Beatleweek Part 2: You say it's your birthday? Paul McCartney visits Chicago for mine!

Seeing A Hard Day’s Night in a theater was a memorable experience, but the real highlight of this week and summer (and a major life event) was being lucky enough to see Paul McCartney live and in person.  Sir Paul gave Chicago an astounding show that exceeded my expectations.  If at any point in this post it seems I’m not quite making sense, it’s because I’m sleep deprived due to the fact that he played for nearly THREE HOURS.  Practically continuously.  If there’s any reason to forego sleep on a weeknight, it’s staying up late to see a Beatle with superhuman energy and stamina journey through over 50 years of era-defining hit songs.

I’m so glad I jumped at the chance to see Paul this time around.  Last time he was in Chicago I couldn’t afford tickets.  Admittedly, I probably couldn’t quite afford them this time, but I don’t regret it.  Besides, when I found out that Paul McCartney was playing a show in Chicago on my 24^th birthday, it felt like a sign that I had to go.  My friends Jenny and Lizzy, my steadiest concert buddies who are even bigger Beatles fans than I am, were just as willing to do whatever it took to see him.  I’m very grateful to Jenny for going through the stressful process of ticket-buying while in class at veterinary school.  She even recruited her friend to help her get the best possible seats.

Yesterday…

After weeks of subtly mentioning to almost everyone that I would see Macca on my birthday, finally, the day had arrived!  I overslept, quickly threw on my favorite dress, and headed out to work.  Nothing could ruin my mood: it was my birthday, I had secured a month extension on my lease the day before, the weather was beautiful, and most importantly, in a few hours I would be in the presence of one of the most influential musicians of the last century and writer of the songs I grew up listening to.  Beatles songs played in my head all through work, and after 5:00 I dashed off to meet my friends at The Billy Goat Tavern near the United Center.  The place was packed with fans, many wearing Beatles and Paul McCartney shirts and chatting excitedly.

Around 7:00 everyone migrated en masse to the United Center.  Our bags were checked, our tickets were scanned, and we were in!  We browsed the merch stand (I bought a set of postcards) and a fifty-something couple joked with us that we were the youngest people there, and did we know who The Beatles were?  At least, I hope they were joking.

He was totally wearing Beatle boots.

The concert was entertaining from start to finish, especially the second half which was especially Beatles-songs-laden.  He opened the show with the cheery vibes of “Eight Days a Week” and finished it off appropriately with “Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight/The End.”  In between those were 35 other excellent songs.  That is 39 songs in all, if you count the last as three.  THIRTY-NINE.  More than twice the average setlist for any other performer.  I guess you have to play that many songs when you have such a mammoth catalogue of work.  I can’t possibly go through each one here, so I will pick out the best bits.

Most Pleasantly Surprising:

When he finished off “Let Me Roll It” with a jam out to Jimi Hendrix’s “Foxy Lady.”  Of course I had to record it for my dear friend and Ace Gang member Val; you see, it’s our song.  FOXY!  Then Paul told us a story he apparently tells at all his shows:  The Beatles had released Sgt. Pepper on a Friday, and two days later Jimi Hendrix had learned the song and opened the show with it.  By the end of the song his guitar was so out of tune that he called out to Eric Clapton, who was in the audience that night, to tune it.  My brain melts from just thinking about all of them in the same room together.

Most Poignant:

This was easily when Paul played “Here Today,” his tribute to his bandmate and friend, John Lennon: “a conversation we never got to have.”  It was beautiful and heartbreaking.  I wish so much that John were still here and could have played along with Paul.  He must have been there in spirit.  I hope so, anyway.  I think everyone can agree that we are glad that Paul met John all those years ago.

A close second was when Paul played “Something” on the ukulele and dedicated it to George.  It was bittersweet, but it’s impossible to be completely sad when you hear a George song, especially when played on the ukulele.  I think this version was a great tribute, given George’s fondness for the ukulele.  I plan to learn to play this version on my own. *UPDATE: I have done this.

Most Spectacular:

“Live and Let Die” was SO COOL live.  How else would you perform a James Bond theme song but with loads of pyrotechnics?  It was fireworks and fireballs from beginning to end, punctuating each riff, filling the United Center with smoke and the smell of gunpowder.  The musicians were running about the stage looking like they were having more fun than anybody.

Most dancey:

Lizzy made us realize we absolutely needed to stand up and dance to “Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da.”  It was an odd situation since most people actually did sit during the show, given that it was a huge arena and the vast majority of the audience was on the older side.  There were some songs that many people did stand for, and many that were at the very least given a standing ovation.  I hope we didn’t block the view of the people behind us though, because we did rise for several particularly fun and/or important songs.

