Tag: riley

Yesterday

I saw the movie Yesterday and was immediately ready to go and see it again. Looking for likeminded local friends who will indulge me in same.

Meanwhile, this came in the mail to continue my Summer of Beatles.

I don’t have time to color right now, but at least I’ve narrowed my first choice down to these three:

I’m pretty sure I know which one I’ll go with and why.

Tiny Tuesday!

A little more George. For Marika, not because I’m obsessed or anything.

Everything off this whole album is Riley. Marika, your words have meant more to me than you could ever imagine. (John Lennon sneaking a song title in! He was Riley’s Beatle, after all. And there’s a Paul McCartney song in the lyrics.)

I’d Have You Anytime

Let me in here, I know I’ve been here
Let me into your heart
Let me know you, let me show you
Let me roll it to you
All I have is yours
All you see is mine
And I’m glad to hold you in my arms
I’d have you anytime
Let me say it, let me play it
Let me lay it on you
Let me know you, let me show you
Let me grow upon you
All I have is yours
All you see is mine
And I’m glad to hold you in my arms
I’d have you anytime
Let me in here, I know I’ve been here
Let me into your heart

George

Before the Paul McCartney concert, if you look at the stage and the brightly colored screens on either side of it–those had a constantly scrolling stream of pictures, often juxtaposed against some amazing groovy artwork, that offered his entire musical career–Beatles, Wings, solo, with personal photos, photos of band members, photos capturing moments in everyone’s histories.

I wish I could have photographed every bit of it and was lucky to catch the ones I did. If you know me, you know my Beatle is George Harrison. Everyone has a definition for them and most fall into the same categories: for me, John was the conscience, Paul was the heart, George was the spirit, and Ringo was the soul. I still stand by my interpretations of what those mean to me.

This was an image of George going up the screen.

I could have watched all of those photographs all night long.

There were a lot of emotional moments for me in the show, but the only other song that made me cry was when Sir Paul did one of George’s. He began with the usual story: He was at George’s house one day, looking at his large collection of ukuleles, and suggested they play one of George’s songs using only the ukulele. So he performed for us the song they did, “Something”–and he was using a ukulele that was a gift to him from George’s collection. When the song reached the guitar solo, the band took over and delivered a fantastic performance.

This is the film that the Beatles made to accompany the song and is a favorite of mine, though the underlying sense is of a band moving forward and away from each other and into their own lives. It wouldn’t be long before the breakup.

…you help me sing my song…

This one is harder than some others to share. Let me get a few photos on here first.

Setting up my remote office.
When I checked into the hotel (I could SEE the venue from the hotel!), the guy at the desk asked what brought me, and I said Paul McCartney. He pointed to a table across the lobby where I could sign up for a shuttle to and from the concert. So convenient. My pickup time was 6:50 Friday night.
My seat was on the floor. Haven’t done that for a long time.
It doesn’t matter why you go, when you’re at a ball park, you eat a hotdog. It’s mandatory.

Background on going to see Paul McCartney. I follow Sir Paul on Instagram and he has been posting photos and stories all along from his Freshen Up tour, and I knew it was coming to the States. And I thought, What if Tom and I try to see him in concert as our anniversary gift to each other?

We considered various dates, but there was always something in the way so that it wouldn’t work out–Arlington, New Orleans, Phoenix, Las Vegas, LA–I was looking at them all, but there were too many scheduling conflicts.

Finally, Tom said, “Look, I don’t care about this as much as you do. It would be a good concert, but it means a lot more to you than it does to me. You go. I’ll stay home and take care of things here.” One way you can stay married for 31 years is to understand and respect the other person and know sometimes you are an anchor, and sometimes you wish them wings.

My original Arlington choice was a good date and an easy drive. I left after transport on Thursday and worked in my hotel room that night and through the day on Friday, went to the concert Friday night, left Saturday to spend a day and night in Corsicana with Lynne (and worked from there, too–bless the Internet and WiFi), and returned to Houston Sunday. I needed time outside my space, outside my head, outside my routine.

So at the concert… I’m literally about as happy as I can be on this planet. I was exactly where I wanted to be when I wanted to be there. It’s a significant date in my life, June 14. On that date in 1992, I said goodbye to our friend Steve when he died because of AIDS. He and I always said, “Will you still need me when I’m sixty-four?”–and the answer was always, “Yes,” though we knew we weren’t really going to get that option.

I knew Steve (who was himself a musician and a conductor) would be delighted that I was at this concert. He wanted the people he loved to LIVE every minute after he was gone.

So I’m living in that moment, relishing every song, reminding myself every few minutes, This performer came into your life when you were seven. You watched him and his band CHANGE THE WORLD. He’s interwoven in your history, just as he is for millions of others…

And then he put down his guitar, went to his piano, and played “Maybe I’m Amazed.” I shocked myself because I started crying. We will always have new and wonderful relationships if we’re open to them, but I never forget that two of Paul McCartney’s most profound loves–part of both his emotional and professional lives–ended when John Lennon was murdered and when Linda McCartney died of cancer. They will always be an empty space on his stage.

Riley played that song for me on piano, too, and he was the empty space in the audience, so I cried. And that’s okay. Steve also once told me, “I’d be so sad if I thought no one would cry for me.” I’ve shed so many tears for both of them. I love them still and always will.

I like this video a person put on YouTube for the song. It celebrates Paul and Linda beautifully in photographs.

Maybe I’m amazed at the way
You’re with me all the time
And maybe I’m afraid of the way
I leave you

Maybe I’m amazed at the way
You help me sing my song
You right me when I’m wrong
Maybe I’m amazed at the way
I really need you

Let me roll it

I’ve mentioned the Wings song “Let Me Roll It” multiple times on Instagram because when I’m in my car, if it comes up on my iTunes, I am compelled to let the world know I’m happy because it’s playing.

The song was on the 1973 album Band on the Run which I played endlessly. I’ve even shared on my blog (when people used to comment on my blog–I love these memories) the personal association of “Let Me Roll It” with my little stuffed dog First.

So anyway, Sir Paul has SUCH a catalog between being a Beatle and a Wing and a solo artist, so I had little expectation of hearing “Let Me Roll It” in concert. But then he strapped on a different guitar, and I thought, We’re about to hear something I THINK I WANT TO HEAR and HE PLAYED MY SONG! I was so happy.

That’s a screen cap from a shitty video when my phone was crapping out on me.

Here’s a photo of the real thing, a custom painted Gibson Les Paul (guitarists commence drooling).

And if you want to hear the original, click below and know that when I hear it, I sing every word at the top of my lungs. Learn from me.

Thank you, Sir Paul. All my loving, I will give to you.