Paul McCartney - Man on the run

April 10, 1970. A historic date. Paul McCartney leaves the Beatles. An end long foretold. The greatest group of all time officially no longer exists, torn apart by internal conflicts of a personal, artistic, financial and legal nature. The godfathers of "All You Need Is Love" now communicate with one another only through court filings, scathing interviews and embarrassing statements. The Sixties are over, "the dream is over" sings Lennon in "God"; the season of dreams, of imagination in power, has run its course, and the hour of awakening, of disillusionment, has arrived. They know it. Everyone knows it. The world (not just the younger generation) is in shock. One question echoes in every corner of the globe: "What now?".

The end of the Beatles is an enormous trauma for everyone, but above all for them, the four lads from Liverpool. Weighed down by immense fame and gigantic expectations, disappointed, embittered and forced to always be number one no matter what, the former "mop tops" have to fight hard to move forward and defeat the ghosts of their recent past. On top of that, they are now "alone", without the moral and psychological support of their former bandmates, which leaves them even more fragile and insecure. Paul most of all. After all, he's the one who left. He's the one who put an end to the most glorious and dazzling chapter in pop music history. He's the traitor. Even during his time in the Beatles he was loved and hated in equal measure. Rumoured dead (the P.I.D., or "Paul Is Dead" theories are notorious), considered too sappy and pretty-faced for a rock band, branded an absolute despot and an unbearable contrarian by his own bandmates (especially regarding the choice of manager Allen Klein and Phil Spector's mixing of "Let It Be"), in the early '70s McCartney has to face relentless crossfire. And he responds in his own way. In music, of course.

The lone ram

On April 17, 1970, barely a week after the fateful announcement and about two weeks before the release of "Let It Be", the Beatles' last official album, Paul McCartney unveils his debut work, simply titled McCartney (famous for its cover featuring a bowl of cherries). It's a work heavily shaped by the difficult period its author is going through. In stark contrast to the grandeur of "Abbey Road" and "Sgt. Pepper's" or to Spector's "wall of sound", it's a bare, stripped-back, intimate, largely acoustic album. Recorded for the most part at home and, under the fictitious name Billy Martin, at Abbey Road Studios for a few touch-ups, it includes material that never made it into the Fab Four's official discography. Paul does everything himself. He plays every instrument. His only collaborator is his wife Linda Eastman (Scarsdale, September 24, 1941-Tucson, April 17, 1998), on some backing vocals, but Linda's presence runs through the whole album like an underground river. It's she who helps Paul get through his recent, painful personal and artistic turmoil. Her spirit runs through the entire work, sometimes openly (as in "Lovely Linda") and sometimes more subtly (in "Oo You"), and in the end the record reveals itself to be one long song of love and liberation.

The beauty and dramatic intensity of some of the lyrics, however, clash in places with the bare-bones arrangements, at times so stripped-down they feel almost improvised. It seems more like a demo than the eagerly awaited debut of an ex-Beatle. And yet, alongside instrumental pieces like "Valentine Day" and "Kreen-Akrore", there's room for the excellent "That Would Be Something", where a blues-like riff underlines the author's passion for his muse ("Meet you in the falling rain, momma/ Meet you in the falling rain"); the tormented "Every Night", which chases away the Beatles' ghosts with nothing more than an acoustic guitar ("Every morning brings a new day/ Every night that day is through"); and "Maybe I'm Amazed", perhaps one of the finest McCartney compositions of all. It's the only song on the record with a varied, complex arrangement, in sharp contrast to the other tracks. The use of piano and a vocal performance pushed almost to breaking point (recalling "Why Don't We Do It In The Road" from the "White Album" or "Oh! Darling" from "Abbey Road") heighten the drama of the delicate moment the artist is going through (“Maybe I’m a man/ Maybe I’m a lonely man/ Who’s in the middle of something/ That he doesn’t really understand”) and the importance of Linda's presence in helping him somehow get through it (“Maybe I’m a man and maybe you’re the only woman/ Who could ever help me/ Baby won’t you help me understand”).

Music journalists tear it apart almost immediately. Penny Valentine, for instance, writes in Disc & Music Echo: "I don't know what Paul was thinking when he decided to make this album. He's probably having a laugh at our expense. He may be likeable, but it's a bit cruel, almost like a betrayal". The criticism, in this case, proves overblown, perhaps still smarting from Paul's decision to end the Fab Four chapter.

The record, of course, doesn't have the polish and splendour of a Liverpool quartet recording, but it represents a brave attempt to change course, to explore new sounds and to come to terms with himself. It presents a fragile, emotionally shaken McCartney, yet still full of genius and instrumental mastery, which makes this work rich in charm and full of interesting ideas. Even though fans turn up their noses, it's an album with a clear logic behind it. After so many years in the spotlight, this work represents a forceful reaction to the whirlwind of fame and to Beatles-style megalomania. Paul shuts himself away at home. He steps back from the scene. He prefers to record in total isolation. He wants to lay himself a little bare. To show his other side. John Lennon will do the same eight months later, giving birth to the magnificent and brutal "John Lennon Plastic Ono Band", a work every bit as raw, bare and intimate. Lennon too records with a small lineup (Starr on drums, Voorman on bass, Preston on piano), baring himself in front of a microphone (the famous "Primal Scream" album) and producing songs in sharp contrast to the grandeur of the previous era.