Most rocked out:

“HELTER SKELTER!”  Paul and his band gave all they had for that song.  It was loud and gritty and screamy and badass.  If you had come into the show right then (which would have been really unfortunate as it was at the end) you would never have guessed that these guys had already been on stage playing for over two hours almost nonstop.

Most spiritual:

“Let It Be.” Obviously.  What hopeful, reassuring words he wrote.  Always an absolute stunner of a song, but especially when you’re singing along with the man who penned it and 15,000 other people.

Most “Oh my god that is Paul McCartney that is SIR PAUL MCCARTNEY IN THE FLESH IN THE SAME ROOM AS ME”:

I cannot tell you how fortunate I feel to have witnessed “Hey Jude” live.  What an anthem.  The room was filled with pure joy as everyone sang “Naaaa na na nanana na” at the top of their lungs.  Paul let us do a few ourselves as he beamed on stage.  He must still feel a huge rush from that.  Why else would he keep touring when he could have retired long ago?

Oh but “Yesterday” hit me pretty hard too.  That’s one of those songs that I know so well, is so familiar to me, that I feel right at home when I hear it.  Despite its melancholy nature, it makes me happy.  I couldn’t resist singing “Scrambled eggs…. Oh my baby how I love your legs” during one of the verses.

Ok, actually there were a lot of “OH MY GOD IT’S REALLY PAUL” moments.  Of course.  But other big ones for me were “Get Back” and “Maybe I’m Amazed.”  I was really glad he did “I’ve Just Seen a Face” as that’s one of my favorite songs.

What a fantastic experience it was to see one of the musicians who most shaped my musical education live, and I am so glad I got to share it with friends who feel the same and understand going to great lengths to see a 72-year-old man play songs he wrote fifty years ago.  It struck me that we are very fortunate to be the ages we are now. (Here is where my thoughts might get hard to follow but bear with me.)  While we may not have been around in the sixties to experience The Beatles’ rise to fame and all the changes—both musical and cultural—that surrounded it, our parents were young enough latch onto the band’s music then.  They then introduced us to The Beatles as children.  Their songs became more familiar than nursery rhymes, and we grew up to understand and appreciate their legacy.  Had we been 20 years older, our parents likely would have been too old in the sixties to become fans in the first place.  Had we been younger, our parents would have been born later and likely wouldn’t have grown up loving their music; what’s more, if we were too young we might have missed our own chance to see Paul or Ringo live!  It’s bad enough that I’ll never see George Harrison or John Lennon or all The Beatles together… but as I’ve said, I feel extraordinarily fortunate to have had the chance to see Ringo (twice), and now Sir Paul McCartney, who has written so many classic songs that I still find ones I haven’t heard before.

I don’t know if I’ll get to see Paul McCartney live again.  I really hope so.  But I am grateful for the chance to have seen him this once.  The only downside to all of this is that I doubt any of my future birthdays can top my 24^th.

I Become a Devout Follower of St. Vincent

I'd like to be one of those people who is well-versed in every band, artist, musical genre, etc.  However, I will never be.  My tendency is to get really, really, REALLY into one artist, listen to them obsessively and almost exclusively for weeks, and then heavily from thereon out.   But up until recently, I was in a rut.  There were definitely some bands that I discovered that I really liked, that were on heavy rotation on my iPod, that I recommended to friends, but none that stopped me in my tracks.  It wasn't until last Saturday that I felt myself getting very excited about a single artist.

That would be Annie Clark, otherwise known as St. Vincent.  

I wasn't even sure that I liked St. Vincent when I initially heard of her when Strange Mercy came out.  Her music is so unique I probably couldn't fully process it right away.  But somewhere along the line I recognized its excellence.  It's mostly my friend Devinne's fault.  Annie Clark is her spirit animal.  She invited me and our friend Marianne to see St. Vincent and David Byrne of Talking Heads (Devinne's favorite band ever) at Ravinia last summer during their Love This Giant tour.  We were on the lawn, very far from the stage, but danced like we were in the front row.  I liked what I heard from the master of art-pop.  I was familiar with a couple St. Vincent songs but the Ravinia show peaked my interest.

Weeks ago, Devinne mentioned she was looking for someone to accompany her to see St. Vincent at the Riveria Theater.  I didn't bite right away but as I heard more of her new self-titled album, I decided I wanted to go.  Luckily the ticket was still available, so we made plans for a most superb Saturday.  In the mean time I began to study up on St. Vincent's discography, not becoming an expert but at least familiarizing myself with her work and noting some stand-outs like "Marrow" and the dreamy "Huey Newton."  All of St. Vincent's music is an exciting blend of poetic and graceful vocals, crunchy beats, Disney-esque instrumentals, distorted and intricate guitar, and electronic -- I don't even know.  It's bricks taken from different genres and eras and used to build something completely new and interesting and twisted and gorgeous.  She's also gifted with an ethereal voice and a marvelous range.

