Thoughts on Paul McCartney

Well, we finally watched the McCartney documentary on Amazon Prime. It's called Man on the Run and is directed by Morgan Neville (not to be confused with Morgan Fairchild or Morgan Wallen, lol). I would say that it is good, not great. But maybe that's because Sir Paul's post-Beatles career is also good, not great, and there was no way Neville could get around that. (Hey, settle down. I didn't say "bad.") The first thing that strikes you, and this is by intent, is the question of: What the hell do you do next after the Beatles break up and you are Paul Fuckin' McCartney, one half of the most productive rock music creative team in history and one fourth of the greatest band? This also was a huge question for John Lennon. But while Paul and John were burdened by the break up (though they may have claimed differently), George Harrison was liberated, and quickly unloaded the semi-masterpiece All Things Must Pass. I say semi, because I've always felt like it would be better if Phil Spector's production breathed more, and also because some of the songs aren't as good as the best ones. But, hey, it might be the best Beatle solo record of all. Ringo was Ringo, and with nothing to lose, he made some decent records and perfected the art of Being Ringo, which has served him well all these years.

But we're here to talk about McCartney and the documentary. So: Where to begin? Well, how about how the film leans into Sir Paul's "Silly Love Songs." Now, this is one smoking disco cut. I'll give it that. Paul's bass is a masterclass in that pumping disco style, and when the horns come in late in the track it's pretty exhilarating. I always walk around singing that riff after every time I hear the song. (My wife is a saint.) But. But it's not a good song. In fact, it functions as an unintentional "own goal," which makes Neville's choice to highlight it a curious one. He seems to buy McCartney's faith in the song as an effective rebuttal to all those who complained/observed that his post-Beatles work was insubstantial in comparison. He argues that doesn't matter, because people want to hear "silly love songs," and he wants to write them. But this argument rests on a fallacy. People don't want to hear silly love songs. They want to hear great love songs. Like "Yesterday." Like "Here, There, and Everywhere." Look, there's no shame in admitting you can't recapture the magic of the Genius Years. Dylan himself has admitted as much about his own songs. But "Silly Love Songs" tries to make a virtue of it. And it just doesn't hold water. That's the mistake. Neville certainly could have chosen another, better song to feature so prominently, but he went all in on the "silly" angle. Oh, well.

Famously, after the Beatles, McCartney didn't try to compete with himself and. released the lo-fi record, McCartney. It was a bold choice, and it sure put to rest any hesitation about how to proceed. Just make music, and don't think about the past. In preparation for writing this, I listened all the way through the LP. What I heard was that it contained three or four, or maybe five, songs that were top shelf, including, of course, "Maybe I'm Amazed" (one of his best songs ever) and the classical sounding "Junk." What occurred to me was that any number of these songs, if performed and arranged by the Beatles and George Martin, would possibly be pretty good, acceptable Beatles songs. Let's pause here. I think I've always undersold to myself the importance of the Beatles as a performing unit. They actually were great and each person had distinctive sounds on their instruments that together performed a sort of, yes, alchemy that gave everything they touched a transcendent sound. And, of course, their vocal harmonies were sublime and oozing with character. Throw in Martin's genius as a coach and arranger for them, and you get the magic that is the Beatles. "Junk" certainly could have been part of the Beatles canon if had been performed and arranged by them. The upshot is that every Beatles solo record was bound to sound slightly anonymous and workmanlike in comparison to the music performed by the group. This was also the case with Mick and Keith's attempts at solo records recorded independently of the Stones.

Now I would like to turn to what I think may be the most crucial factor in Paul's solo music not ascending as high as it might of. Quite simply, he didn't have John Lennon to co-write with or to run his songs past. If it had been the Beatles, he simply wouldn't even have bothered to show half of the songs on McCartney to Lennon in the first place. He knew what Lennon would say and what he would think and how he had a BS/lameness detector beyond compare. We all edit ourselves in advance depending on who we will be talking to or communicating with. And if they have high standards, then we are motivated to raise our game. And one shouldn't discount the element of competition. For example, when Lennon presented "Strawberry Fields," McCartney knew he had to respond in kind, coming up with his own look at childhood, "Penny Lane." Both songs are masterpieces and among each man's greatest work. They also nicely illustrate the difference between the two as composers. And of course it worked both ways. When McCartney comes up with songs as fresh and exhilarating as "Paperback Writer" or "Eleanor Rigby," Lennon knew that any simply ordinary songs he had cooking just wouldn't cut it. One thing is for sure, Lennon would not have given his stamp of approval to "Silly Love Songs," and if this were the Beatles, McCartney would have just left it in the "working" folder. 

So: What about Wings? Wings were pretty damn good. I remember being at a dorm floor party back when Band on the Run first came out, and they played the record all the way through. It sounded terrific and had good energy for a party vibe. We all know the title cut, which proceeds through several movements in a really compelling manner. And "Jet" is a real keeper. I'm partial to "Let Me Roll It" with its wicked, in-your-face guitar riff. A very good record all in all. A fun record. But it's nowhere in the class of Beatles. I saw the "Wings Over America" tour concert film a few years ago and it was fun and engaging, but the middle part with the Beatles songs was the best part. And here's the thing that's relevant to our discussion are: Paul didn't care. He did indeed just want to have fun, and he wanted to be with his wife Linda. I think that for a long time I thought this was sacrilege. How do you walk away from the Beatles, the greatest band ever, and in the process effectively put an end to the great gift of collective genius and joy they brought to the world, to say that that there will be no more of this?

Well, my thinking here derived from a misunderstanding about life. What I see now is that the thing that matters is the subjective quality of the life you are living and how closely it matches what you hope your life to be. And by '69 or '70, Paul, and John too, and maybe the others, had had enough of being "a Beatle" and living a life that was unreal, even surreal. And more than that, hemmed in by the demands of fame and the burden of expectation. What was it John sang in his first record? "I don't believe in the Beatles"? So, for Paul, everything crystalized when he met Linda, a person he could build a real life with. Here's my take on Linda after watching the documentary. Bottom line: Linda was a cool chick. In an age when women were still too often considered ornamental, Linda was her own person: self-confident, hip to the arts and culture, an accomplished photographer, and someone who could roll with the punches. And she shared Paul's desire for kids and also inspired him to live a quiet life off the grid. Real hippie back to the land stuff. Yes, this was all more important than the Beatles, and I can see now that this was sane. It's interesting that John also partnered up with a self-confident woman who was her own person. Question: Was it a travesty that Paul wanted Linda to be part of the band? No, for three reasons. One, her background vocals were actually good, two, they could bring the kids on tour, and three, this made Paul happy.

Speaking of harmony vocals, everything with the Beatles boils down in the end to the sound of Paul and John singing together. In a way, everything else was decoration. Decoration of vitality and genius, yes, but the sound of Paul and John together and the relationship they developed was the heart of the matter. A crucial factor in this, however, is that they met and became friends and collaborators when they were teenagers. In 1957, when Paul joined John's band, the Quarrymen, he was 15 and John was 16 going on 17. Like so many teen friendships it was inspired by circumstance and a strong shared interest. This was enough to bind them for life, but it also covered over the fact they were very different people. Some of our teen friendships last a lifetime, and many dissolve as we go our separate ways. Paul and John may have made a longer go of it if the Beatles hadn't become the Beatles. Maybe they could have found an equilibrium, balancing personal privacy and group collaboration, but it all was too, too much for this kind of normality. John and Paul betrayed not us, but only our expectations, when they left the Beatles. The gift they left the world is beyond compare. And Paul, he also gave the world the gift of a life lived fully and happily.