EVERYONE’S CUP OF TEA
C O N C E R T R E V I E W Air Canada Centre, Toronto How fortunate we are that the most successful songwriter in pop history is also one of the best. In an age when faceless producers sonically engineer chart-topping songs for one-hit wonders, Paul McCartney has a rare mix of universal accessibility and unmistakable personality.
McCartney has been widely accused of allowing a degree of mediocrity to seep into his oeuvre since the end of his tenure with the Beatles, but the songs he plays over nearly three hours to a worshipfully attentive crowd at the Air Canada Centre are, almost without exception, exceptional.
It’s a testament to McCartney — and to his new quality-control inspector, producer Nigel Godrich — that the material from his new album, Chaos and Creation in the Backyard, holds its own with songs hand-picked from throughout his back catalogue. On disc, Godrich’s expansive production lends the songs a degree of gravitas that de-emphasizes McCartney’s whimsical side; in his hands, even a droll number such as English Tea becomes somewhat stately. Live, McCartney’s amiable folksiness inevitably comes to the fore, as he mimes making a “proper cuppa” and delights in his use of the word “peradventure.”
It’s odd to find oneself at a concert where the ovations seem almost as long as the songs, but brevity is one of McCartney’s virtues, and Beatles gems such as I Will
and For No One each deserve their extended accolades. McCartney comically tacks on two false endings to I Follow the Sun, explaining that the song is “so short, you don’t want it to finish.” Other than this, the inevitable audience-participation marathon Hey Jude and a short jam at the end of The End, McCartney keeps a tight rein on his arrangements, thus enabling him to run through a remarkable 37 songs.
While this wide range of material has been famously covered and reinvented by artists as diverse as Aretha Franklin and the Dead Kennedys, McCartney constrains himself by playing it much as he did on record. Clearly he has been interested in reworking his music, as demonstrated by this year’s Twin Freaks project, a collaboration with DJ Freelance Hellraiser, who opened the show by spinning a short set of McCartney samples crossed with big, funky beats. Perhaps, then, Sir Paul feels that his crowds would be unreceptive to his singing versions of their favourites that would deviate significantly from their cherished memories.
But while his four-piece backing band expertly and enthusiastically recreates well- loved performances, it’s somewhat jarring to hear Paul “Wix” Wickens’ synthesizers attempting to fill in for absent horns and strings. McCartney has spared no expense on a huge lighting rig with 50 retractable screens, as well as flashpots and fireworks, but none of this sparkle can replace a real trumpeter for the solo in Penny Lane or a string section (hell, even just a cellist) to back up Eleanor Rigby. The one number where McCartney welcomes additional musicians is Mull of Kintyre, during which the Peel Regional Police Pipe Band marches on stage in full regalia to flank the musicians. Unfortunately, their presence can’t save the dire, plodding dirge which, tonight, represents the only chink in McCartney’s musical armour.
The concert’s best moments come in McCartney’s solo performances, such as Blackbird and the Blackbird- esque new song Jenny Wren, and in the unabashed rock numbers.
Throughout the concert, McCartney and his bandmates declare their intention to rock, ask the crowd whether we are prepared to rock, and seek to ascertain that, having rocked, we remain eager to continue rocking. A degree of politeness offsets the band’s testosterone until two hours in, when they burst into I’ve Got a Feeling
with a dirty groove, follow it up with a storming version of Back in the U.S.S. R., and end the set with ear-shattering pyrotechnics for a rollicking Live and Let Die.
The concert’s finest moment is perhaps the band’s gloriously noisy encore rendition of Helter Skelter, during which hulking drummer Abe Laboriel Jr., who was earlier striking incongruous rock poses during Eleanor Rigby, erupts in a bruising display of percussive fervour. Some fans seem shellshocked — maybe they’re amazed — but McCartney, 63 years young, grins while he screams.
McCartney is a tad jowly now, but he retains an exuberant youthfulness. His self-deprecating humour offsets the often grandiose nature of the proceedings (including the frantic selfcongratulatory video we’re all forced to sit through before the concert begins). Overall, his voice has worn well — apart from a bit of growling in the low end and some strain in the highest notes, he sounds remarkably similar to how he did in his “cute Beatle” days.
In his urgent new song Fine Line, his best single in ages, McCartney declares, “It’s a fine line between chaos and creation.” A little more inspired chaos wouldn’t hurt, but if McCartney’s creation continues intact, we’ll still be needing him (and our $300 ticket purchases will no doubt still be feeding him) well beyond the time he’s 64.