On the day of the show, Devinne and I headed to the Urban Outfitters on Diversey.  Not for shopping, but for something much, much better: meeting the incomparable Annie Clark.  From somewhere I'd received a notice that there would be a meet and greet at the store.  Upon arrival an hour early, we were surprised to find that there was no line.  In fact, I think we were the only people in the store for a while.  Eventually more fans trickled in and we queued up to wait and whisper excitedly.  Suddenly, she appeared looking impossibly chic in a geometric cape and black platform boots with a black scarf thrown over her wild white-gray hair.  She smiled and greeted us.  "Hi guys!"  Although Annie Clark is known for being very private and even secretive, she seemed very warm and friendly to us fans.  Maybe it's because it's part of her job, to be nice to fans, but I don't think that's it.  As she signed albums and posters, she chatted with each one of us.  After she asked how to spell my name for the autograph, I told her I loved her Portlandia cameos.  She said it was fun to do, and really hard not to laugh on set.  I explained that it was all Devinne's fault that I was a fan and going to the show that night.  Annie Clark looked at Devinne through her round red retro sunglasses: "I blame you."  When Devinne asked her to sign her Kindle cover, she asked what she was reading and seemed genuinely interested.   The music goddess was genuine, sweet, and seemingly mortal.

If I wasn't properly excited for the show before, I was now.

It is strange to think that the woman calmly signing autographs and chit-chatting is the same person that I saw on stage that night.  A killer android, a human sonic machine holding court in the Riviera Theater.  "She is the queen," Devinne stated, "and we are her subjects."  St. Vincent gave us a show of astonishing audiovisual art that set her apart from any music artist I have seen live.

Annie Clark is easily one of the best guitarists out there.  Her talent doesn't lie just in playing intricate riffs and melodies.  She pushes the guitar past its limits, having conquered it as a tool not for just music but for dramatic sound effects, looking all the while like she's not even trying.   In fact, everything she did looked effortless.  Of course, the opposite is true; St. Vincent (Annie Clark? When do I use which name?) is incredibly hardworking.  Every aspect was meticulously calculated choreography, down to every note played on her guitar.  She and her band and everyone behind the scenes must have put in a serious effort to turn a concert into a sci-fi avant-garde performance.

My photos cannot accurately capture the performance.
We had an awesome view though -- just too far for clear pictures.

The lighting designer in particular deserves an award.  Rapid color changes complemented the frenzy of songs like "Rattlesnake" and "Birth In Reverse" The shadows cast on the back wall created a spooky shadowplay looming over the stage.  Annie Clark's hair seemed to switch from pink to green to orange to blue with every new beam of light (maybe a factor in the decision to bleach it?). The strobe lights created scenes of stop-motion, turning the musicians into automatons.

Clark herself oscillated between machine and animal, one moment shifting back and forth like a mannequin on a conveyor belt, the next draped upon the steps, slowly sliding down one by one as if she were made of liquid.  When she stood atop her pink pyramid-throne proclaiming "I don't want to be a cheerleader no more," she seemed like a giant.  I can't imagine who could possibly be above her to cheer for, given that the crowd may as well have been genuflecting.

Every so often she would speak to the crowd about how she felt we had a lot in common.  How she believed we had all told a little lie once, how we felt ill the next day and wondered if it was punishment, how that, in order to right that wrong with the universe we built a symmetrical shrine out of tin foil and PBR cans and two neon Coors Light signs.  How she felt we had all had had an imaginary friend, an imaginary friend who we thought began to get too much attention, and how we had unceremoniously killed that imaginary friend.

Not only was the performance visually and sonically stunning, it was fun.  Really fun.  When I wasn't gaping at Annie Clark's brilliance, I was dancing and singing along.  I was pleased to discover that I recognized more songs than I'd expected.  Annie Clark also led the theater in a true-to-the-original cover of "Lithium" in remembrance of Kurt Cobain's death 20 years ago to the day.  That was the only cover, I think, but I could tell that working with David Byrne of Talking Heads had influenced her, or at least that they were on the same wavelength, performance-wise.  You could see hints of it in the robotic choreography, and "Digital Witness" definitely has a Talking Heads vibe to it.

I found myself wondering how Annie Clark, St. Vincent, could possibly be human.  How the person sitting at the autograph table chatting about books and television could, hours later, transport 2500 people to another fantastic reality.  But the most amazing thing is that she is human.  A human being, made of flesh and blood like everyone else, can create something so spectacular and otherworldly that it captivates us and transports us from reality.  St. Vincent, it seems to me, embodies art in its most thrilling, extraordinary form.

