By: David Schultz
Unless you are new to this whole classic rock thing, you might have heard that in 1965 The Beatles played a relatively historic show at the recently opened Shea Stadium in Flushing Meadows, New York. About a year ago, when Billy Joel played Shea’s last concert in July of 2008, you couldn’t avoid hearing about the stadium’s memorable first one, especially when Paul McCartney appeared to play “I Saw Her Standing There” and “Let It Be.” With Shea Stadium demolished, the Beatle bassist’s return to play the first three shows at the glossy, spanking new Citi Field felt right and proper. At Friday night’s show, the first of three while the Mets are on a road trip, McCartney made no attempt to avoid talking about the 44 year old elephant in the stadium, referring often to the fact that when he played there many, many years ago, no one could hear a thing due to the girls in the crowd screaming their heads off. This Beatles’ no rookie; every time he mentioned this fact with an impish grin on his face, he produced the intended effect of getting every girl to howl as if the 67-year-old musician was once again a mop-topped youth.
When McCartney toured in the early 90s, his shows were notable for his attempt to reclaim his own Beatles songs by reintroducing them into his set list, most significantly the mammothly crowd-pleasing “Hey Jude.” As he’s not shied from his legendary material in the past two decades, especially at high profile gigs like Live 8 and the Super Bowl, it seems odd to imagine that McCartney playing “Hey Jude” was once a stupefyingly, momentous event and generated as much, if not more, excitement than any of the recent reunion tours. Led Zeppelin reuniting to play “Stairway To Heaven” or Jim Morrison rising from the dead to play “Light My Fire” are the only things that come close to explaining its modern day equivalent.
With the clouds of an approaching storm thick enough to completely obscure the overhead planes departing from nearby LaGuardia Airport, McCartney took the stage at the cusp of nightfall, launching into “Drive My Car,” the first of many Beatles classics that would grace Citi Field. The weather would play a none-too-insignificant role in the evening. The slow, unobtrusive drizzle gradually evolved into a steady shower, placing a damper on the middle of McCartney’s set which he populated with digressions into some of his less-inspired recent solo material. Once the weather broke and “Flaming Pie” and Fireman songs were replaced by “I’ve Got A Feeling,” “Paperback Writer,” “Day Tripper” and a stage-exploding, fireworks-laden rendition of “Live And Let Die,” the night became everything everyone had hoped it would be.
For two and a half hours, McCartney brought Citi Field on a nostalgia filled trip down memory lane. He covered all eras of The Beatles as well as revved up many of the best songs from
Band On The Run, his best album with Wings. Included within the show were nice homages to fallen friends and lovers. A visibly emotional McCartney dedicated “My Love” to his first wife Linda, accentuating the fact that the man who once professed that all you needed was love may now include a footnote about needing a good pre-nuptial agreement. Playing a ukulele given to him by George Harrison, McCartney turned an initially simple reading of his mate’s “Something” into a lush gorgeous stadium-quality workout.
Tug Of War’s “Here Today” was played for John but the real Lennon tribute came when McCartney abruptly transformed a straightforward version of “A Day In The Life” into a sing-along version of Lennon’s “Give Peace A Chance.”
Notwithstanding McCartney’s offhanded quip that they already played “Back In The U.S.S.R.” upon hearing a plane flying overhead, the show didn’t really have a loose, spontaneous feel to it. One of the problems is that there’s very little left to be told about The Beatles. Since their breakup, hundreds of books have been written containing an endless number of anecdotes and stories with every bit of Beatle trivia and minutia being dissected under a microscope. Consequently, McCartney has very few stories to tell that we haven’t already heard. After an instrumental segueway that relied heavily on “Foxy Lady,” McCartney related the tale of Hendrix playing “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” within hours of the album’s release. A fine story . . . only it’s beyond a twice-told tale.
The author (or co-author) of a legendary catalog of generation-defining songs as well as a central participant in the birth of the live concert experience, McCartney can get away with stage theatrics for which others should be rightly lambasted. With Vegas-like schmaltz, McCartney announced his last song and went into the reprise of “Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Band” with its cloyingly appropriate “we hope you have enjoyed the show” and after hitting the meaty section of “Carry That Weight,” finished with The Beatles’ definitive statement, “and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.” For anyone but McCartney, such a cloying ending to a show would be cringeworthy. To have it come accompanied by the songs behind the words was simply divine.
If breaking the musical champagne bottle against the hull of the new Queens stadium in the same manner as The Beatles christened the old one wasn’t enough to fulfill anyone’s sense of continuity, bringing Billy Joel out to reciprocate his Last Play At Shea guest spot for a quick run through “I Saw Her Standing There” brought everything full circle.
IN THE YEAR SINCE BILLY JOEL played Shea Stadium, the issues that cast a blemish upon the evening of anyone who traveled by public transportation have been radically improved. Instead of a herd of people being corralled like sheep towards the subway entrance, a 45 minute clusterfuck of incompetence, the post-McCartney crowd was greeted with a straight shot to the subway platforms, constant announcements that identified which tracks would be running express and local, competent, pleasant and dare-I-say it humorous personnel. In the time it took to do last year’s Bataan Death March, you were already back in New York City. I have no clue whether this is the result of the Citi Field management, the New York City Transit Authority or some organization that beneficently fixes colossal municipal screw-ups but whoever is responsible deserves serious praise.