Not bigger than Jesus anymore

In 1967, Paul McCartney was 25 years old and already a legend. A founding member of The Beatles, he and his bandmates had risen f rom Liverpudlian obscurity to global fame so gigantic that McCartney’s partner John Lennon had proclaimed, controversially but with some j ustification, that The Beatles were “more popular than Jesus now.” It was an unprecedented level of fame in the t hen- emerging world of mass popular culture.

But McCartney was already l ooking ahead. He wrote and performed the song “When I’m 64” for the band’s Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album. “When I get older losing my hair/ Many years from now/ Will you still be sending me a valentine/ Birthday greetings bottle of wine?” he sang, before asking, “Will you still need me, will you still feed me/When I’m 64?”

There’s good news for Sir Paul McCartney. He didn’t lose his hair, and remained in high demand until aged 64 and well beyond. But all good things come to an end, and McCartney’s luck ran out a week ago this coming Monday.

McCartney, now 73, had attended the Grammy Awards ceremony in Los Angeles. After the show, the former Beatle, in company with musicians Beck and Taylor Hawkins, attempted to enter a private party being hosted by Tyga, a rap artist many of us heard of for the first time in reports of the ensuing incident. Security at the event, apparently unaware that the gracefully aged gentleman trying to enter the party was one of the most legendary musicians alive, turned away McCartney, Beck and Hawkins. They weren’t on the list. The entire incident was, of course, caught on someone’s smartphone and quickly uploaded to the Internet. A mini- scandal — though one generally treated with appropriate good humour — soon followed.

Let’s not pretend that this is earth-shattering news. There are real problems in the world today — point fully acknowledged. But there is still something worth noting in the case of McCartney and the oblivious bouncer. Even for a Beatle, fame is fleeting.

Most of us will never achieve nearly the fame and wealth of McCartney and other musicians of similar calibre. But some life lessons are universal. People taking themselves, their self- images and their concerns too seriously is, it hardly needs to be said, a universal constant. This has only been amplified in the era of smartphones with HD cameras and global connectivity, loaded with all manner of social media apps. It has never been easier to share more of ourselves with an everwider audience. Photos of our meals, our pets, our children, our vacations, assiduously posted on carefully cultivated Facebook pages, along with regularly updated selfies, an endless flood of videos and every stray thought that can be captured in a few keystrokes — welcome to the early 21st century, where we’re all stars in our own reality show and the hero of our own life story.

This modern amping up of self- regard reflects a core feature of human nature. The narcissism of our time may one day fall out of vogue, but in the meantime, we should all hope for the odd bouncer moment. It is healthy, now and then, to be reminded of our limits, the indifference of the world at large and the plain fact that there will always people who simply won’t give a damn how accomplished and admirable you f eel yourself to be.

As f or McCartney, he seems to have come through the or deal no worse for wear. Video of the incident shows him jokingly inquiring, “How VIP do we gotta get?” and musing that he needs some new hit songs. It was an appropriate response to a mild but probably healthy snub — and in its own small way, a lesson in grace and humility for us all.

PAUL McCARTNEY’S SNUB OFFERS A LESSON IN GRACE AND HUMILITY FOR

US ALL.