I was always a Beatles man. Still am. Their inventiveness and creative drive – an acid fuelled magical mystery tour of genre synthesis for which subsequent musicians of every stripe owe a huge debt of gratitude – eclipsed all rival acts … steelcity post, keef and the spirit of the Stones
… my daughter Fran once stopped me, mid rendition of Baby You Can Drive My Car – I want any favours; I’ll start to scream. “Those aren’t the words”, she said witheringly. “It’s I wanna be famous, a star of the screen “ … steelcity post, Blowin’ in the wind …
Last night in Sheffield, in the rain. Oh what joy for every girl and boy: oldsters like me, our own childhood and adolescence milestoned by the originals, dancing alongside kids the age I was when She Loves You, From Me to You and I Wanna Hold Your Hand topped the charts – kids who know the words better than I do.
As tribute bands go, the Bootleg Beatles are the best. Not just their playing and singing, but posture – down to the left handed bassist – and projected personas are pitch perfect. I’d seen them a few years ago at the City Hall, and on telly, but there was something very special about the outdoor ambience. Last night is the night I will remember them by.
Just before they came on my 7D, way past its shutter-count lifetime, froze on me. These are from my Galaxy S7 phone and will have to do.
See the slideshow, 1706 bootleg beatles.