CLUB SANDWICH 75

LIVE AID TEN YEARS AFTER

            Everyone loves an anniversary, especially the media. It's the "peg" on which a thousand stories hang. Sometimes the anniversaries are mere hype and not worth the fuss and bother, yet at other times they're necessary in making us take stock: just what has occurred in the years since x happened? This is especially true of Live Aid, the pair of concerts in July 1985 which united the twin forces of compassion and music on a global scale.
            So, just as he was a decade ago, Paul McCartney was happy to take part in the ten-year commemoration and celebration of all that was Live Aid: BBC radio and TV documentaries about the event and a 90 minute dramatised production on BBC Radio 4 which re-created the run up to the big day through the eyes and ears of its remarkable driving force, Bob Geldof. This production, Remember Live Aid, saw Paul make his debut in a radio drama, acting - as himself - in a dialogue scene with the actor playing Geldof.
            If you were unable to catch the various programmes, here's what you missed.

            Paul acting as himself, talking to Peter O'Meara, the actor playing Bob Celdof

            Paul I want to help, Bob, that footage from Ethiopia is so horrific...
            Bob Right.
            Paul ...but I can't. I've got no band, Bob, I'm not touring, I'm not even in rehearsal.
            Bob But that doesn't matter. Like I said in my letter, it's you we need, just you on your own, doing anything.
            Paul I can't. I haven't worked live for six years.
            Bob Yeah, I know, but...
            Paul And I don't want to make a fool of myself, you know, not in front of a billion people on the telly.
            Bob You won't, Paul, I promise you.
            Paul I've never worked solo. Not ever. You know that?
            Bob Look, Paul, listen. None of that matters. We'll give you a piano, just come along at the end and sing one song. One song, Paul, that's all I'm asking! You know? Do ... oh, do 'Let It Be'. Jeez, if you do that you'll have the whole bloody world in tears, I swear to God!
            Paul One song?
            Bob Millions will watch who won't otherwise. Paul, listen: you can save half a million lives just by saying Yes. Come on, say you'll be there.
            Paul [sighs] Course I'll be there! You didn't think I rang up to say no, did you?
            Bob Good man yourself, Paul!

            And, pulled together from the various programmes, here's some of what Paul remembers about The Big Day.

            About "Saint" Bob Celdof
            His "effing" and blinding helped. Whereas normally it's going to put some people off, most people I talked to just thought it came from the shoulder, just came from someone who meant it, at last. Because normally it was some politician saying [speaking in a polite voice] "please give generously" whereas with Geldof [speaking in Geldof-like brogue] it was like "getting your effin' money out". And that worked.

            About Elvis Costello's contribution
            Watching TV at home I saw Elvis singing 'All You Need Is Love' and thought it was great, the way he stood up on his own and did it, rather than with a band. It seemed more powerful - you could hear the words and the chords and the melody much clearer. I suppose it was heralding the whole Unplugged thing.

            About U2's contribution
            The best moment of the concert for me was U2. I'd not seen a lot of them up to that time and I thought Bono was very charismatic ... or shall we say drunk?

            About Paul's stage performance ... and that faulty sound
            Because I wasn't touring, it was me on my own. I was just showing up as if a member of the audience was going to play, and I had a mate who was driving me and doubling as my roadie. Usually I'd be at a venue five hours before, to rehearse and soundcheck the band and the PA system, but Live Aid wasn't that kind of gig. I mean, when I arrived, mein host, poor old Bob, was asleep backstage from exhaustion.
            So I just wandered up there, no rehearsal or anything, and said, "Where's the piano? Bob said there'd be a piano." And somebody just said, "Er, that's the one over there" pointed to a piano and said "You're on" and I wandered over and thought, "OK, well, here we go".
            I tried a few notes. Nothing. I couldn't hear anything. I didn't have my "team" with me and I was having to busk it, but I thought, "Well, we're on the BBC, the sound must be somewhere. I'm not hearing it - maybe my monitor s out - but it must be going out on the telly." I couldn't just stop and say, "Er, excuse me, millions of people, my monitor's gone," so I just kept going.
            When I knew it was all going terribly wrong was when I heard roadies talking out of my monitor, feeding back. Still, though, I trusted to the thought that somebody must have the sound right somewhere. But then I heard feedback again when I was in the chorus - and for a second I nearly sang "There will be some feedback, let it be".
            But I was saved by the audience - they pulled together to help me. It was that kind of a day.
            You know what had actually happened? Brian and Freddie from Queen had been on before me and their boys had pulled the plugs. Unintentionally! But I didn't really care and it doesn't really matter. So, my bit went a bit wrong and the audience helped me out? It was in the spirit of the event.

            More about that special Live Aid spirit
            Live Aid was not about the 72 artists and their music, it was about helping starving people in Ethiopia. That's why I was there. Mind you, I wish I had checked my microphone lead, at least! It seemed like one of those street party days, like a jubilee event, and the whole country was besotted with it. It was a day we'll all remember and I was very proud to be a part of it. It's one of my proudest memories.