by Stuart Penney
30 years ago on March 4, 1993, I attended a Paul McCartney press conference in Perth, Western Australia. It didn’t go entirely to plan.
There is, we are told, much to be said for being a big fish in a small pond. Similarly, and stretching the metaphor to breaking point for the purposes of this story, even an ambitious minnow can sometimes get lucky in an isolated city such as Perth.
Located way out on the west coast of Australia, Perth is said to be the most remote capital city on the planet. It’s a spectacularly beautiful and relaxed place to live. The skies are enormous, and the sun nearly always shines. But it is also a mighty long way from anywhere else, something the locals can get a little touchy about if it’s mentioned too often.
The facts are inescapable, however. With a population of around two million, Perth sits a scarcely believable 2,693 km (1673 miles) from Adelaide, the closest city of comparable (or, indeed, of any) size. To give some indication, that’s further than London to Moscow.
There are pros and cons to this extreme isolation, naturally. The tyranny of distance and the time difference between the east and west coasts mean that Perth had to create, by necessity, its own self-contained entertainment microcosm. This was especially true before the internet brought instant communication and made the world a somewhat smaller place.
At one time all the major record labels had offices in Perth and most of the national radio and TV stations still do. Just about every international rock tour from Europe and the US invariably started or ended here. It was (and still is) geographically expedient for them to do so. The one notable exception being the Beatles, who skipped Perth completely during their sole Australian visit of 1964.
In the early 90s I freelanced for the street paper X-Press magazine. Focussing on music, movies, the arts and entertainment, it was a kind of Perth “what’s on” freesheet - think of it as an inky version of London’s famous Time Out, if you will. Given away at record stores, pubs, nightclubs, shopping malls and the like, its revenue came purely from advertising. Every Australian state capital city had at least one such publication back then and the big population centres such as Sydney and Melbourne had two or three competing titles.
I was recruited as the X-Press heavy rock reviewer. 1991 was the year when grunge and thrash started to take off in a big way and the magazine urgently needed someone who could write about it. This was not nearly as glamorous as it sounds. I wasn’t exactly a heavy metal expert but since absolutely no one else at the mag wanted the job (in fact, most looked down their noses at the genre) I decided to give it a go. How hard could it be, I reasoned.
Before long I was interviewing big-name bands such as Metallica, Megadeth, Faith No More, Iron Maiden, Kiss and Def Leppard on a regular basis. Along with the weekly album and live reviews I even had my own column titled, somewhat unimaginatively, “Full Metal Racket.” There’s the Perth small pond syndrome at work in a nutshell.
The freelancers were paid a pittance, but by way of compensation we did get shedloads of free records and CDs plus tickets for almost every concert which came to town. For a Perth music writer in the 90s life was good.
Pre-release album previews and concert meet and greet events were also a big thing back then. And just occasionally there were the press conferences. So it was that in March 1993 I got a call from the local EMI office asking if I was interested in attending a Paul McCartney press conference scheduled to take place ahead of his first Australian tour in 18 years. Was I interested? I’d not enjoyed some of his recent albums around that time, it’s true (Press To Play and Off The Ground were particularly limp affairs) but this was Paul bloody McCartney, after all.
After confirming that I was, indeed, interested I was instructed to report to a specific entrance at the concert venue, Subiaco Oval, an Australian Rules Football stadium the following afternoon.
There I was ushered into a holding room along with a bunch of newspaper reporters, TV and radio presenters and a smattering of local media types. I recognised a few of them from television, but we freelancers were a long way down the journalistic pecking order, so pleasantries were not exchanged.
Since Perth was to be the first concert of the 10 date Australasian leg of McCartney’s 1993 The New World Tour, reporters from Sydney and Melbourne had also flown in to preview the show before it reached the all-important east coast cities. These were Macca’s first Australian dates since the 1975 Wings Over the World Tour and media interest was running high.
We were each handed a press pack consisting of a folder containing several 8 x 10 glossies of Paul, plus assorted biographical info and details about the tour itself.
McCartney’s energetic publicist Geoff Baker then bounded into the room to deliver a pre-conference pep talk. Fashionably unshaven with wire-rimmed glasses and wild hair, he resembled a hip geography teacher combined with perhaps a hint of Frank Zappa. He was not at all what you might expect from the high-powered PR man of arguably the biggest rock star in the world.
Baker briefed us on what was about to happen and exactly how the press conference would play out. We were advised which topics to avoid during the Q&A section (these were mostly of the “will the surviving Beatles ever reform” type, although this directive was largely ignored by the mainstream newsmen) and told that Paul would sign autographs for us when it was all over.
