Ranks Revere to Candlestick Sound (San Francisco, 1966)

Ranks Revere to Candlestick Sound

By Cynthia Grant

New Register

September 2, 1966

    The ranks of the reluctant fathers inched along bumper to bumper in the slow lane. The tolerant mothers chauffeured back seats loaded with 14- and 13-year-old girls, while more daring teenagers filed through the fast lane, and all headed for the Beatles' concert Monday night.

     Moving into Candlestick Park, the crowd was obviously a show in itself. Boys' hair hung longer than the girls' and curlier. Mod clothes, definitely in fashion, ranged from sleeveless purple halters to Indian moccasins and headbands.

     Good seats were filling quickly. Center field remained empty, but about 26,000 found their way inside. Sitting in front, three 12-year-old girls looked and pointed, insisting they had sighted the Beatles. Screams arose, and the whole park stood as the armored car, which the Beatles would leave the park in, pulled up to the stage empty.

     For the audience, the show began not with the preliminary acts, but with the Beatles. It was the Beatles everyone wanted to see. The Remains led off the show, followed by Bobby Hebb of "Sunny" fame. The Cyrkle and the Ronettes followed. All were entertaining. The crowd applauded politely for each number. 

    The tension began gripping as the Beatles' approach was nearing. Suddenly, they stepped out of the Giants' dugout, all the Fab Four decked in green suits, screaming, waving, shrieking, cheering; the crowd went wild. The four young men stepped briskly to the stage, waving and smiling at the crowd.

     "Rock and Roll Music" led off the show, and the crowd continued their noisy tribute, standing all the while. After about three numbers, Burns' cops sat the crowd down. Other songs done included "Nowhere Man," "She's a Woman," "If I Needed Someone, ""I Want to Be Your Man" (with Ringo), "Yesterday" and "Long Tall Sally". All 11 songs at 9:25 p.m. and ending three minutes after 10. The show was over. 

    The sound had been excellent, clear, and loud. Compared to the Cow Palace fiasco of last year, the crowd itself was well behaved. Two girls were removed from the field, only one via a stretcher. One rush was made as boys swarmed over the center field fence. Apparently warning the Beatles, the crowd shrieked as they surged in from Willie Mae's pasture. After the first abortive try, another assault was made with the same results. Burns police snapped the youth. 

    Enjoying the happenings, Ringo glanced over his shoulder at the intruders, while John muttered, "They're coming this way! They're coming this way! Head them off!" to the harried officers, away from any of the four. A wave of frenzy swept through the crowd as the 20,000 girls sprang to their feet, screaming and waving. As the Beatles sang, cameras flashed like spotlights. Screams and cries shook the air and blended with the fantastic sound, while bodies rocked or jumped up and down.

     From "She Loves You" to "Eleanor Rigby", their current number one record, the crowd actions expanded. When the 10:30 farewell came, the park was on its feet, giving the last thunderous ovation. The armored car, surrounded by the Burns patrol, pulled away. Fans fled for the exits. The Beatles obviously not to return, but the exit and remembrance solidified the devotion. And parents, adults, non-believers, etc. You only had to be there to know it wasn't as bad as all that.
 

Critic Takes Daughters to a Beatles Concert (Los Angeles 1966)

 

Critic Takes Daughters to a Beatles Concert

By Bob Thomas

Ventura County Star

August 31, 1966

    The Beatles have come and gone, collecting $146,000 and promoting 10 songs in 27 minutes. By way of social commentary, their pay exceeded the combined annual salaries of the President and Vice President of the United States. 

    To the adult, a Beatles concert must be viewed as a social phenomenon, since it is impossible to enjoy as entertainment. Even those with a failing for some of the Beatles' songs can find little pleasure because of inaudibility. 

    The Thomas Group made its third annual pilgrimage to hear the Beatles. Nancy, 18 and ready for college, showed no disenchantment for the Mop Tops. Janet, 14, was in the full throes of fandom. Caroline, eight, was a new entry and not lacking in enthusiasm. This year, the concert was in Dodger Stadium instead of the Hollywood Bowl, and it seemed more fitting for the event to take place in a sports arena rather than a citadel for long-hair music. 

    Dodger Stadium looked somewhat like the Berlin border. Burley guards stood at the bottom and midway of each stairway leading to the field; uniformed policemen with helmets and billy clubs lined the field. Some of them communicating with walkie-talkies. Behind them were three rows of hurdles. Then came a newly erected wire fence. 

    Preliminary acts poured a torrent of noise through the 27th speaker, 2000-watt public address system, while the 40,000 onlookers grew restless and stared at each other. There was much to stare at. One bearded chap in my aisle wore a headdress and robes of an Arab sheik. Another sported a green velvet cape. The girl next to me with the orange page boy bob turned her head, and I discovered she was a fellow. 

    At 9:33, the Beatles came out of the dugout at third base, and it was noisy. Oh yes, it was. At 10 p.m., the Beatles had finished their labors and disappeared into a tent behind the bandstand. Two limousines raced from the tent and out of the ballpark amid screens. Reviews by the Thomas girls: "They didn't sing enough new songs. George's hair was a mess. Paul was the only one who tried to please. They seemed bored, but they're cool. Yes, they're cool. I love the Beatles."

Fewer Fans and Fainters -- But Beatles Bedlam Was as Usual (Toronto 1966)

 Fewer Fans and Fainters -- But Beatles Bedlam Was as Usual

No Writer Listed

The Toronto Star

August 18, 1966

    The Beatles flew on to Boston today with 96,000 Toronto dollars, a white-haired troll doll, and unless the staff got rid of it, a friendly hamster named Brian. Those were among the souvenirs of their third and dullest Toronto appearance. It was the dullest by any yardstick. Fewer fans paid to get into Maple Leaf Gardens. Fewer milled around the King Edward Hotel. Fewer police were needed to handle them. And horrors! Only half as many teeny boppers fainted from the sheer excitement of it all.

     They filled the Gardens last night with 18,000 fans, but only 15,000 showed up in the afternoon. Saint John ambulance workers handled 167 stricken fans, compared with more than 300 last year. The 33,000 who did show up created just about as much bedlam as usual, drowning out their idols with shrieks and trying to pelt them with paper balls.

     At a between-show press conference, the boys gave one-sentence quips on Christianity and Vietnam to reporters. John Lennon, trying to clarify his "Beatles are more popular than Jesus," told a United Church minister he wasn't really against Christianity. "I recommend it to anybody, all the people in the world, especially old people," said Lennon, wearing a pink linen suit. 

    The group said they support the basic ideas of Christianity, and George Harrison added that "People who dislike us are not offering a Christian answer to what Lennon said." Reverend Gene Young, a United Church minister, said afterward he was amazed and really impressed with the Beatles as individuals. 

