It’s the afternoon of 24th November 1967 and I am in the living room of the house on Warrington Road in Brislington, Bristol, where I lived with my mum. The radio, an enormous but underpowered contraption that sat behind our tiny black and white TV, was set to Radio 1, the BBC’s brand new pop music station. Before the station’s launch, pop music was hard to find. You might hear the odd contemporary tune on the BBC Light programme, which was essentially Radio 2 but for care home residents, and if you were lucky you’d tune into Radio Luxembourg, the signal coming and going in the wind. Why I wasn’t in school, I am not sure. Perhaps I was home after school? And perhaps my mum had a day off work? Anyway, we were there waiting for something special. The promise of a new Beatles record.
Radio 1 had changed everything for young people. Suddenly, we heard of a new world that we had only seen briefly on BBC 1’s Top Of The Pops. We now knew that pop music went beyond The Beatles and the Stones and we couldn’t get enough of it. One thing we could not get enough of was The Beatles. Then, with no musical introduction, there was Paul McCartney: “You say, “Yes”, I say, “No”.You say, “Stop” and I say, “Go, go, go”. Oh, no! You say, “Goodbye” and I say, “Hello, hello, hello“. Macca went on to sing “I don’t know why you say goodbye, I say hello” and that was the gist of the song.
Hello Goodbye was not regarded by critics as one of the band’s greatest songs, but I was all of ten years of age and if the boys had launched into an all day reading of the telephone directory, I’d have willingly listened to it. As it was, I’ve been singing along to that glorious ear worm for nearly 59 years.
Somehow, and I don’t know how, we had known that Hello Goodbye was coming. In all likelihood, Radio 1 had been trailing the new single for some time, announcing they would have have the first play on ‘Wonderful Radio 1’ as we called it. And for pop music fans, it was wonderful and so much more.
That was the excitement of the new single, something that I still feel today. Knowing that one of your favourite artists is going to release a new single is one of the greatest feelings in life, as long as it isn’t crap. I may have suffered over the years with the crushing disappointment of a less than stellar new record, but it is the thrill of the new that always gets me.
In the early 1970’s the curly-mopped Marc Bolan’s T. Rex were on a run of brilliant pop singles, starting with Ride A White Swan, the first single I ever bought with my own money, Hot Love, Jeepster and culminating with the magical Telegram Sam. A blindingly simple guitar riff, classic Bolan gobbledegook lyrics and a banging tune. How could he keep up a run of great pop songs like that? Frankly, he couldn’t. Some big hits followed, for sure, but to my mind Metal Guru, Children of the Revolution and the truly dreadful Solid Gold Easy Action were nowhere near the standard of the early singles.
I knew Telegram Sam was coming and, to the best of my memory, I first heard it on on the playing fields of Briz (Brislington School) on my mate’s crackling little transistor radio. If I was excited before the song came out, this was more exciting for this 15 year old than sitting at the end of the sand pit watching the senior girls take part in the long jump at the annual sports day.
While in 1967, my mum couldn’t afford to buy me the single of Hello Goodbye and I had to make do with radio plays. In 1972 I had pocket money. All that money went on singles, albums when I was particularly flush and as many music magazines as I could afford. By then, I knew what was coming out and when.
The prospect of the new single and the new album still gets me in a tizzy and this week that tizzy is of major proportions. In 1967, the 25 year old Paul McCartney brightened my world with Hello Goodbye. This coming Friday, the 83 year old Macca promises to do the same thing with a brand new album.
The Boys Of Dungeon Lane is said to see Macca taking a nostalgic view of his early days in Liverpool. From what I have heard, the material is as good as anything he has done in 50 years, quite possibly his best solo work, or at least right up there with his best. Yes, his voice is frayed, thinner than it was when he was in his prime, but so what? Early indications suggest that the evident wear and tear in his voice makes the album even more emotional, if that was even possible. For me, he can do what he likes. He’s a Beatle, the greatest songwriter of the modern era.
On Friday, I will be on that early morning bus into town and I shall pick up my copy of The Boys Of Dungeon Lane and be grateful that I am alive at the same time as Macca.
You do not have to like Paul McCartney’s work or for that matter The Beatles’. There is no law that says you must. Personally, I don’t understand how you couldn’t love, never mind like, the greatest band of all time, but there is one thing for sure: without The Beatles music today would have been very different.
Following on from Buddy Holly and the Crickets, the Fab Four were pretty well unique in that they wrote, played on and sang their own records. More than that, they had two, later three, lead singers. (Four if you include Ringo’s efforts and I would if you said Goodnight.) Try to find two Beatles songs that sound alike and you will have done better than I have.
So, Friday is another Hello Goodbye moment for me. And Macca is still the man making the magic for me. The excitement of the new release.
