most of the “Out There” line up thousands of times over the years. But hearing it live was like being asked “Where were you when Kennedy was shot?” thirty-nine times, but in a quiet, internal way. When Sir Paul and his band played “The Long and Winding Road” I was an 8th grade girl listening to one of my first 45 rpm records and wishing the Beatles would go back on the road one day so that I could see them in concert. The next week news of the Beatles’ break up hit us like a brick to the knees. All hopes of ever seeing them live were dashed. I’d forgotten about that disappointment and that song, it never really being one of my favorites anyway. But that lost memory came back when I heard him sing it live.

“Band on the Run” brought me back to high school and thoughts of my great pal, Karen, who let me borrow her album because I couldn’t afford to buy my own. It was the most Beatle sounding thing I’d heard to that date since their split. “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da” reminded me of my mom who I never heard sing, except in church. But she sang the chorus of that song with me one day and she liked the tune. My adult kids laughed at “All Together Now.” They must have listened to the “Yellow Submarine Album” a hundred times as children and they shared a memory when it was played. But I remembered a college friend insisting it was an anthem for equality. The memories McCartney’s music evokes are collective, but they’re singular, too. And that’s another key to its longevity.

The anecdotes Paul sprinkled throughout the show are evidence that his Beatle charm hasn’t lost its sparkle. But the tale that told it all is of his trip to Red Square in Moscow. His was the first rock band ever to be invited to play a concert in Russia. (And by the way, their live version of “Back in the U.S.S.R rocked the socks off of the original on the White Album, beloved though it will always be to me.) As McCartney tells it, he was invited to meet with members of the Russian government. The Russian Defense Minister approached him and said, (and here McCartney dons a Russian accent,) “You know, Paul, the first record I ever bought was “Love Me Do.” This of course astounds the audience since a person could find himself in a Siberian labor camp for such a transgression in those days. Another government official told him, “We all learned English from Beatles songs. You know, “Hello, Goodbye?”

And soon enough it was time for him to say goodbye, and he did it in typical McCartney marketing fashion. Rumors that this is his last tour are rife of late. He closed his third and final encore with “The End” but then he said to the crowd, “See you next time!” If there is one, he will.

Colleen is a freelance writer specializing in producing custom content for businesses.