    On Vietnam, Lennon said he could see no reason on earth why anybody should want to kill anybody else. Challenged to comment on the war itself, Harrison declared, "America is in there, but thou shalt not kill means thou shalt not amend Section A." He said, "People forget about thou shalt not amend Section A."

     "But we can't say things like that," piped up Paul McCartney. "We're not allowed to have opinions. You might have noticed that," said Lennon. The literary Beatle also said anyone who did not feel like fighting should have a right not to go into the army.

     McCartney sat playing with a white-haired troll doll during the conference. One of a mountain pile of gifts sent to Maple Leaf Gardens, and the Beatles Hotel during their stay.

     Is the Beatles' craze ending? "If our popularity does diminish, we'll be the last to worry," said Harrison, who wore a fishnet shirt and a brown windbreaker.  "It shows no signs of diminishing."

     Will the group ever break up? McCartney said, "It will be a bit embarrassing at 35 to be doing the same routine."  Lennon:  "We do not intend to go on holding hands forever. It might last. I don't know."

     But if anyone thought Beatlemania had ended, the fans who swarmed through the Gardens for two shows proved otherwise. Nearly 300 police officers guarded the building in the afternoon. Another 50 were added last night. The College Street subway station scene prompted one TTC worker to compare it to the Blitz. Extra subway staff were on hand to keep people from being pushed off the platform, and barricades were erected in the station.

     Waving signs proclaiming "I'm happy" and "Paul, I love you always." The fans lined up from Carlton Street around to Yong Street. 

    Two Albany, New York teenagers, Mary Ann Scott and Patricia Novak, marched past officers into the Garden Restaurant, having booked reservations a month ago. They later infiltrated the press conference held in a nearby room.

     A 77-year-old Port Hope woman arrived in time for the nighttime show, but tripped on the way to her seat. After sitting out the early acts at a first aid center, she got back in time to stand on her chair and watch the Liverpool group.

     The noise got so bad at one performance that a hefty cop, one of the barriers in front of the stage, pulled a couple of bullets out of his holster and stuck them in his ears. And twice yesterday there was a thunderclap of voices as four famous faces half-skipped into view, wearing forest green mod jackets, charcoal gray slacks, and polka dot shirts. Paper balls, glittering tin foil, and sounds-tons and tons of adoring screams-cascaded onto the stage as the Beatles bobbed about in the pool of light. It went on for just over half an hour, screams interrupted only by louder screams, as youngsters stormed the stage or were carried out.

One youth appeared from nowhere and climbed to a front seat in midair, reaching for the platform. When the crunch came, a dozen officers bore him away. Last night, a youth climbed over the elaborate backdrop barrier, came rolling down yards of bunting and drape behind him. Dozens of teenagers at both shows went into faints from heat and excitement. One girl somehow lost her skirt when she collapsed.

     As the Beatles finished their show shortly after 10 p.m. in a windowless room in the depths of the Gardens, staff members fed a hamster pieces of lettuce and mused over what to do with it. Apparently named after Brian Epstein, the Beatles' manager, the hamster was sitting in the Beatles' dressing room when they came back from the news conference. No one knows how it got through the scores of police. A note with a crayon-drawn heart says, "This is Brian. We love you, Linda and Sue."

     The 65 policemen really didn't have much trouble holding back the 200 teenagers, as the Beatles returned to the King Edward Hotel by police paddy wagon last night. A fan wants the hotel named a national shrine because it has been the Beatles' sleeping quarters three times now.

Beatles Cheered and Thunder Claps (Philadelphia 1966)

 

Beatles Cheered and Thunder Claps Too

By Jerry Gaghan

Philadelphia Daily News

August 17, 1966

    You couldn't hear the thunder for the kids in Kennedy Stadium last night as the Beatles made their second visit to the city. The thunder and lightning, heralding the cloudburst that mercifully came after this beaded-up program, had electric competition from the youngsters' flashbulbs. The pitch-dark concrete glen on South Broad Street littered steadily, as though from an infestation of giant lightning bugs.

     The British aristocrats of rock worked precisely 30 minutes on the improved field stand, which meant that, with the guarantee paid by George Hammond Jr., they were chopping up $25,000 every 10 minutes. Official attendance figures given out were 20,844. No total gross was announced, but with ticket prices at $5 and $3, the Steel Pier impresario had apparently suffered a loss on the show. 

    The ill-timed remarks of John Lennon, the group's downbeat evangelist, undoubtedly cut into the advance sale, and the weather bureau's promise of showers sloughed the gate sales. Police precautions were impressive. There were rows of barriers and blue coats to form a no man's land of more than 50 yards between the English entertainers and the nearest rows of youngsters. However, our well-behaved children gave no indication of any righteous surges in the stadium.

    Gloom, where hawkers of field glasses and popcorn had to hold their wares high just to be seen. There were several false shrieking outbursts as the girls thought they saw their idols. They finally came from under the west stand, and after that, it was one long-standing ovation. Seats may be sold for Beatles concerts, but nobody uses them. Surprisingly, there was a large proportion of young males last night. The boys apparently had decided to live with the Beatles. That's where the girls are. 

    The Beatles come on stage at 9:17, in their conventional three-guitar-down-front and drummer-mounted-backstage arrangement. The squealing and waving, the flashbulbs never let up, but the sound is turned high, so high that you can best hear the words by holding your hands over your ears. 

    The Liverpool Four ran through a succession of their recent hits, starting with "Rock and Roll Music", and gained tumultuous welcomes for such numbers as "She's a Woman, "Nowhere Man", "Paperback Writer, "Day Tripper, "I Feel Fine," "Yesterday," with "Long Tall Sally" for the get off.

     Hamid acted as MC and sagaciously had the "Star-Spangled Banner" played for the finale, while the headliners escaped in a waiting truck to the International Airport, where their private jet took them to Toronto for the next show. Because of the imminent rain, the entire program ran without intermission. The warm-up acts included the Remains of Boston, a group of two guitars, Electric Piano, and Drums, who acted as the noisy accompaniment for other performers, the Ronettes (Be My Baby and Walking in the Rain) and Bobby Hebb, who drew the first ovation with his hit "Sunny." The Cyrcles, [sic] a quartet that started out at Lafayette College four years ago as the Rondells, are traveling with the Beatles. They seem a highly professional unit with bona fide haircuts, trim blazers, and two guitars, drums, and an electric organ for instrumentation. They tally strongly with their trademarks, "Red Rubber Ball" and "Turn Down Day," as well as their impersonations of other groups, the Beach Boys, Four Seasons, Gary and the Playboys, etc.

Casey's World of Sports (Cleveland 1966)

 

Casey's World of Sport

By Terry Casey

The Tribune (Ohio)

August 15, 1966

    The Beatles came to Ohio's largest city, and many probably wish they would never heard of the famed singing group. The performance started out in a peaceful manner with four other groups taking the stage, located on second base in the ball field. Most of those who came were interested in only one thing, and that was seeing and hearing the famed mop-haired foursome.

