Paul played a pair of shows earlier this week in Buenos Aires, Argentina, and one of them triggered a kind of spiritual ecstasy within Pablo Toledo, a journalist for the Buenos Aires Herald. Go here to read his review, which bears the rapturous headline, "My eyes have seen the glory of the coming of Sir Paul."
Excerpts:
It was like watching Michelangelo take a large blank canvas and repaint his masterpieces with the wisdom gathered over the years.
. . .
But the key were the songs: McCartney wrote or co-wrote the soundtrack of many lives, of several decades, perhaps of a whole century. Every pair of ears in the audience had gone through them a few thousand times before, and yet they hit just like the first time, perhaps more so from all the bundled personal history – a first kiss, a breakup, a hard time, a happy day. Like Hey Jude, which he wrote on a car to comfort Julian Lennon when his parents were breaking up and now gets stadiums full of people chanting its endless finale in a state of bliss. Like Helter Skelter, once claimed by Charles Manson and now the hardest rocker of the 1960s.
No comments:
Post a Comment