Ask the girl what she wanted to be

I had been warned that the experience might be surreal. Well, yeah, I can guess that much. Until it happens, and then you remember the meaning of surreal: something that is happening, yet that your sane self knows can’t be happening, because anyone would know that Paul McCartney doesn’t ring people, especially not twenty seconds after an automated message that goes « Hi! This is Quest Marketing! You have just won a cruise for… »

« Hi, this is Paul McCartney », yeah right, again that bloody telemarketing thing, Paul, what? « Paul??! Hey, hi, you’ll never guess what, that was spooky the telephone just rang before you and it was that… » But Paul doesn’t guess what because he is Paul McCartney and he is already right in interview mode. So you shuffle your notes, look around wildly, thinking « this is Paul McCartney, right, that is ok, fine, Paul McCartney, what, er, well, fine, not a problem, Macca, McCartney, what, question, yes, question » and manage a first sentence ending with a question mark that will hopefully buy you time to run around madly trying to work out what to do next to keep normal.

So McCartney starts talking about the boys outnumbering the girls in the French audience. A sense that it is really Paul McCartney starts to emerge, because I have heard him tell that story before, and I almost interrupt him « hey, you are really Paul McCartney, aren’t you? » half expecting a congratulatory pat on the back for my discernment.

Then the interview starts to unfold and reality is reversed: my thoughts appear as islands of certainty, their longevity become a tangible proof of their reality, while what is happening is just impossible. Impossible. Doesn’t work, sorry, I give up, shall we stop and do the interview tomorrow maybe, or never? Of course that is when he chooses to say « reception is really bad, I’ll call you back ». God the dream is super clever, it does things like in reality, Paul McCartney has got a phone, and it has bad reception, and he will ring me back. Oh God, he does.

« Hi! »

Then the fan in me comes to the rescue. « Go on silly lass, I told you this would happen, I am ready, I have always been ready, I can handle this interview for you, shove off! »

So the fan starts hearing McCartney sing « She loves you » and cheers like she was on a rodeo horse, and then she hears him talk about « Paperback Writer » and has to be wrestled to the ground not to butt in « Paul, Paul, is it true that the backing vocals go Frere Jacques on that track? »

Then McCartney talks about magic and suddenly I am back in the room: the kid, the grown-up, the fan, the journalist, the romantic, all as one hanging on to his words, because he is finally about to give the key, music, music, how does it work, why does it do what it does to me, why has it shaped my whole life, how do you do it, what, why? Then he talks about how it happens to him too. How basically he is a musical magician, but has no clue how it all happens. How he’s got super powers he doesn’t understand. He sits there and gets a bit worried, ah well, plays the guitar, the tune’s head is coming out, I can see it! Yes! Jesus, another one! Will it work next time?

And I realise there is that man from Liverpool at the other end of the line, the last magic trick being that we are talking to each other, two people with nothing in common but the total ignorance of how that unintelligible law with sharps and flats and pretend keys has made us who we are.

« I want to meet Paul McCartney ».

To which I usually added « and save the world » in that lovely overbearing and imperialist lingo of the early 80s.

I have now (though virtually) done the former. As for the latter, well, I cannot believe how I am still trying. And the fact that I am trying, the fact I have turned out to be someone I get along with most days, I know I owe it to music, and specifically to the music Paul McCartney made. Yes, Frog Song included (did I really mention the Frog Song to him? Jesus I did!). Which is something I couldn’t quite fit in as a closing line to a phone interview, you know, the gratitude, the « if I start talking about your music, I am going to have to tell you all about my life ».

« I want to meet Paul McCartney ».

Yes, go to bed now. You little girl with wonky glasses and braces you are not yet wearing, you little tyrant, do you have any idea what you made me go through? I have done it now. You do not need to be afraid anymore, I will never think it was stupid idea (though…)

I have kept my promise, and I will never let you down.