     The Beatles came into the park by a speeding police escort, and then waited in a heavily guarded trailer in the center of the field till their time came to perform. Many kids were so anxious that the trailer door would bring screams. As you could guess, when the English group came on, the cavernous stadium echoed with screams and cheers. 

    During the singing of the Beatles' first song, it appeared that the crowd would act in a fairly safe and refined way, if there is much of a refined way at a Beatles concert. The second song started, and then a few started drifting down the aisle to the lower stands, hoping to get a better view; then more came. At first, a few, then more jumped over the short wall separating the stands from the field. They then were out on the running track around the field with the heavy snow fence, and police officers trying to hold the anxious youngsters back from their idols, who were more than 150 feet away.

     At first, one or two tried jumping over the fence. Then, in an instant, the fence was overrun in several places. On the field were 6,000 screaming teenagers running to the center, trying to get closer to their favorite singing group. It was mob control with police being left completely helpless. When they got on the field, several fanatics tried to climb onto the seven-foot stage, with police surrounding the group on stage. Even though the Beatles were in definite danger from the mob, they finished the song and seemingly didn't notice the confusion. Ringo Starr was dragged from his drums by a fan with police, then moved the Beatles back into their trailer. 

    Those on the field had a choice of moving back or having the concert canceled. They moved back with over 30 minutes required to return things to normal. When the Beatles were doing their final song, many ran to the ramp where the Beatles came in. The kids were tricked as the black limousine sped out the other ramp. 

    In keeping with the fact that this is a sports column, it should be noted that the most disgruntled man in the stadium was Harold Bossard. Mr. Bossard is in charge of keeping the grass green at the stadium. And after the 6000 kids went trampling over the wet diamond, all the grass was killed. On the field were shoes, sandals, sunglasses, purses, and confetti. The riot that the Beatles caused will require the complete reseeding of the infield at the cost of $5,000, and it nearly forced the cancellation of tonight's game. 

    The force of the mob was so great that steel pipes were bent to the ground. After the mob had gone back to their seats, a policeman was asking if he would prefer working at a Beatles concert or in the Hough area during the race riots. He scratched his head and replied, "I don't know."

14,000 Screams Prove Beatles Are Still Loved (Detroit 1966)

 

14,000 Scream Prove Beatles Are Still Loved

By Lawrence Gustin

The Flint Journal (Michigan)

August 14, 1966

    Take 14,000 youngsters, give them flash cameras and bags of jelly beans, then pack them all into Olympia Stadium for two hours while the tension grows. Now, all together, kids, throw those jelly beans, flash those cameras, and scream your lungs out. If you can picture this, you get an idea of what happens at a performance of the Beatles. 

    More than 30,000 fans, most of them young girls with long straight hair, demonstrated Saturday during two shows that they still loved the long-haired Englishman. There was little evidence of any hostility stemming from Beatle John Lennon's well-publicized statement that they were more popular than Jesus. Just to make sure, the master of ceremonies told the crowd that Lennon felt his statement had been taken out of context, and that what he really meant was to say it's a very sad state of affairs that the Beatles seem more popular than Christianity. There were loud screams of approval, and signs were unfurled by the youngsters. They bore such catchy phrases as "I love you, John" and "I love you, Paul." One group displayed a large Union Jack. 

    At least one girl in the audience was well prepared. "I just know I'm going to faint, so I brought along my smelling salt," she said.

     The Beatles have toured this country four times; although their first visit was short, this was only the second visit to Detroit. However, there were about 2000 empty seats for the 2p.m. performance, but there were still about 14,000 young fans present, and a sellout crowd of more than 16,000 for the 7p.m. performance. And when you're selling seats for between $3.50 and $5.50, that's a great house by any standard. 

    Very few persons got close to the young entertainers between their arrival at Olympia at about noon and their departure by bus for Cleveland after the night show. They were closeted in a room at the end of a corridor, which was blocked by barricades, curtains, and at least a regiment of police. Only a few reporters and the young presidents of a few fan clubs were allowed through.

     For two hours during the matinee, the youngsters practiced their screams on lesser-known rock and roll performers. During the interim, the group's press agent Tony Morrow [sic] and manager Brian Epstein provided interviews. Morrow said the Beatles still definitely planned to go to Memphis, which strongly indicated through its mayor that it would appreciate being bypassed. 

    This was a reaction to John's statement about Christ, but the Beatles have apparently been successful in denying that any irreverence was meant. They landed in Boston, put on their first show in Chicago Friday, and were to hit these cities before returning to England on August 29: Cleveland, Washington, Philadelphia, Toronto, Boston, Memphis, Cincinnati, St. Louis, New York, Seattle, Los Angeles, and San Francisco. 

    The police suddenly formed a line to the stage, and Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr ran to the stage. There was bedlam as the stadium lighted up in a burst of flash bulbs, giving the flickering impression of a silent movie. Jelly beans, hair brushes, photographs, dolls, and even records bounced onto the stage and onto the heads of police and photographers.  The four could be heard if you were within a few feet of the stage, but most of the youngsters could hear little but screams.

     For 30 minutes, the Beatles sang, smiled, sweated, wiggled their heads, and fancy stepped around the jelly beans. Then Paul announced that the next number would be their last, and this was greeted by a new shock wave of screams. The police were packed tightly around the stage as the Beatles let loose with "Long Tall Sally." It seemed that the show would end without a major incident, but not quite. Suddenly, a young blonde girl in orange slacks and sweater bounded over the wall, flashed between the startled police and made a dive at Ringo on the drummer's platform. She almost made it, but crashed into the amphitheater several feet from the drummer and went sprawling. She was hauled away fighting and screaming by four officers and taken outside. 

    A group of 20 Cleveland teenagers who won a trip to see the Beatles at each of their stops on the U.S. tour said the Detroit crowd was wilder than the Chicago crowd. One girl dislocated a knee crawling over a railing. There were 10 cases of hysteria. A girl passed out. Another passed out twice. A doctor said it was quieter than in 1964 when 45 girls fainted. Then there was this memory of a jaded veteran photographer who had griped earlier about the long wait. "They're good. They're really good," he shouted to anyone who would listen after the show. "I really like them."

13,000 Beatles Fans Scream Adulation (1966)

 

13,000 Beatles Fans Scream Adulation to Prophets of Din

By Thomas Willis

Chicago Tribune

August 13, 1966

    "Prepare yourselves", said the bass voice behind us, and there in the flesh were the prophets of den, something like 13,000 treble voices sliced the echoing International Amphitheater yesterday afternoon with a knifing scream, which instantly passed the aureole threshold of pain.

     Flash bulbs from 1,000 cameras stabbed the dark hall with continuous lightning. Paul, John, and George half-ran down the curtained stairs at the rear of the small stage, crowded with the giant speaker cabinets and winking electronic gear of a 1500-watt amplifying system. Ringo clambered to the drummer's throne at the rear. The Beatles had arrived.

