Photos by Seth Combs
Ask anyone who covers the local music scene and they’ll tell you that sometimes San Diego blows it when it comes to hot, up-and-coming music acts. Here’s how it usually plays out: An act will come through town just after, or just before, playing a Los Angeles show. More often than not, that L.A. show will be sold out, which is generally not the case with the San Diego show. In fact, the San Diego show often ends up serving as an encore or warm-up to the L.A. appearance. This isn’t the band’s fault, but because San Diegans don’t show up. What’s worse, the band remembers and is much more likely to skip San Diego on its next tour.
So imagine being the biggest band in the world, selling out stadiums all over the U.S. and Europe, only to come to San Diego and not even selling two-thirds of the available tickets. Such was the case on Aug. 28, 1965, when The Beatles—fresh off a sold-out show in L.A.—came to San Diego to play at the old Balboa Stadium. Those lucky enough to have been there witnessed the band’s one and only appearance in San Diego.
Nearly 54 years later, Paul McCartney, looking as svelte and sounding nearly as crisp as he did in the ’60s, opened his sold-out show at Petco Park with “A Hard Day’s Night,” one of the same numbers The Beatles played in 1965. And with more than double the amount of people that showed up to that Beatles gig in 1965, it seems San Diegans have since learned their lesson. Well, at least some of those who were old enough to remember.
“I’ve got a feeling we’re going to have a little bit of fun tonight,” McCartney told the crowd just after the second song. “We got some old songs for you, we got some new ones, and we’ve got some in-betweeners. This one is definitely not a new one.”
With that, he launched into “Can’t Buy Me Love,” much to the delight—or maybe the chagrin—of the 50-something man with his 20-something girlfriend sitting behind me.
“I’d definitely fuck him,” the woman said about McCartney, just after the song ended. The hilarity of such a statement was not lost on me, but I did find the couple to be representative of the overall crowd on this night. All around me were a mix of die-hard fans of all ages, some approaching McCartney’s age and some as young as their teens. When it came to the younger people in the audience, I got the sense that truly desired to be a part of what they were witnessing. That is, they loved the music just as much as their parents or grandparents.
“I’m here with my mom and it’s her birthday,” a young woman told me. “Her name is June and all I want is for him to play ‘Hey Jude.’”
Of course, McCartney did just that a few songs later, with the crowd of over 40,000 singing along to every word and every syllable. As if sensing the moment, he played “Birthday” right after “Hey Jude.” It really was a perfect moment.
Some other perfect moments: The horn section that magically appeared in the stands during a performance of the Wings hit, “Letting Go.” McCartney taking off his jacket after about the seventh song and declaring—cool as a cucumber and barely breaking a sweat—that it was going to be “the one and only wardrobe change of the whole night” before launching into a blistering rendition of Wings’ “Let Me Roll It.” While I later learned that he said the exact same thing during his 2014 Petco show, he made up for it with his stories in between songs; the ones about “old friends” such as Jimi Hendrix, George Harrison, Eric Clapton and, of course, John Lennon.
“If we do a Beatles’ song, the whole place lights up with your phones,” McCartney said just after the one-two punch of “Lady Madonna” and “Eleanor Rigby.” “It’s like a galaxy of stars. When we play a new one, it looks like a black hole. But we don’t care—we’re going to play them anyhow.”
It was charming to see the San Diego crowd light the place up with their phones (there were even—gasp—a few lighters) as he played one of those newer songs (thanks to George Varga’s excellent review of the concert, I now know that song is called “Fuh You”).
“OK, you fooled me with the lights,” McCartney chuckled after the song.
The two most beautiful moments of the night, however, came when McCartney played a solo rendition of “Blackbird,” explaining that the song was a statement of solidarity for the civil rights movement. A few songs later he broke out a vintage ukulele, a gift from George Harrison, and played a reverent version of Harrison’s “Something,” a song Frank Sinatra once called “the greatest love song ever written,” and the second-most covered song in The Beatles’ catalogue (after McCartney’s “Yesterday,” natch).
Alas, McCartney did not play “Yesterday,” a song I would have personally loved to hear, but he did nearly burn the place down with “Live and Let Die” (like, literally—there was a pyrotechnics display that approached Big Bay Boom levels). Ash from the fireworks fell on me like snow as I looked around at the faces around me. Nearly 54 years since the first time he came to San Diego, Paul McCartney had a sold-out crowd in the palm of his hand. And he didn't let them down.