We Can Have Good Things: Seeing Paul McCartney Live in Albuquerque
- Teresa Robinson
- 7 days ago
- 4 min read
Just like the pandemonium New Mexico felt when the announcement was made that a certain Beatle would be coming to the Land of Enchantment, the buzz was electric. Paul McCartney—yes, that Paul McCartney—was set to perform in Albuquerque. The news spread like wildfire, uniting generations of music lovers in joyful disbelief. For me, it wasn’t just another concert announcement. It was the realization of a lifelong dream.
Growing up, I watched McCartney on grainy videos—first with his bandmates in The Beatles, then as a solo act, and even in his duets with Michael Jackson. I’ve admired his ability to evolve, to stay true to his sound while constantly reinventing himself. While I knew it was a long shot to hear “No More Lonely Nights” or “Pipes of Peace” performed on stage that night, I was deeply grateful for the opportunity to witness history unfold here in New Mexico. So, sitting in Section 2, Row M, Seat 12, waiting for him to take the stage felt surreal. It still does.
The amphitheater was alive. It felt as if all of New Mexico had descended upon Isleta to be part of this one-in-a-million night. The crowd was a beautiful mix of ages—fans who had lived through Beatlemania and those who’d inherited it from their parents and grandparents. By 8:46 p.m., the seats were still filling, anticipation hanging heavy in the desert air. On the screens, video montages of McCartney’s decades on the road played—moments from world tours, television appearances, and personal footage—all leading up to this one. The stage stood ready, two grand pianos gleaming under the lights.
And then, it happened.
The man himself took the stage.
To some, Paul McCartney is the “patron saint” of music. To me, he’s simply one of the greatest talents ever to live. At 83, Sir Paul—knighted by the Queen for his contributions to music and culture—still has that mischievous twinkle in his eye and an energy that could outpace men half his age. He opened the night with “Help!” and the crowd erupted. The horns were crisp, the drums sharp, and nostalgia flooded the air. The excitement continued with his performance of “Coming Up,” accompanied by projections from the original Wings music video. After greeting the crowd, McCartney smiled and said, “We’ve got some old songs, some new songs, and some in-between songs — this next one is not a new one,” before seamlessly flowing into “Got to Get You Into My Life,” followed by “Drive My Car” and “Letting Go.”
After “Come On to Me,” he casually removed his jacket, earning a howl of delight from the audience. He rolled effortlessly into “Let Me Roll It,” dedicated to Jimi Hendrix, before offering a few personal memories that melted into “Getting Better.” Every song was a time capsule, a reminder that we were watching living history unfold before us.
I let out a yell when he launched into “Let ’Em In.” Every note carried the familiarity of childhood, the soundtrack of my earliest memories. “My Valentine,” written for his wife Nancy—who was in the audience that night—was hauntingly beautiful, accompanied by a sign language video that played softly behind him.
Like a fine wine, McCartney proves that artistry matures with age. While his voice carries the texture of time, it’s filled with warmth, wisdom, and the same charm that captivated the world six decades ago. When he began “Maybe I’m Amazed,” tears welled in my eyes. That song has always been a reminder of love, devotion, and the enduring power of melody. Hearing it live felt like being transported back in time.
Then came the memories—the reason why this night meant so much to so many. McCartney shared stories about The Beatles, recalling how “four boys from Liverpool formed a little band that did quite well.” He smiled, his humility intact even after all these years. The opening chords of “Love Me Do” drew gasps and cheers. Every person in the crowd—young or old—sang along, united by the music that had defined entire generations.
When the first notes of “Blackbird” began, I froze. The song has always been a favorite of mine, but hearing McCartney perform it live was something else entirely. He spoke about writing it during the Civil Rights Movement as a message of hope and resilience. He shared how, when The Beatles first toured America, they once refused to play a segregated venue until it was integrated. It was a powerful reminder that the band’s legacy wasn’t just about music—it was about humanity.
McCartney followed with “Here Today,” a song written in memory of John Lennon. His voice cracked with emotion, every word filled with love and a hint of regret. He honored George Harrison with “Something,” playing it on a ukulele that George had given him. These were not just performances—they were tributes, pieces of history carried forward with tenderness and grace.
As the night went on, the energy soared. “Lady Madonna,” “Jet,” “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da,” “Band on the Run,” and “Get Back” had everyone on their feet, dancing and singing like it was 1964 all over again.
Then came “Let It Be,” and the emotion in the venue was almost overwhelming. McCartney’s voice carried exhaustion, yes—but it added depth, honesty, and vulnerability. When “Live and Let Die” hit, the stage exploded—literally—with fireworks and pyrotechnics that turned the night sky into a fiery masterpiece. The energy was contagious, a reminder that McCartney isn’t just a musician—he’s an experience.
And then, as if to tie it all together, came “Hey Jude.” Thousands of voices sang in unison, strangers connecting in harmony. For a brief, shining moment, the world outside melted away. We were all the same—hopeful, joyful, and alive in the magic of music. He still had enough in him to finish the show with a three-song encore — “I’ve Got a Feeling,” a powerhouse blend of “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” and “Helter Skelter,” and finally, the perfect closer, “Golden Slumbers.”
As we slowly made our way out of the venue, still in a daze, I kept thinking the same thing: I just saw Paul McCartney live in Albuquerque.
It felt unreal—like waking from a dream you don’t want to end. But the message was clear: we can have good things.
Because on that night, under the New Mexico stars, we did.
Thanks for capturing the spirit of the evening so perfectly. It was a magic night and those of us who were lucky enough to be there won't forget it!
I found this review to be exceptional. Reading this, I was transported back to that monumental night. Seeing the soundtrack of my childhood performed after 6 decades, for the first time, and sharing that with my son, will be a cherished memory.
You certainly captured every aspect of that magical night!
Drove in from Grand Junction Co. for this show. Now, I’ve been going to rock concerts since the early 1970’s, Deep Purple, Lynyrd Skynyrd (x2),Edgar Winter, Doobies, ELO to name a few. Nothing, and I mean nothing compares to what I experienced on 10-7-25. My god, I’ve seen audiences sing along with the artist, but not for 10,11,12 songs in a row. The author of the above review is right, it was an unbelievable feeling of unison in the audience, all 16,000 of us. Patron Saint of music? Yessir, you’ll get no argument from me.
Brilliant review of a brilliant concert! I am so happy I was able to attend, and this article captures the event on point.