     The infernal shriek continued practically unabated for the 27 minutes allotted to the ensemble, swirling in the ear and setting off those internal harmonic rings, which last and last. Now and then the nerves rebelled and reduced it all to a jumble of wind, letting it whistle by. The amplifiers contributed a harmony or two, which could be recognized "Yesterday,"  "Paperback Writer," "Rock and Roll Music", in a voice which could be identified with the lips of the performers on stage. 

    This was all the vast majority of participants and the tribal rite required. Tributes, cigarette butts, paper balls, popcorn bags, and possibly a jelly bean or two landed on the stage with one narrow miss on a Beatle's head; favored with a notice, young admirers in the front rows sobbed their gratitude. Farther back in the audience, the merest wave in any direction set off renewed waves of adulation. Affected girls bobbed up like popping corn, only to be motioned to their seats by one of the 200 Andy Frain ushers holding flashlights.

     The quartet, smartly dressed in green, went on with the show even when the amplifier, overloaded with screams, gave out, leaving Ringo Starr's drum solo practically unaccompanied. John Lennon flashed his cheesecake smile at a photographer and tried a Hindu neck trick or two. Paul McCartney said it was "good to be back" and "thank you" to everyone. George Harrison spent much of the time getting his guitar, at least, turned on. 

    The rest of the afternoon was given over to the Remains, who worked hard keeping things moving. The Ronettes, three girls who must sing better than their amateurish presence indicates. Bobby Hebb, a razzle dazzle imitation of Sammy Davis Jr., and the Cyrcles, a pleasant boyish quartet who are not above singing four-part harmony.

     In the audience was Seiji Ozawa, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra summer conductor at Ravinia. It is just possible his ears may stop ringing before tonight's Van Cliburn reception. 

    In this observer's opinion, the Beatles have made notable contributions to folk poetry with their gentle, psychologically valid lyrics and their adventurous use of instruments that place them in a different league from the rest of a gimmick-ridden industry. As a gesture of thanks, perhaps attendance at a concert is in order. Once, though, is enough. 

    The Frain ushers were assisted by 105 policemen under the direction of Captain Leo Powers of Area Three and 200 firemen under the direction of Division Marshal Francis Murphy. Looking over the crowd of neatly dressed, well-behaved youngsters before the concert, it was hard to see the necessity for such precautions. After the banshee yell began, we understood.

     Gross take for the two concerts was reported at $136,000. The Beatles will leave early today for Detroit. Next stop on their 18-day tour, which includes Cleveland, Washington, Philadelphia, Toronto, Boston, Memphis, Cincinnati, St. Louis, New York, Seattle, and Los Angeles, winding up in San Francisco on August 29.

It's George and Ringo and 'Yesterday" Again...Almost (1971)

 It's George and Ringo and 'Yesterday' Again...Almost

By Bob Micklin

Newsday

August 2, 1971

    The right answer to why 20,000 of us jammed Madison Square Garden last night, and another 20,000 crowded the Garden yesterday afternoon, would be that we all really cared about what's happening to 7,000,000 refugees of a cruel civil war between East and West Pakistan. 

    The real answer is that most of us came to see half of what used to be the supergroup of all rock supergroups, the Beatles.  George Harrison and Ringo Starr performing together on a concert stage for the first time in six years. A backup band of super players such as high-priced talent as Eric Clapton on guitar, Leon Russell on piano and electric bass, Billy Presson on organ, Klaus Voormann and Jesse Davis on guitars, Jim Keltner on drums, and oh, those extra added attractions: Ravi Shankar and his classical Indian raga music as the opening act, and Dylan, Bob Dylan, the guest star of all guest stars, walked on stage about two thirds of the way through the evening, clutching his acoustic guitar, his harmonica strapped to his chest, joining with Harrison, Starr, and Russell, what had to be one of the great impromptu quartets in the history of rock concerts.

     Yes, that's why we were there. We knew that both concerts were charity events, fundraising sessions for those war victims. None of the musicians got a penny for his work. And after Shankar and his quartet of Indian virtuosos finished their opening set, grim movies of the plight of the refugees were flashed on two large screens over the stage. Yet few of us seemed to notice. We were too eager, too restless. We wanted to see those Beatles. Besides, we had done our part. The tickets were bought, and 40,000 people at two concerts meant at least $300,000 worth of aid for those tragic people whose images flickered on the movie screens.

     We were ready to be pleased. We expected one of the heaviest musical events we'd ever seen. We were not disappointed. It took us a while to relate to Shankar's hypnotic music, but Ravi told us at the onset that he expected that. "We are making no political statements," he told us. "We are artists." Shankar is a Bengali, and the Bengalis are getting the worst of it in the war. His fierce, terribly intricate playing revealed some of his feelings about that situation, and before he was through, his artistry had moved us, but Ravi knew what we really wanted. He finished his set in little more than a half hour and told us that he realized we were waiting to meet the Beatles. 

    They came out quickly: George in a white suit and orange shirt, carrying a white guitar; Ringo heavily bearded and dressed in all black; Clapton in faded denim, the rest of the band in casual attire. In addition to the featured side men, a band of seven horns and saxophones were on one side of the stage, a seven-voiced chorus on the other, a few guitar noodlings, and they were all into "Wah-Wah", one of Harrison's tough bluesy numbers from his hit solo album of last year, then into "My Sweet Lord", with Harrison on vocals and Clapton's whining guitar doing the obligato. We were enraptured. "Look at them", we said, and look at us listening to them. It's too much. We loved it, and when Billy Preston took the spotlight, we loved him too.

     But then there was Ringo. We knew from just a few bars of intro that he was going to do his hit song, "It Don't Come Easy." We cheered for Ringo sitting up there behind the band and pounding away on the drums in his simple Beatles style. We cheered his flat, unpretentious voice. It suddenly occurred to one spectator that we had really come to cheer, not to listen.

     Leon Russell. We were ready for him too. His sinister mustache, his impassive face, his long, long blondish hair. Leon Russell jumped into the Rolling Stones' " Jumping Jack Flash", blasting off with raw screams and taking us all with him on the excitement trip we had expected all the time. George returned us to the center. However, one of the nicest things about last night's concert was watching George Harrison. No matter who was playing, who was singing, George was the leader. 

    He followed Russell with a fine version of "Here Comes the Sun", played and sung quietly but with a gentle lyricism that was lovely. Scarcely missing a beat, he brought on Bob Dylan, and while the other musicians and singers left the stage, Harrison and Russell picked up guitars, and Ringo joined them with a tambourine, a magic moment. Dylan at the microphone, running down his classic songs. "A Hard Day's Rain Gonna Fall", "Blowin' in the Wind," "Mister Tambourine Man", "Just Like a Woman." While Harrison, Starr, and Russell provided the accompaniment. Dylan raised a clenched fist to all of us as we cheered him while he left the stage.

