The day that Paul McCartney yielded to the Cordovan lunfardo

It was a cold night, but not so cold, in the autumn of Cordoba in 2016 and Paul MCCARTNEY was preparing to give a concert at the Mario Alberto Kempes. The first in Argentina on that tour, so the country’s attention was focused on his Mediterranean heart. the little roses they were the lucky opening act selected and the stadium was packed so that with English punctuality Sir Paul would once again make history in this country.

I was one of the privileged accredited press for this medium, and my mission was, in addition to chronicling the recital, broadcasting some moments of the show on social networks. But clearly the hidden intention of this follower of Paul, but more than Paul of The Beatles, was to witness that show, live it as close as possible and be part of one of the most important artistic events of my life.

With that emotion disguised as a specialized journalist, she waited in my place for the start of the show. He had neatly annotated the complete set list of the recital, based on an exhaustive investigation of the previous concerts of the tour. The purpose was twofold: to inform the faithful followers of Cba24n, but above all review the lyrics of each of the songs, because a recital of that magnitude, without being able to sing each of the titles was inconceivable.

At that time I was in the second trimester of pregnancy with my first born daughter and being there being part of that show (I had already googled that by then the baby could hear perfectly inside her belly) made me feel like the best mother in the world. I was giving my daughter a conclusive taste of the most incredible thing in music history to come. And while I was thinking about that, I was also thinking about the privilege of having been able to see 50 percent of the Beatles live. Years ago, Ringo Starr and his band of superstars had done their show at the Orpheus.

And while I was preparing the whole chronicle, waiting for Sir Paul’s greeting, the unthinkable happened. The most charismatic of the 4 from Liverpool entered the “Mario Alberto” stage with his impeccable blue suit, his posture of an English lord, his low emblem, and he dismissed himself with a “Good evening Córdoba, Hello Culiados.”

And how can I deny that my chest swelled with pride at hearing from the mouth of that man capable of writing songs like Black Bird, Because or Let it be say the most representative word of this Mediterranean city. Sir Paul learned the pronunciation of the maximum expression of Cordoban lunfardo in an exquisite way. And with that beginning, the confirmation that this was the perfect night to listen to the living legend was complete.

Paul McCartney shined and left no necessary song untouched. For almost three hours he showed off on all his instruments, with and without technology, and gave us songs from his last solo stage and from the time of greatest Beatle greatness. It was a perfect, unforgettable night that began with the least expected phrase and -although there are many detractors- with the most appropriate phrase. The greatness of a poet who knows the public about him.

Happy birthday Paul!


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