Perhaps someone was encouraging the people of the city to rise up in revolution (another Beatles song which got an airing, eds) to overthrow the city father's who have wasted millions of pounds of the people's money?
Or perhaps not, eh?
The £50-a-ticket, £15-a-programme Arena show for 10,000 people was ten times better than Friday's so-called People's Opening (which attracted 35,000 according to the police. And to which the Echo has added another 15,000, for some reason best known to the Editor, eds).
Unlike Friday, the Arena show engaged people and included them, even if the people were, largely, those who could afford it, the great and the good, the insiders, the bullshitters and the usual suspects.
Ringo's new single was still an utter embarrassment (although he was refreshingly direct and honest in his pre-match press conference, eds).
The Farm brought real life, energy and enthusiasm to proceedings - "It's Saturday night, get up will ya" - the audience were ordered, and dutifully obeyed.
Connie Lush belted out a couple of numbers with pizzaz.
The acrobats were hardly Cirque Du Soleil, but were absolutely fine.
And Pete Wylie was, well.... Pete Wylie. (Although irritatingly, we have been singing Heart as Big as Liverpool all day, eds)
The undoubted stars of the show, however, were the Phil, who were absolutely stunning throughout.
Trapped in their Celebrity Squares, they showed consummate professionalism in coping with all the hiccups, pregnant pauses and fluffed beginnings.
The suitably dynamic Vasily Petrenko had total control and was marginally even more impressive than the live-wire signers at the side of the stage.
So well done to the Phil.
The other Phil - Our Lord - wandered on stage at the end to grab his share of the limelight and burnish his ego.
There was absolutely no need for his appearance, but appear he did.
Apart from shouting "We did it" (exactly what has been your precise contribution, Redmond? Aside from hogging headlines in the Echo with stories that never happen and using 2008 as the perfect antidote to the boredom and mid-life ennui caused by your multi-millionaire lifestyle, 15 cars and 35-acre home in Tarporley? eds) Redmond lounged about on stage, mouthed total gibberish (get a speech writer for your Mayoral bid, eds) and introduced his mates.
Fireman Bradley looked on disconsolately.
The Arena show had no cohesive narrative whatsoever, was spectacularly disjointed at times, didn't pay real justice to the Liverpool Irish connection, the Chinese community or the war years; treated the 100 children like serfs (why weren't they allowed on stage for 'All Together Now'? eds) and failed to showcase the full range and diversity of Liverpool's Culture.
But as an earlier correspondent noted, the show was 'alright'. It wasn't a disaster. And it engaged the audience.
It was not mind-bogglingly spectacular, breathtaking or world-beating.
But it was ok.
And after years of CoC cock-ups, mistakes and blunders from the half-wits in charge, just being OK it seems, will now do.
Or perhaps not, eh?
The £50-a-ticket, £15-a-programme Arena show for 10,000 people was ten times better than Friday's so-called People's Opening (which attracted 35,000 according to the police. And to which the Echo has added another 15,000, for some reason best known to the Editor, eds).
Unlike Friday, the Arena show engaged people and included them, even if the people were, largely, those who could afford it, the great and the good, the insiders, the bullshitters and the usual suspects.
Ringo's new single was still an utter embarrassment (although he was refreshingly direct and honest in his pre-match press conference, eds).
The Farm brought real life, energy and enthusiasm to proceedings - "It's Saturday night, get up will ya" - the audience were ordered, and dutifully obeyed.
Connie Lush belted out a couple of numbers with pizzaz.
The acrobats were hardly Cirque Du Soleil, but were absolutely fine.
And Pete Wylie was, well.... Pete Wylie. (Although irritatingly, we have been singing Heart as Big as Liverpool all day, eds)
The undoubted stars of the show, however, were the Phil, who were absolutely stunning throughout.
Trapped in their Celebrity Squares, they showed consummate professionalism in coping with all the hiccups, pregnant pauses and fluffed beginnings.
The suitably dynamic Vasily Petrenko had total control and was marginally even more impressive than the live-wire signers at the side of the stage.
So well done to the Phil.
The other Phil - Our Lord - wandered on stage at the end to grab his share of the limelight and burnish his ego.
There was absolutely no need for his appearance, but appear he did.
Apart from shouting "We did it" (exactly what has been your precise contribution, Redmond? Aside from hogging headlines in the Echo with stories that never happen and using 2008 as the perfect antidote to the boredom and mid-life ennui caused by your multi-millionaire lifestyle, 15 cars and 35-acre home in Tarporley? eds) Redmond lounged about on stage, mouthed total gibberish (get a speech writer for your Mayoral bid, eds) and introduced his mates.
Fireman Bradley looked on disconsolately.
The Arena show had no cohesive narrative whatsoever, was spectacularly disjointed at times, didn't pay real justice to the Liverpool Irish connection, the Chinese community or the war years; treated the 100 children like serfs (why weren't they allowed on stage for 'All Together Now'? eds) and failed to showcase the full range and diversity of Liverpool's Culture.
But as an earlier correspondent noted, the show was 'alright'. It wasn't a disaster. And it engaged the audience.
It was not mind-bogglingly spectacular, breathtaking or world-beating.
But it was ok.
And after years of CoC cock-ups, mistakes and blunders from the half-wits in charge, just being OK it seems, will now do.
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