    The finale George back in the smoky blue-white spotlight to sing "Something", surely one of the greatest of Harrison songs. Oh how we cheered him as he and the others left the stage, to which they soon returned to give us a stomping version of "Bangladesh", a new Harrison song honoring the ambition of East Pakistan to establish a new nation, but that's not why we cheered. We cheered for the Beatles, or at least half of them, and for a beautiful concert. And then we filed out of Madison Square Garden into a sticky, humid New York City night, and we were happy.

Harrison and Friends Pack 'Em In (1971)

 Harrison and Friends Pack 'Em In

By Harry Davidson

Daily World

August 5, 1971

When it was originally announced that George Harrison would appear at Madison Square Garden on August 1, I knew I would have to find some way to be there. When the Beatles first burst upon the musical horizon in the mid 1960s, I was too young to be more than vaguely aware of their existence. Later, I became a part of the generation of youth which followed them. The Beatles led us into new, hitherto unexplored mediums of expression. That process found its natural extension in the George Harrison and Friends benefit for the refugees and victims of strife in Bangladesh, better known as East Pakistan. 

    10 hours before the tickets were to go, over 5000 young men and women were massed around the walls of the monolithic Garden. Under the circumstances, Garden officials wisely released the tickets for sale at midnight rather than at 10 a.m. the next morning. Almost 40,000 seats were grabbed up in the following several hours. 

    When Harrison walked on stage, the audience rose as if in honor of the era for which Harrison himself was in part responsible, which had catalyzed a new culture and lifestyle, and which had passed in many senses with the passing of the Beatles as a group. Perhaps the ovation would have been even greater if not for the act which preceded it. Ravi Shankar, the sitar player and motive force behind the benefit for his own countrymen, entranced the unusually respectful crowd with his music to open the concert. His recital, as he called it, was intended to make the audience aware of the pain, aspirations, hope, and joy of his people. If he was not entirely successful, my unaccustomed ear was often unable to appreciate the various subtleties of his craft, then the film clips portraying the suffering in East Pakistan more than compensated.

     Following the films, Harrison opened the show with "Wah Wah", in my opinion, the best cut on his million-seller three-record album. To my surprise, the live performance outdid the recording. On the other hand, it may have been because Harrison had brought together one of the most impressive combinations of artists since Woodstock, and even at Woodstock, the groups played separately, not at the benefit. Harrison's friends included Ringo Starr, former Beatles drummer; Billy Preston, the redoubtable keyboard man; Eric Clapton of Cream, lead guitar fame; Leon Russell, superstar pianist and mentor of Joe Cocker; Klaus Voormann, master European bass player; Badfinger, one of Apple Records' early group discoveries, as well as a host of others. 

    The ensemble then played Stars' hit "It Don't Come Easy", which was greeted with enthusiasm equal to, if not surpassing, the greeting to Harrison's music. Preston also did a piece, as did Clapton, and Russell overwhelmed the audience with his rendition of the Rolling Stones' "Jumping Jack Flash." Finally, Bob Dylan played the old ballads and songs. It was his first live performance in two years. 

    The concert ended with Harrison's recent smash hit single entitled "Bangladesh." One has to have known and loved the Beatles and everything that went with them, all the rumors, all the fads, and all the mania, to realize what 20,000 cheering fans felt at that show. One can analyze Harrison to death, his involvement with Eastern culture, his religiosity and spiritualism, or his music. But what one will conclude then just won't come close to what comes from living the music of the man, the surrounding myths and idealizations notwithstanding. 

    15 minutes after the benefit ended, we still stood clapping and cheering. The first-hand close-ups and official histories have yet to be written. The magazine and newspaper treatises have yet to see print. The commercial recording and the next album have about a week before they are to be released, and the premiere performance of the screen version has yet even to be scheduled. I only hope that the mountains of discussion, which the George Harrison and Friends benefit richly deserves, will better describe the occasion than I have. I think I got too involved.

One to One Concert Review (1972)

 

No Name Article

Written by Barbara Clark

With a Little Help From My Friends

December 1972

Note from Char: Here is a story written by Barbara Clark about us seeing John's concert at Madison Square Garden this past August. As stated before, the concerts were done as a benefit for Willowbrook Children's Hospital in New York. We all had a terrific time at the show, and since John is Barb's favorite, you can imagine what she was going through. Here's the story:

     On August 30, Marie, Ann, and I met Char and Casey at Madison Square Garden in NYC, looking forward very nervously to seeing John in his two concerts at the Garden. To say we were excited would be an understatement. It was still early, and the first concert was to start at 2 o'clock, so we stopped at a deli, bought some nuts, got something to eat, and rode off to John's to maybe get a glimpse of John leaving. Nothing was going on at the house, so we left at 1 o'clock. There was already a crowd there, and people were selling John T-shirts and pictures of John and Yoko, saying "One to One" and "Willowbrook."

     We split up at 1L30 and Marie, Ann, and I found our seats. When the lights went out, we moved down to other seats, much better than ours, to the side of the stage. Everyone was moving down. After we got our new seats, to which Geraldo Rivera said, "That's all right, it's a democratic society, you can move down. I love you all." He was the emcee of the concerts. He's a newsman for ABC TV, who started the One to One concerts going soon after Marie suggested it to him in April.

     Well, after a long delay (almost an hour and a half) Sha Na Na came on. They're really a great group. They do old '50s songs, including "Get a Job", "Whole Lot of Shaking", "Tell Laura I Love Her", etc. Well, then after another very long delay came Stevie Wonder, dressed in a long brown robe, playing piano and drums. He was great too. Only I think it would have been better if he did some of his more popular songs instead of the long instrumental ones. Then, after the longest delay, Geraldo came on and said, "And here's one of our favorite groups from the streets of New York, because I would be with them if I could sing--- the Elephant's Memory Band!" Everyone cheered and screamed, expecting to see John up there, but when the lights went on, all that was up there was the band, but no John. Then we saw May Pang  (John's secretary) go down the steps, then John kneeling down by the steps. The lights went out, then Geraldo said "John and Yoko!" The lights were still out when the record "Power to the People" started playing. Everyone stood up and yelled, then the lights went on, and we saw John in the same state on the stage singing "New York City."

     John looked fantastic as usual. He wore black-and-white cowboy boots, his green jacket (the one with the stripes on his arms), round blue sunglasses, and green trousers. He looked great, but a bit nervous. In singing "New York City", he said the words instead of singing them, but toward the end he was starting to sing it and bouncing on the stage, really having fun.

     He had three guitars on stage, and he kept changing them. Once when he put on his black and white guitar, he jumped up, and the guitar strap fell off, the guitar dropped, but John caught it as it was falling, but not acting like the old John, he just fixed it. He didn't joke around like I expected him to do. 