Friday Marling Surprise

This past Friday I was incredibly lucky to see Laura Marling perform in the very intimate setting of 93XRT's new studio stage.  It was a bit of a surprise and everything happened quite quickly.  I was closer to her than I've ever been, so close that I could clear up lyrical questions by watching her lips.

I saw Laura Marling for the fourth time back in May of this year.  I didn't expect to see her for some time; possibly not until after she released another album.  She's been touring almost non-stop, mostly solo, for months around the US and the UK.  I was envious my friend Hannah who has been able to see Laura at several very very cool “Secret Cinema” shows in London, where she’s spent the last year.  I knew Laura was going to stop in Milwaukee, but lacking transportation and extra money to see her (on a weeknight, no less), I didn't even consider going.

Last Thursday, however, the day she'd perform in Milwaukee, I happened to go to 93XRT's website, looking to see if there were any ticket giveaways to enter.  On the home page, gazing back at me, was a picture of the woman herself, with text underneath that read "Win tickets to see Laura Marling on the XRT Blue Cross Blue Shield Stage on August 16."  August 16 being that coming Friday, i.e. TOMORROW.  I immediately entered, just once – the limit (and I swear they know if you use multiple emails to enter), and began fervently hoping to get an email telling me I won.

The next day I obsessively checked my email, jumping when I saw my unread had jumped up 1.  But that email never came.  I hadn't quite give up yet; each winner gets 2 passes, and I knew from personal experience that you can't always find a friend to attend a show in the middle of the afternoon.  I began posting anywhere I could, tweeting to XRT and Laura Marling's twitter pages asking if anyone needed a +1.  I posted on XRT's and Laura Marling's Facebook pages as well.  I didn't seem to be getting any responses but I kept checking my social media compulsively.  

I was disappointed to see that a notification was just a friend request from someone I didn't know who seemed to be from England.  I deleted the request (I get random requests from sketchy strangers all the time) but then she requested me again.  I messaged her asking why she requested me and her reply was better than I could have expected.

She had won two tickets, but had no way of getting downtown.  I would have been devastated in her situation.  This woman I’d never met offered to change her name on the list to mine.  I couldn’t quite believe it; I had at that point accepted I wouldn’t be seeing Laura that day.  I thanked my new friend profusely and in all caps.  I was touched that she would do that for me, though I know I’d do the same if I had unusable free tickets.  The doors were at 5 pm, so I asked my boss if it would be alright if I left a bit early.  He told me yes and to enjoy the show. 

I should mention at this point that I have a cold and that yesterday was the beginning of it; my heart rate was elevated and I was a bit out of it.  So this, coupled with my Laura Marling-induced emotions (nervous, anxious, disappointed, elated, and excited, in quick succession), made my head a bit of a mess for the rest of the day.  But I persevered and made it through the rest of the day with (hopefully) no serious errors in my work, and practically skipped out of the office at 4:20.

I met with XRT staff at the Prudential Building’s reception desk, where I received a lanyard with a VIP pass with “LAURA MARLING” printed on it.  I was led to the 9^th floor and into a room with a few rows of chairs facing a small stage.  I chose a seat in the front row, about six feet from the stool and microphone stand set up on the stage.  After what seemed hours (it was about 30 minutes), XRT DJ Marty Lennartz walked on the stage to introduce the woman we were all there to see, who had evidently made a last-minute decision to stop by XRT during her day off in between Milwaukee and Ann Arbor.  He announced her name, and the demure 23-year-old/musical goddess took the stage.

The room was silent except for the sound of her guitar strumming the opening notes of “Hope In The Air.”  Through my awe I laughed to myself; at her last Chicago show Laura played this song but forgot some of the lyrics, so maybe she was trying to redeem herself.  And that she did; it was flawless and lovely.  She followed it with “Rambling Man,” one of my favorite songs of hers, of anyone, really.  Maybe it’s because I was so close to her, but I had never heard nor seen that song performed with so much emotion.  I can’t say for sure but she looked like she nearly teared up at one point.  Beautiful.

I watched the fingers that wrote these brilliant songs deftly pick the strings and press the frets as if it were the most natural thing in the world to her.  Considering she’s been playing since she was 5 years old, maybe it is.  Her last three songs were from Once I Was An Eagle: “Once”, “Where Can I Go?”, and to finish up the set as perfectly as it does the album, “Saved These Words.”  When she had played the last note she thanked the crowd, got up, and left the stage.  Not one to linger for small talk, Ms. Marling.

It was absolutely surreal to see her in such an intimate setting.  I feel incredibly lucky to have had the opportunity to experience my favorite (I think I’ve decided she’s my favorite) artist so close, to live in a city where these things are possible, and to have had a complete stranger make my day.  Thank you, Lucy!