Music N' Other Drugs

Former professional basketball player Paul Shirley once wrote a piece for ESPN in which he dared to suggest that The Beatles weren’t THAT great and all of the hype surrounding them had more to do with peer pressure than actual musical proficiency. He argued that anyone born in the wake of Beatlemania was unable to claim them as their favorite band due to having no way to properly appreciate their impact on popular culture.

Because we all hear things differently, I’ve always respected Shirley’s opinion even though I vehemently disagree with every word of it. He gave the so-called “Worldwide Leader in Sports” the provocative take they were looking for and has never backed off his words in the 16 years since they were published.

However, I have many of the same issues with him as I did Danny Boyle’s 2019 disaster, “Yesterday,” which turned one of the greatest catalogs in recorded history into coffeehouse pablum without any of the personality or weirdness that grabbed people from the beginning.

Sure, I’ll concede that technological developments have led to better production values since the 1960s, but the speed and variety with which the band worked back then is what really separated them from the pack. They weren’t afraid to experiment and the breadth of material they churned out between 1963 and 1970 could have only originated from those four guys.

Regarding Mr. Shirley’s second point, I would have loved for him to confront my 10-year-old son during Paul McCartney’s sold-out stunner at KeyBank Center on Friday night and tell him that he’s too young to truly love The Beatles. Even if he had been able to get a word in while my son was singing along to “Love Me Do,” “Get Back,” and “Hey Jude” at the top of his lungs, he wouldn’t have gotten far. We’re living in a time when the mainstream musical selections of the day aren’t exactly prime cuts, so why would we want to dissuade Generation Alpha from crashing the party?

That’s the inclusivity those of us who were lucky enough to be there experienced for nearly three hours. Everyone was invited and McCartney didn’t hesitate to let ’em in.

At 83, Paul’s stamina is astounding, and he rolled through 35 songs without ever taking a sip of water that I could see. He played the ukelele on “Something,” the mandolin on “Dance Tonight,” and did some plain old shredding on an electric guitar for “Let Me Roll It,” which featured a coda of Jimi Hendrix’s “Foxy Lady.”

Just when I thought I had seen the greatest moments of my concertgoing life in “Got to Get You Into My Life,” “Blackbird,” and “Maybe I’m Amazed,” he turned up the heat even more on “Band on the Run,” “Let It Be,” and “Live and Let Die” to stop me in my tracks. He even threw in “In Spite of All the Danger,” a Quarrymen track from 1958, that left my inner music nerd buzzing with excitement.

Nothing was off limits and his voice held up as well as anyone could expect at this stage of his career. If anything, the moments where he did happen to sound his age only lent more gravitas to everything we were hearing.

Was saving “Helter Skelter” for the encore risky?

Not for Paul. He nailed those vocal crescendos like the professional that he is and the finale of “Golden Slumbers,” “Carry That Weight,” and “The End” hit yet another emotional peak that those of us in attendance will never forget.

He knows what The Beatles mean to people and appears to thrive on the challenge of giving everyone exactly what they came for, so any fears that this event would fall short of expectations were squashed early. He delivered in every way, and his enthusiasm should serve as a reminder to all of us to stay positive despite how dire things may feel on a daily basis.

2025 has been the worst year of my life on multiple levels, but being able to share this once-in-a-lifetime concert with my son is something that I’ll carry with me as long as I live.