    He really was nervous at the day show. The other songs he did were "Instant Karma", "Mother", "Imagine", "It's So Hard " among others. During Yoko's song, "Open Your Box" (which is a naughty, suggestive song), he kept spreading his legs apart, and once even pulled down his zipper, laughing and all. The last song he did was "Hound Dog", the audience went wild as John started imitating Elvis. It was very heavy. John drank about two cans of Miller beer during the show. After "Hound Dog", he ran off the stage, leaving the Elephant's Memory Band up there. Everyone was clapping and yelling "more" when Geraldo came back, saying they weren't coming back, but still everyone yelled for more.  He said the electricity was costing more every second, and it was all coming out of the Willowbrook Fund. So everyone calmed down at this, and eventually people started leaving. 

    There were just as many delays at the night show, but I think John was even better.  Roberta Flack was at the night show, and John didn't come on until 12 midnight. When he did, everyone stood up and yelled. Me, Marie, Ann, and Char were in the orchestra now, close to the stage, but with all the people standing up, it was hard to see. So, Marie and I stood on our chairs, very desperate for a chance to see John. We were the only ones on chairs, and he looked in our direction, but I don't know if he could recognize us from before. He was too stoned, anyway, maybe. 

    He was more relaxed now, really having a great time. During "Come Together", he laid on this big act, waving his hands, pointing his finger, acting and talking like a homo, the whole bit. During "Mother", he got really emotional and said, "A lot of people think the song is about my parents, but it's not. It's about 99% of the parents alive or half dead." When he got to "Father", he sang, "I needed you so bad." It sounded as if he was crying. It was very emotional. 

    In "Sisters, oh Sisters", Yoko said, "Now's our chance to change the world," in a typical Yoko accent.  Most of her songs, she tried to sing, but when she found it wasn't working too well, she resorted to just screaming. Sometimes during the concert, people passed around tambourines, which advertised restaurants in New York. At the end, they did "Hound Dog" again, and then "Give Peace a Chance", which all the performers joined in on stage, including Melanie, David Peel, Stevie Wonder, and Geraldo.

     After the show, John showed up at the party around 3 am (Barbara took off for the party quickly after John left the stage.)  Bob Dylan, David Peel, the whole John crowd was there. John went into a private section of the bar (the Tavern on the Green at 67th and Central Park West in the city). Vidal Sassoon also showed up (with dirty hair), and of course, all the acts in the show. The crowd inside the bar, which served lasagna, rice, Coke, and wine, finally thinned out, and John left the scene around 4:30am.

 What a day and night!

Wings Concert Soars -- Surpass Expectations (Los Angeles 1976)

 Wings Concert Soars - Surpass Expectations

By Matt Aragorn Pavin

Ventura County Star

June 26, 1976

    Mix an excited audience with a legendary artist, and the stage is set for a real concert event. Add a performance that surpasses all expectations, and the result is a night to remember. Such was the case Tuesday evening at the Fabulous Forum. It was the middle of a three-day Los Angeles engagement. It was the next-to-last stop on the most publicized tour since the Who's cross-country trek in 1973. It was one of the debut American appearances by the world's most popular group (Sorry, Elton): Wings. It was a legendary bassist, pianist, and guitarist named Paul McCartney, and it was good. 

    The aura of nervous anticipation surrounding the Forum was a sure indication that something special was brewing. 20,000 eager faces, mostly young, many older, shared this feeling as the house lights dimmed. The energy level inside the arena was a palpable buzz. It was exciting and breathtaking. The opening strains of "Venus and Mars/ Rock Show" were greeted by the second most tumultuous response this reporter has ever heard, the loudest occurring two and a half hours later, after Wings' finale, which was "Band on the Run."

     In between were two other displays of aesthetic approval, one following a horn-punctuated version of "Lady Madonna," the first of five Beatles selections, two songs later, a stunning rendition of "Live and Let Die" through even more applause, the dynamic James Bond theme was accentuated by a pair of incredible visual effects. Just as each of the tune's intense segments began, bright smoke bombs were triggered. For the remainder of these passages, an emerald green laser light was fired from the stage towards the far wall, where its computerized patterns danced like flames. A laser was also used during "Hi, Hi, Hi", similar to the one Genesis introduced at the Starlight Amphitheater on May 1.

     Other visual aids were also put to magnificent use. A small square-screen flash slides in a crushed crescent moon atop a candle for "Maybe I'm Amazed", an antique chair for "Picasso's Last Words", and three comic book characters for "Magneto and Titanium Man". A larger rectangular screen showed a short film during "Band on the Run". Additionally, all the platforms supporting Wings' equipment were under cabaret-type lights. The entire lighting system created a striking atmosphere. 

    Then again, the mere presence of Paul McCartney was striking. The ex-Beatle was in firm command from the outset. Although 10 years absent from American Halls, Paul showed no signs of either rustiness or awkwardness. McCartney's singing was beautiful, with the lone exception of "My Love," his voice possessed the same magic that helped launch Beatlemania over 13 years ago. Not surprisingly, Paul's vocal appeal was the strongest on "Yesterday". Note perfect is an inadequate description of his rendition, as the crowd was moved and mesmerized by his emotionally powerful lyrics.

     But McCartney was not alone. A four-piece brass section spiced up approximately half of the set's 29 songs.  Linda McCartney, dressed in black, provided excellent vocal harmonies, although her keyboard playing was rather lame. Jimmy McCulloch Wing's underrated lead guitarist consistently offered tasty solos as steady chord work. Drummer Joe English performed with sturdy dependency. 

    Yet the star of the sidemen was Denny Laine, one of the original Moody Blues. His ample instrumental talents included stints on guitar, bass, and various keyboards. Moreover, he handled the vocal chores on "Spirits of Ancient Egypt", the new "Time to Hide," and the unexpected, delightful "Go Now" with a fluid, slightly bluesy brilliance. Another unexpected number was Simon and Garfunkel's "Richard Cory"; the other three Beatles songs were "The Long and Winding Road," "I've Just Seen a Face," and "Blackbird."

     17 selections, however, were culled from Wing's last three albums. Those not mentioned above were "Jet", "Bluebird", and "Let Me Roll It" from Band on the Run. "You Gave Me the Answer", "Letting Go," "Medicine Jar", " Call Me Back Again ", and " Listen to What the Man Said" from Venus and Mars.  And "Let 'Em In," "Beware My Love," and "Silly Love Songs" from Wings at the Speed of Sound.

    For those of you who are counting, the 29th tune was the second encore, an unreleased rocker with a chorus of something like "Sorry, we've got to go."

     The overall sound production was as polished as the lights. Nevertheless, the horns and McCulloch's guitar improvisations added an element of spontaneity. Correspondingly, most of the songs had a rockier feel in concert than on the albums, yet melodies were never sacrificed, and the lyrics were almost always intelligible. My expectations, however, were surpassed easily. There is nothing so entertaining as a legend at his peak.

