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Maida Vale-able Macca.


This evening’s blog was submitted a little later than I would have liked – but let’s be honest: today has been a bit of an extreme.

I’ll probably go into a little more detail tomorrow, when I’m (1) not travelling back on the train from King’s Cross, and (2) not a little bit inebriated – but today I was lucky enough to watch Paul McCartney record a live session at Maida Vale Studios, amongst an audience that numbered two hundred at the very most.

I was stupidly close to the action; here’s a little photographic evidence, as proof:



Anyone who knows me well would already be familiar with this, but for those who don’t – Macca is my biggest influence; the single-most reason I considered performing in the first place.

I’m not exaggerating: the catalyst for me picking up a guitar / wanting to be a performer can be traced back to this one particular Scouse source. This man is the sole reason for chasing my dreams and aspirations – and ultimately, for living in debt.

Bastard.

I’ve been lucky to see McCartney live a few times – and meet him, briefly, on a couple of occasions – but tonight was particularly special, as I was as standing as many feet away from him as I am tall, while he played for a good hour and a half. It was a beautiful and, at times, emotional experience; a tear came to my eye on a couple of occasions: once, during ‘Band on the Run’, because it means something to me (I couldn’t give a f**k what you think) – and once, during ‘Hey Jude’ when he sang “…and any time you feel the pain, Hey Jude, refrain; don’t carry the world upon your shoulders”. I don’t even really like the song that much, but this chimed for me 100%: I was a mess; I got it.

Don’t believe the popular perception: at 71, the man can still very much do it.

I also had the added bonus of spending the entire gig standing behind Vanessa Feltz. Her partner was videoing the whole show on his mobile: he had a sense of perspective.

As she passed me on her way out I told her how disappointed i was that she’d be knocked out of 'Strictly' (I’m ‘Mr Popular Culture’). She was very sweet about it, and – I think – grateful of the support.

…but back to the point.

Tonight Macca gave me a little wink; I’ll never wash my eyes again; not even if I have a particularly bad bout of conjunctivitis.
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