As I have reflected in our course discussion threads, music has always served for me as an optimal source of hope, inspiration, and one of my favorite reified invocations of the human imagination. In this way, interviews have often been one one of the most tangible gateways into the artist's creative process of bringing their imagination to life. The tenderness and vulnerability of Paul McCartney to crack open this process for an audience is one of my favorites to watch. He readily talks about seeing loved ones who have passed on his dreams, how that in turn influences his work and motivates him to keep going.
If one were to take stock of his life, one would find it riddled with grief from his experiences with deep and tragic loss. In looking back at his interviews in the early days of my injury, and revisiting them again recently, I find his ability to talk about grief so remarkable. Even though I am sure that everyone's experience with loss, grief, and mourning is different, I am amazed, time and again, but how un-taboo it seems to McCartney without ever trying to appease its undeniable, deep-cutting resonance. After reading a number of books throughout this semester for this project, I have found that so many creators, including Patti Smith, Joan Didion, and Sheila Heti, reflect on the legibility of grief on someone's body, most notably their face. Never have I seen this twinkle so piercingly, but also so gently held in tandem with grace and gratitude, than I have in McCartney. In EVERY interview. What I realize now, that I may not have been able to astutely realize before, was the fact that this is actually just a reflection of what I said earlier: in my eyes, McCartney has never appeared to attempt to avoid grief, but actively build around it. If people have the chance to watch either of these interviews, I would love to hear if they felt similarly.
Recently, I had the absolute pleasure of seeing Paul McCartney in concert. It was, all puns intended and legitimated, a dream come true. In the video below that I took from the concert of him singing "Let It Be," I was brought back to the moment in the GQ interview, posted next to this, about how this song came to be. How he had a dream about his mother, Mary, whom he lost very young, that was giving him words of assurance. Words of hope. How he woke up from this dream singing a tune, walked over to his piano, and wrote the song, the lyrics and melodies flowing seamlessly out of him. While I am sure that knowing the deeply personal resonance of a song to the artist can drastically impact the experience of receiving their work, I must admit that I was brought to tears when I heard him sing the song live. I could see that twinkle in his eyes and feel the tremble in his voice deep in my chest even from feet away, projected onto the large monitors, interwoven with his joy to perform, and sharing his creations with the audience, who all sang along, knowing every word, probably with their own memories attached to his song. What a powerfully transformative, and connective, thing the human imagination can be.
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my personal video of Paul playing "Let It Be" in concert not too long ago (the link below is for a public Google Drive folder, so the link will take you away from this page)