McCartney and Wings Lay Egg (Los Angeles, 1976)

 In the articles I  have posted on the Wings Over America tour, the critics have been very positive.  Well -- let's look at one that isn't just for a change.   

McCartney and Wings Lay Egg

Associated Press

June 23, 1976

    It was going to be a genuine big event. It just had to be. Paul McCartney was coming to the rock music capital to perform for the first time in a decade. The Wings tour had been drawing critical praise across the country. Paul's picture was on the cover of Time, People, Rolling Stone.  Wings at the Speed of Sound was number one on the album sales charts, and "Silly Love Songs" was number one among singles, but the big event turned out to be a big dud. 

    The ex-Beatles' new band simply failed to deliver Monday night as it opened a three-night stand at the Inglewood Forum that will conclude its 21-city tour of the United States. The audience was clearly primed and ready to enjoy the show. Just the appearance of Ringo Starr in the stands shortly before the band hit the stage brought the crowd to its feet, cheering. Surprisingly, little else did.

     Wing's performance of "Live and Let Die", a hit single of a few years back, unleashed a wild response, but only because it featured three separate blinding explosions of smoke bombs and some trippy laser light effects. Much of the rest of their performance was boring, often painfully so, because of a blaring, poorly mixed sound system. Some songs came across merely as an excruciating din.

     The main problem, however, was that Wings had little to offer. Although the musicianship on the 30 songs performed during the two-hour and 15-minute concert was technically sound, it lacked the individual distinction or inspiration to make it exciting, and McCartney, an appealing singer and generally good songwriter, lacked the dynamic stage personality to overcome the band's musical shortcomings. He was bouncy and silly and talkative, but he didn't have the riveting quality of, say, David Bowie or Mick Jagger. 

    Still, McCartney did manage to infuse a few moments of magic into an otherwise disappointing evening. Significantly, he did it alone. McCartney sat on stage by himself and sang two Beatles tunes, "Blackbird" and "Yesterday", accompanied by his acoustic guitar. His voice was sweet and clear, and both songs were beautiful. He got a standing ovation after the second one. 

    Much to the audience's delight, there were three other Beatles songs in the show: "Lady Madonna", "I've Just Seen a Face", and "Baby, I'm Amazed" [sic]. Happily, the lackluster concert ended on an exciting note, though again on a non-musical note. As the band finished its second encore, Ringo appeared on stage with a bundle of flowers. He handed it to one of the guitarists, waved to the crowd, and then he and McCartney embraced. The two of them walked off stage together, Ringo carrying his former partner's guitar

Wings Fly High at Forum (Los Angeles 1976)

 

Wings Fly High At Forum 

By Denise Kusel

The Independent

June 23, 1976

    A mini Beetle reunion with one part Paul McCartney and one part Ringo Starr put a tipsy nightcap on the Wings Over America concert at the Inglewood Forum Monday night. The house lights were up by the time the two teamed up in a surprise showing following two encores from Wings. It took the audience a full minute to realize what was happening. 

    The bearded Ringo seemed in good form, and speculation soon spread that he was there to test the waters for a full Beatles reunion. When he entered the Forum before the show, the former Beatles drummer received a standing ovation. 

    The crowd was still standing when a flying wedge of muscle men paved the way for Elton John with Yoko Ono in tow. If Yoko's husband, John Lennon, was there, or the mystical George Harrison, they kept a low profile during the concert. 

    McCartney and Wings cooked up a gourmet meal of rock and roll. With his famous eyebrows arched in mock surprise and the little-boy innocence, Paul was greeted by a full-throated roar from 16,000 fans on hand to witness his long-awaited return to the Southland concert stage.

     The concert was power-paced from the quick beginnings of  "Venus and Mars" "Rock Show" and the infectious "Jets" [sic] in a 123 order and "Band on the Run" as the clincher two hours later.

     McCartney, in black satin pants and a black shirt with sequins on the shoulders and a flashy pink scarf carelessly hanging around his neck, dug in with a solid bass line.  Former Moody Blues man Denny Laine, playing a double-necked guitar, fashioned an effective blues progression and worked lead vocals on "Spirits of Ancient Egypt." McCartney seemed content to stand in the background and out of the multicolored lights that made the stage. Guitarist Jimmy McCulloch jumped in with a powerful "Medicine Jar", which he co-authored with McCartney [sic]. Laine was switch-hitting at piano and driving Joe English whipped the drums with attack frenzy. Linda McCartney huddled behind a bank of mellotrons and moogs and organs, her vocal harmonics came off flat, and her expertise at the keyboards was a little more than pretty fluff. 

    Beatle tunes "Lady Madonna" and "Yesterday" received the predictable amount of applause as standard favorites, but it was clearly the new material that the crowd gobbled up. McCartney's shrewd use of rhythmic changes and internal rhyme schemes put punch and soft pop stuff like "Silly Love Songs" and "Listen to What the Man Said." The driving beat of "Magneto and Titanium Man" shows Wings to be a cohesive outfit. The addition of a horn section was effective, but at times overpowering.

     McCartney was not dependent on the Beatles' aura that hangs above his head. He's outgrown it and into a different musical space, but the old brand of frantic musical history is still exciting. Capitol Records is releasing Beatles disc singles and new albums to coincide with the Wings tour. A young man sitting behind me at the concert remarked that "This is better than going to a high school reunion!"

 "Yesterday" brought a standing ovation, but so did the strobe-light and flash-power theatrics that accompanied "Live and Let Die." The concert was one of the best of the season, and without Ringo's guest shot, Wings Over America still soared happily. Outside, scalpers were hawking $9.50 tickets for $50 and getting it.

Wings Covers America (San Diego 1976)

 

Wings Cover America

By Jim Guthrie

Daily-Times Advocate

June 27, 1976

    There he was all alone on the stage singing "Yesterday", and there I was in the last row with 14,000 people between us, trying to get the binoculars away from my wife. I'd had the binoculars when he started the song; they had basically been in my possession from the beginning of Paul McCartney's concert at the San Diego Sports Arena, which isn't exactly true. It wasn't just Paul McCartney's concert, it was one stop in the Wings Over America tour, and it was significant.

     The group was addressed in the billing, which indicated a certain symbolism and understanding by one of pop music's most eminent superstars of the idioms' integral relationship between the individual and those around him. McCartney's name alone would have been enough to guarantee the tour's success, but by itself it wouldn't have reflected what, in purely musical terms, the tour was all about. Where the man was now musically.

     There's a place in pop music for the solo performer, and time could be taken here to list a dozen or so names, any one of which, when placed upon a marquee, would be enough to sell out any auditorium in the country as fast as Wings sold out the Sports Arena. But after a while, every new Carole King or John Denver song sounds too much like the old ones, etc. etc.

