Paul McCartney in the Holy Land

Last week I joined 45,000 Israelis and went to hear Paul McCartney play at Yarkon Park. I admit that initially, I balked at the 500 shekel ticket but eventually I was convinced that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity - and it was.

The ticket bought a place on the grass, first come, first served. Friends managed to get in as soon as they opened, around 5:30, and stake out our territory fairly close to the stage. Until seven we lounged leisurely on the grass, eating and drinking. I went for a walk to find a few of the many friends I knew were in attendence, which would not have been possible without a cellphone - go find someone you know in a crowd of 45,000 (in fact, it was difficult to get people on the phone, probably because of the intense call load in the immediate area where everyone was looking for someone else). When I made my way back to my friends around 7:15 most people were no longer sitting on the grass, but standing up, and when I finally spotted them it was all I could do to make my way through the tangle of bodies to rejoin them. There was literally no empty space on the ground to put my feet but somehow I made it.

As the eight o'clock starting time drew closer, more and more people pushed their way towards the stage. There was nowhere to move without touching someone and the collective heat output was unbearable. When eight o'clock, and then eight fifteen passed with no Paul McCartney I was on the verge of giving up and moving to an open space where I wouldn't be able to see the stage but where I could breathe. Then, as I asked myself for about the tenth time, "why am I doing this?" the lights on the stage went on and he was there. In that moment, as he played the opening chords to "Hello,Goodbye" every physical discomfort was suddenly meaningless.

Dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, the jacket of which he shortly removed to reveal a pink shirt embroidered with flowers and suspenders, he is as slim as a young man. Although he has probably had some work done on his face, there wasn't the slightest whiff of an aging rocker about him. He seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself singing and playing those same tunes for the umpteenth time. He opened by saying, "Shalom Tel Aviv" and "Shana Tova," and he introduced several of his songs in Hebrew from a crib sheet he charmingly glanced at. He even threw in a few words in Arabic, although I doubt there were many Arabs in the crowd.

The atmosphere was magical and I couldn't help trying to imagine what it must be like to hear 45,000 people singing the words to the songs you wrote, full of love and excitement just to be in the same physical space with you. Only about half his selections were Beatles songs - the rest were from Wings and onwards. There were even a few I had never heard before. I guess there can be life after the Beatles, even for Paul McCartney.

The finale was, of course, Hey Jude, or as he introduced it, 'Ahalan Jude.' The crowd sang the "Nananana" chorus until he and the band came back on stage and did two encores. When it was finally over he could have just walked off the stage but he took the mike and said, "it's time for you to go home!"
"No!" roared the crowd.
The exchange continued for a few minutes until he finally waved and disappeared into the darkness.

What a musician. What a performer. What a guy.