Formerly the showbiz editor of the unashamedly downmarket UK red top tabloid Daily Star, Geoff Baker worked for McCartney for around 15 years, but it all ended badly in 2004 when he was sacked amid accusations that, in Paul’s words, “his work had failed to meet professional standards.”
Baker had, in fact, previously been briefly dismissed and re-hired in 2003 after he tipped off journalists about Macca’s late-night visit to see illusionist David Blaine during his 44-day endurance stunt in a glass cage by the river Thames. This resulted in an unseemly press scrum with some photographers claiming they were roughed-up by McCartney’s security team. But it was when Paul’s second wife the abrasive Heather Mills entered the picture in 2002 that Baker’s position became untenable, and he was finally let go two years later.
After the briefing we trouped out to the football field where several rows of plastic chairs were arranged on the grass in front of a raised platform with a desk, upon which sat maybe 20 microphones. This was to be an open-air press conference and there was a small PA system off to the side. At this point Baker left us to wait under the unforgiving Western Australian sun for what seemed like an eternity.
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| Geoff Baker |
Eventually, a top-of-the-line Ford LTD limousine (a stretched version of a Ford Falcon/Fairlane and probably the most prestigious Aussie-built car at that time) entered the field and parked on the grass a couple of hundred yards away from where we were sitting. Paul and Linda got out and, shadowed by an enormous bodyguard built like a sumo wrestler, they walked to a roped-off area some distance from us where a gaggle of photographers was waiting.
It was at this point I left my seat to take a closer look. There was no way I was going to sit idly by while an actual Beatle was posing for photographs only yards away. Significantly, I was the only one from the press enclosure to do so. This would prove to be a miscalculation.
I made my way circuitously to the roped-off section and stood behind the photographers as they furiously snapped away. It was bedlam with the newsmen jostling for position and calling out inanities like “This way Paul!” “One more!” and “Over here Linda!” But the couple remained utterly unfazed throughout. The thought occurred that McCartney had been living this fishbowl existence for 30 years, his entire adult life, in fact, so this was just another day at the office for him.
Standing just a couple of feet away, I was struck by how tanned and attractive Linda looked in a blue floral dress and without a hint of make-up. Her bare legs were heavily freckled, and she was the picture of health. Sadly, within five years she would no longer be with us.
The photo call completed, Paul’s entourage began to make its way to where the actual press conference was due to take place. This was awkward. I didn’t want to cut in front of them to re-take my seat, so I hung back, deciding to take the long way around and enter the area from the back.
At this point a heavily built man in a suit and carrying a walkie talkie who I assumed to be part of the stadium security stepped in front of me and stuck his arm out, blocking my path. “Where do you think you’re going?” he barked aggressively. “Er, back to my seat over there,” I said sheepishly, pointing in the general direction of the press conference area. He became angry and not a little flustered at this, “You shouldn’t have been at the photo call in that case!” he spluttered.
I don’t think he believed me at first, thinking I was just a chancer who had wandered in off the street. Although that would have been extremely unlikely because as I noticed when arriving at the stadium earlier there was rigid security at every conceivable entrance. I’d been asked to produce ID to gain access and my name was checked against a list.
He was becoming more obnoxious by the second and at one point it seemed as if I was about to be ejected. Eventually I produced my X-Press laminate and he finally seemed satisfied, albeit grudgingly, snapping “Hurry up and sit down, then, for God’s sake!” I did as I was told and scrambled back to my seat just as Paul reached the platform and the press conference began.
I suppose it lasted around 30 minutes with questions ranging from the mundane (“What can fans expect from this tour?”) to the parochial (“How does it feel to be back in Australia?”) via the inevitable (“Do you have any plans to work with George and Ringo again?”).
Serious questions were asked about drugs (Paul said while he was against the hard stuff, he was in favour of decriminalising marijuana); the hole in the ozone layer (a huge topic at the time) and animal rights, including laboratory experiments on monkeys. The Royal Family and the Charles and Diana phone scandal were also discussed. The so-called “Camillagate” and “Squidgygate” tapes had just been released by the media to huge public interest. “Do you believe those tapes?” he said in bemused amazement.
Paul was his usual upbeat, matey self throughout, offering friendly, non-controversial answers to even the most boring and unimaginative queries. I was just happy to be there as an interested observer and didn’t raise my hand to pose a question. If I had done so it probably would have been something painfully dull about guitars or similar.