     The reigning solo performer at present is Elton John, but he really isn't a soloist in a variety of senses. His music needs Bernie Taupin's lyrics, and that just isn't old Elton up there in those funny glasses, banging away at the piano. There are some very talented musicians backing him up.

     To be continually innovative and appealing, pop music requires an interplay of ideas. It has to be a cooperative effort to be truly great. Sure, Elvis was the single most important influence in pop music, but he was a style, an instrument through which the music of others flowed. He needed those others, just as they certainly needed him. And a guy named Dylan has been pretty important in pop music, too. But if he hadn't augmented himself with The Band, it's doubtful he could have gained superstar status as a performer. 

    The most important group in pop music has been the Beatles, but its members were human, and musically the Beatles broke up because John, Paul, George, and Ringo wanted to say their own musical things. They wanted to become Lennon, McCartney, Harrison, and Starr on their own terms, and they did for a couple of albums, a couple of years, but then what they were saying on their own wasn't all that important, or even all that entertaining. It became significant for its curiosity value, but tended to be disappointing musically. 

    McCartney, however, relearned the importance of interplay and cooperative effort, and so here it was six years after the breakup, and here was Paul, basically the lead singer in a new group, filling hall after hall, night after night, with both a single and an album number one on the charts. Of course, McCartney is more than a lead singer, and that is why I was trying to get the binoculars back. Through them, I had followed the trajectory of frisbees before the lights went out, and the four horn players mounted the stage in their glow-in-the-dark Wings T-shirts, followed by the five members of Wings themselves, illuminated by that shaft of shocking red spotlight. 

    I'd inspected the crowd carefully, noting a large part of it was made up of people as old as I was, and thus as old as McCartney. I searched in vain for braless teeny boppers boogying carefree in the aisles. While there was a younger element in attendance, I spied them looking curiously at my age group through the doorway of the crowded bar in the lobby, as we fortified ourselves with beer, scotch, and brandy before climbing to our seats. a burly guard informed us we were required to finish our drinks at the bar. We weren't allowed to take them out. Obviously, those kids staring in at us with those funny cigarettes in their hands needed to be protected from the likes of us.

     I had been afraid of having to deal with a bunch of pimply-faced weirdos trying to steal my seat. I had even prepared a speech about the fact that I had more of a right than they had to be there, because in part McCartney was, after all, of my generation, and why didn't they buzz off and come back when Pink Floyd was in town?

     But there wasn't any hassle. Everybody got along just fine, and the only tension between the generations occurred when a pre-teenage girl in the row in front of me looked at me funny while I tapped my feet during "Lady Madonna". We wound up smiling at each other, and later I noticed we were both clapping in time to "Band on the Run."

     But now he was singing "Yesterday", perhaps the watershed song in pop music. The song that made the kind of music that produced it respectable and listened to by all segments of the public. After "Yesterday", pop music became a sociological influence, not just a category. And although he had more to do with "Yesterday" than anyone else, the song isn't known as just a McCartney song; it's a Beatles song, and I'm sure he wouldn't have it any other way. 

    Still, one night stands out in my memory when a musician friend of mine was playing "Yesterday"on his flute. He stopped and said, "You know, McCartney is a musical genius," and then he went back to proving it, so I regretted that I had given the binoculars to my wife. I guess I wanted to be able to say what she did when he finished the song. "I've always wanted to see him sing that, and now I can say that I have." But at least I could hear him in the 18th row of section 20 C, and I was glad I was there. 

    However, "Yesterday" wasn't the high point of the concert.  Hearing it was nice enough, but somehow only in a nostalgic way. What made the concert memorable was the new McCartney sound. The sound of five musicians playing together as Wings.

     Wings is still developing as a group, and it may never reach the Beatles' status or preeminence. Probably no group ever will, but I can't wait for its next tour. By that time, I'm sure the Sports Arena won't be nearly big enough to hold all the people of all ages waiting. Wings will be closer to getting it all together then, and the people in the back row will need higher powered binoculars.

McCartney Has Renewed Glow in the Limelight (San Francisco 1976)

 

McCartney Has Renewed Glow in the Limelight

By Steve Connell

The Sacramento Union

June 15, 1976

    The ex-Beatle Paul McCartney is no longer the boyish mop-top British idol of the 1960s, but thanks to his much-celebrated Wings Over America tour, he's once again in the limelight and very much alive and well. 

    He proved all that, plus much, much more here Sunday and Monday nights in the cavernous Cow Palace. Both shows were sold out far in advance, and Sunday's was like nothing I have ever seen. Incredible might not even be enough of a superlative to describe the affair. Even before the concert, the aura of anticipation hanging over the ticket holders and those who were frantically looking for someone with extra tickets for sale was in evidence.

     Some three hours before the show time, they were already lined up to the back of the huge parking lot, waiting and waiting in hopes of getting some kind of decent seat for the festival seat show. The air was buzzing with electricity, and when it finally got going, when Paul made his first triumphant rise to the stage, where he hadn't set foot in nearly 10 years, a roar of approval, so deafening I could hardly stand it, ripped through the hall like a tidal wave. Cameras were flashing in the darkness at a rapid-fire pace, like a million strobe lights blinking at once. I think every rock critic in California must have been there, and of course, there were people from everywhere and numbering nearly 20,000. 

    I talked to one fellow who flew out from Georgia just for the show; another drove from Seattle. I'm sure there were countless others who traveled just as far, and I doubt it was any of the throng walking away disappointed. 

    McCartney is indeed professional in every sense of the word. While I hadn't previously been too impressed with his band, Wings proved to be extremely talented. Paul's wife Linda plays keyboards and sings with Denny Laine and Jimmy McCulloch on guitars, Joe English on drums, and a superb horn section of four. And they blend nicely. They perhaps use too much volume, but the Cow Palace has never been known for good acoustics. 

    They started with newer Wings material, tunes off the Venus and Mars, and Wings at the Speed of Sound LP, plus tunes like "Maybe I'm Amazed" from Paul's first solo album. But when the evening wore on a bit, and McCartney and Company moved into a series of old Beatles, it was the crowd that went nearly ecstatic. These were tunes that brought back memories and tugged at the heartstrings, songs like "Lady Madonna", a very moving "Long and Winding Road," I've Just Seen a Face", "Blackbird", and the classic " Yesterday " with Paul soloing on acoustic guitar.

     A very psychedelic "Live and Let Die" with smoke bombs, blinding flash explosions, and flashing lights galore was an overpowering spectacle. In all, McCartney performed for over two hours, 28 tunes, including two rocking out encores (who said he wouldn't give the crowd its money's worth?)

     Throughout it, his distinctive vocals were pleasing and clear. His guitar and piano playing easily adequate. His bass work truly excellent, and he'll display those talents three more times on this tour in San Diego, Tucson, and Los Angeles. My advice to any rock music fan would be if you're going to be in one of those areas and come by any means, wangle a ticket out of somebody to go. It's a show that shouldn't be missed.