Saturday, November 5, 2011

Southern Starr

One of the striking things about Buenos Aires is that people are crazy about music here. Especially rock music. Especially old rock music. There are many, many Argentine rock bands with large rabid followings, but bands from the English-speaking world, ones of a certain vintage, are just unbelievably popular. I always joke that washed-up bands should never break up - they should just tour Argentina incessantly. Any Sixties or Seventies band with a "name" will sell beaucoup tickets here. A mutated Creedence Clearwater - unbelievably, sans John Fogerty - draws thousands. A group of geezers that couldn't draw flies in L.A. or N. Y. is a stadium act here. There is a steady stream of unlikely acts coming through town selling tens of thousands of tickets. Foghat, anyone? Where do the locals get the dinero? No se.

Worship of "classic rock" music is a major feature of the culture here, but one group stands supreme in the Argentine heart and soul: the Fab Four, of course, The Beatles. There is a Beatles museum that draws thousands of fans, Beatles grafitti everywhere, Beatles T-shirts worn by teenagers and middle-aged men alike, Beatle tribute bands (we saw "The Beetles" on TV last night). Sir Paul McCartney drew like 80,000 to his concert this year. I met a 20 year-old kid with a George Harrison tattoo. You have to spend some time here to really understand the depth of the Beatle-love flowing through the streets of Buenos Aires.

Which brings me to my tale. Jen and I decided to take a jaunt to a swank shopping mall a short bus ride away in the Retiro neighborhood to have a coffee and look around a bit. While strolling aimlessly, doing the odd bit of window shopping, I found myself looking out the window of one of the mall entrances. A guy dressed in black with a hat and shades, accompanied by a classy-looking blonde lady, was crossing the street to the mall. I watched him gesture to a photographer on the sidewalk - no pictures, please. "That guy looks like Ringo", I said to myself. They walked in the door, trailed by a stocky, grim-faced fellow with white hair. As they walked right past us, I whispered to Jen, unbelievingly, "Is that Ringo?" It plainly was Ringo Starr (nee Richard Starkey), one of the world's two remaining Beatles.

Should I try to shake his hand? Should I try to say something? Something that might mean something to me but very little to him? I should say now that I love the Beatles with a deep and abiding passion that dates back to 1964 when I first saw them on the Ed Sullivan show. I also have tremendous respect for Ringo as a musician, and Jen and I have gone to see him and his band twice in the last several years - enjoying great shows both times. After half a moment's reflection, I realized I wasn't going to say anything. He and his wife, actress Barbara Bach, were just trying to be cool and do a little window shopping in Buenos Aires. I reflected on what it must be like to be a freakin' Beatle, and how peace and quiet and privacy in public are all but impossible. I also thought: "Does he have any idea how much people love him here?"

Jen and I casually strolled behind Ringo and his wife (and bodyguard) for a few minutes. Hey, we were window shopping too! Anyway, they briefly checked out a luggage store (what in God's name does Ringo need that he doesn't already have?), and just cruised around unnoticed. After a few minutes, however, his cover was blown. Two teenage girls - yes, two 16-year old teenyboppers recognized 71 year-old rocker Ringo Starr and boldly asked for a picture. How cool is that? Where else in the world would teen girls, normally enthralled by Gaga and Bieber, face-check an ancient rocker? Only in Buenos Aires! Ringo was good sport, and his wife seemed to enjoy being pressed into duty taking the photo when the bodyguard couldn't work the phone-camera.

That's when the wheels came off. As Ringo posed with the two girls, his cover got blown big-time. As Jen and I watched, a big, burly dude, overcome with Beatle-love, approached Ringo, grabbed him in a bear-hug and tried to kiss him (you knew that was coming)! Ringo twisted out of his grasp, avoiding the man-smooch, and the bodyguard gave the big guy a firm shove. Poor Ringo. Sadly, we could watch no more. I guess he had had five or ten minutes of being a normal guy, window shopping with his wife. I don't think he had any idea how much the people of Buenos Aires LOVE him, but he's going to find out. [Note: Ringo Starr and his All-Starr Band play a sold out show Monday night in Buenos Aires. It's Ringo's first trip to South America.]

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