Boston Song

Welcome to paradise.

Welcome to paradise.


“I was gonna make a bucket list, but then I just changed the “B” to an “F” and I was done with it.”   -Jerry Seinfeld


I was able to live the dream of a lifetime when I got to see the greatest musician and perhaps most famous man still alive, a Mr. Sir Paul McCartney.  Making things even more surreal, the concert was held in Fenway Park of all places.  If I were a religious man, it’s what I believe Heaven would be like.  It would have been on my bucket list if I ever believed such an epic concert was possible, but indeed it was.  As for the show itself, I mean what the fuck do you think?  Orgasmic doesn’t do it justice.  A thousand chimps could type for a thousand years and not capture its essence.

Surprisingly, McCartney came out two hours late like he was Wu Tang or something, but nobody was complaining.  Then right away he jumped into “Hard Days Night” and shit was on.  During his masterful set, McCartney slipped a couple tracks off his new CD in there—older musicians always do—but honestly the stuff was pretty good.  Other than that he stuck to the hits, which means every other song he ever wrote.  He also did a tribute to Lennon, then later Harrison with a breathtaking version of “Something” on a friggin ukele of all things.

That’s one of the things that impressed me most, though it shouldn’t have, the amount of instruments this dude played.  He must have changed guitars like eight times, a couple of them what I like to call “weirdo guitars” because they were constructed so incomprehensibly.  Throughout the concert, McCartney also kept trotting up and down to a raised part of the stage to bust out some piano.  Shit was off the chain.

Then McCartney finishes with what else but “Hey Jude” and forty thousand people were on their feet “Na-na-na’ing” for like twenty minutes.  That was one of the coolest aspects of the whole concert, just how massive it was.  I’ve never heard that many people singing together in my life, and everybody there knew just about every song so it was like the world’s biggest sing-along.

When Sir Paul was finally finished blessing the masses, he bounced and got a seemingly endless standing ovation.  Then blam.  The little fucker was playing possum!  He rolled back out and busted out “Yesterday” on acoustic guitar and I went, “Oh yeah, he didn’t sing Yesterday.”  The fuckin guy’s got so many hits he couldn’t possibly do them all, and you still wouldn’t even notice.

Just when you thought he was doing only one last song, uh-uh.  Try a thirty minute encore set.  At one point, he brought some old dude onto the stage and the old coots around me went batshit.  Then I was informed the guy was some guitarist from The Grateful Dead, who had played Fenway the night before.  When the people around me told me who it was, I resisted my impulse to say, “Who?” and allowed them to bask in their senility.

On paper, or on screen in this case, the next sentence I’m going to write will shock and anger you, but just bear with me, it gets better.  As things were winding up, Sir Paul informed the crowd, “I gut wun more special guest fur ya, Rob Gronkowski!”  And with that, the big fuckin lummox himself came out on stage to annoy the world as usual.  Except he didn’t.  Somehow, his mongoloid exuberance for the first time seemed appropriate.  So what did he do?  Well, he didn’t spike Sir Paul, but he did dance all over on stage to “Helter Skelter”, at one point showing his musical range by accompanying McCartney on the goddamn air guitar, of all preposterous things.  As asinine as it was, and as much as The Gunk’s fratboy antics usually make me want to vomit, even I couldn’t get mad at this.  Sheeeit, who wouldn’t get on-stage with McCartney?

Finally, after three hours, McCartney closed the show—for real this time—with “Live and Let Die”, and they timed two massive fireworks displays for both of the song’s creshendos.  It was un-fuckin-believable, especially because by then it was like 11 PM so it was pitch black outside.  It was one of the illest things I’ve ever seen.  Unless he plays in my living room one day, that’s easily the single greatest concert I’ll ever attend.

So yeah, if you ever get the chance to see this new McCartney kid, I’d go do it.  Turns out he’s pretty good.



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