Finally, the press conference was over and Geoff Baker stepped up to announce that Paul would now sign autographs. At this juncture all hell broke loose. I was surprised to see hard-nosed TV newsmen and serious journalists in smart suits make a mad scramble towards the raised platform like crazed teenage Beatle fans. They were literally elbowing each other out of the way and knocking over chairs in their haste to get a signature. Items were roughly thrust at Paul from all directions, and he calmly and diligently began to sign them all. He’d clearly experienced this a thousand times before.
Not wishing to get caught up in the unseemly scrum, I decided to hang back and wait for the crush to thin out before offering up one of the 8 x 10 glossies to be signed (pictured here). The signature was rushed (not surprising under the circumstances) and we didn’t make eye contact. Polly, a friend and journalist colleague from X-Press had the foresight to take the colour photo insert of Paul from the Beatles’ “White Album” to get autographed and I cursed myself for not bringing something more imaginative.
After every last photo and scrap of paper had been signed, we were asked to wait in the enclosure while Paul and Linda, accompanied by the bodyguard, walked back to the limo and left the stadium. And then it was all over.
I should add at this point that I didn’t attend the McCartney concert on March 5. It was one of those rare events where free tickets were in very short supply and X-Press was only allocated a couple which were immediately snapped up by others. It seems crazy to say this now, but that run of poor McCartney albums from the late 80s/early 90s had dampened my enthusiasm somewhat. I can offer no further excuses than that, m’lud.
Running for 78 shows in 19 countries and spanning five continents, The New World Tour kicked off in late February 1993 with concerts in Italy and Germany before ending in Chile, South America just before Christmas. Along the way it took in Australasia, North America, Japan and most of Europe.
The touring band consisted of Paul and Linda, Robbie McIntosh (guitar), Hamish Stuart (guitar, bass), Paul ‘Wix’ Wickens (keyboards) and Blair Cunningham (drums). This was the line-up which had recently completed the album Off The Ground. The tour was commemorated with the concert album Paul Is Live, released in November 1993. Although mostly recorded in the US, it also featured three tracks from the March shows in Sydney.
By coincidence, Bob Geldof was also in Perth in March 1993 doing a week-long stint as a DJ on the local radio station 96fm. Geldof and McCartney had been mates since Live Aid in 1985 and Paul was invited on the show where they chatted on air between records.
A journalist for the West Australian daily newspaper found himself in the centre of a media storm after filing a scathing review of the concert. Veteran writer Ron Banks claimed the Perth show was a “limp squib” (perhaps he intended to write “damp squib”?) and that some fans had left the venue after an hour. The review also got some of the song titles wrong.
It transpired that, to meet the deadline, Banks had dictated his copy mid-way through the concert using a primitive early mobile phone and, to add insult to injury, the sub-editors at his newspaper had mangled his words making the show seem even worse.
Geoff Baker responded with a press release: “It is always the people, not the critics, who matter, and we were touched to hear of your concerns that we might be leaving Perth with a bad feeling (because of the blue meanie Ron Banks).
“Worry not - you have been nothing but kind to us since we arrived here, and we leave with your cheers in our hearts.”
The backlash from fans around the world proved so strong that Ron Banks was obliged to retract his original review and issue a clarification.
Paul did not return to Perth until late 2017 with his One On One tour. Subiaco Oval had closed since his last visit and this time he played the nib Stadium, a football (soccer) ground close to the city centre. We live in the era of ground sponsorship and this stadium has had no few than six different names in recent years. At the time of writing, it goes under the name HBF Park.
It wasn’t the end of McCartney’s link with the suburb of Subiaco, however. On November 30, 2017, he performed an intimate rehearsal concert and Q&A session in front of 20 selected fans at the historic Regal Theatre. Opened in 1938 the art deco venue has a seating capacity of just over 1,000.
Set List, Subiaco Oval, March 5, 1993
1. Drive My Car
2. Coming Up
3. Get Out Of My Way
4. Another Day
5. All My Loving
6. Let Me Roll It
7. Peace In The Neighbourhood
8. Off The Ground
9. I Wanna Be Your Man
10. Robbie's Bit
11. Good Rockin' Tonight
12. We Can Work It Out
13. And I Love Her
14. Every Night
15. Hope Of Deliverance
16. Michelle
17. Biker Like An Icon
18. Here, There And Everywhere
19. Yesterday
20. My Love
21. Lady Madonna
22. Live And Let Die
23. Let It Be
24. Magical Mystery Tour
25. The Long And Winding Road
26. C'Mon People
27. Paperback Writer
28. Fixing A Hole
29. Penny Lane
30. Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
Encore
31. Band On The Run
32. I Saw Her Standing There
33. O Sole Mio (snippet)
34. Hey Jude
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