Lennon's album shocks the public just as much, but is better received by critics, partly thanks to the undeniably higher quality of the songs. George Harrison, for his part, after a lifetime spent in the shadows, vents his frustration by releasing, in November of that same year, the monumental and gorgeous “All Things Must Pass”. Ringo, true to his role as the “fourth among such great minds”, puts out, in March '70, “Sentimental Journey”, made up entirely of covers of old songs.

As can be seen, the reactions to the band's breakup are remarkably similar for Lennon and McCartney, by now weary of fame and eager to shift their perspective for good. At ease in self-imposed exile, Paul, together with his wife Linda, treats himself to a long stretch of time off at his farm in Scotland, far from London high society and media clamour. Here, in contact with nature and reinvigorated by country life, he writes new material that will flow into an album whose title suits his new condition as a farmer perfectly: Ram.

The ghosts of the past have been banished, and now Macca means business. Recorded in New York with highly respected musicians such as Danny Seiwell on drums, David Spinozza and Hugh McCracken on guitars, Ram is a very multifaceted, many-sided work that showcases the author's renewed compositional, artistic and technical vigour. It opens with the polemical “Too Many People”, in which Paul takes aim at everyone who had attacked him up to that point (“Too many people preaching practices/ Don’t let them tell you what you wanna be/ Too many people holding back, this is/ Crazy and maybe it’s not like me”); then moves on to the blues of “3 Legs”, in which, through the metaphor of a three-legged dog, the Beatles question is touched upon once again (“A dog is here/ A dog is there/ My dog, he got three legs/ But he can’t run”); and arrives at the thoroughly delightful “Ram On”, built entirely around the delicate sound of a ukulele.

The splendid and cryptic “Dear Boy” (it's unclear whether it refers to Lennon or to Linda's first marriage) gives rise to a good deal of controversy (“I guess you never knew, dear boy/ What you had found”), but at the same time paves the way for the album's true gem, “Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey”, a worthy heir to the best compositions on “Sgt. Pepper's”. In this track Paul revives the old Beatles trick of skilfully stitching together two distinct songs. The first, “Uncle Albert”, is inspired by one of his uncles and is marked by a very languid, dreamy rhythm, over which simple but effective lines are laid (“We’re so sorry Uncle Albert/ We’re so sorry if we caused you any pain/ We’re so sorry Uncle Albert/ But there’s no one left at home/ And I believe I’m gonna rain”); the second tells the story of an American admiral, William “Bull” Halsey, over a far more driving, cadenced, almost martial rhythm (“Admiral Halsey notified me/ He had to have a berth or he couldn’t get to sea/ I had another look and I had a cup of tea and butter pie”). The long instrumental coda, the use of brass, the choral vocals, the sound effects and the tempo changes amaze even his former bandmates and the public, who make the song a hit.

In Ram, though, there's still room for the folk of “In The Heart Of The Country”, the rock japery of “Smile Away”, the tender ballads “Long Haired Lady” (with its “Hey Jude”-style ending) and “Back Seat Of My Car”, the boogie of “Eat At Home”, and above all the nonsense of “Monkberry Moon Delight”, marked by a heavily shouted vocal performance and wordplay worthy of peak Lennon. Preceded by the release of a single with a decidedly explicit title, “Another Day”/“Oh Woman Oh Why”, which doesn't appear on the final tracklist and wins Paul back the fans' favour, Ram hits the market on 28 May 1971.

Critics once again prove hostile, calling the album shamelessly commercial, overproduced and, once again, not up to par. The music press, however, gets it spectacularly wrong, because this work marks Paul's triumphant entry into the Seventies, demonstrating all his inspiration, his command of different musical languages and his exceptional technical and instrumental skill. Even though his former bandmates themselves appear disappointed with the record, the public makes it a hit, sending it to the top of both the British and American charts.

Indeed, Ram is pure McCartney. It's his most representative work, both musically and poetically. It contains all of his genius, his skill, his style: the sumptuous strings, the blazing brass, the magical piano and harmonious guitar arpeggios. Over it all, the unmistakable tone of his Rickenbacker bass, tracing absolutely gorgeous lines and phrases. In the case of Ram, the parallels with Lennon's career become downright legendary. Four months later, in September 1971, his alter ego releases “Imagine”, perhaps his most celebrated album, which contains explicit references to, but also clear dissonances with, Paul's record. Lennon produces a markedly “Spectorian” album, while McCartney makes a “Martin-esque” one, that is, more faithful to the typical Abbey Road sound, as if to underline the by now irreconcilable artistic differences between the two. Moreover, Lennon takes particular aim at Ram, even going so far as to mock its cover (inside the “Imagine” packaging there's a photo of John spoofing Paul by holding a pig by the ears), since, in his view, the record contains numerous allusions to him and his partner Yoko Ono, which he considers highly offensive. The bone of contention: the songs “Too Many People”, “3 Legs” and “Dear Boy”, in which Paul is said to have slipped in several jabs aimed at his former friend (“You took your lucky break and broke it in two”), and the back cover, which depicts two beetles mating. John, stung to the quick, hits back with the corrosive “How Do You Sleep?”, a full-blown anti-McCartney tirade, pure venom and spite (“The only thing you done was yesterday/ And since you’re gone you’re just another day/ Ah, how do you sleep?”).

Despite the controversy, Ram, like Imagine, contains great songs, superbly produced. Over time it is widely reassessed and understood, to the point of becoming a million seller. For Paul, though, the time for studio sessions is over. It's time to get back on the road, to rediscover that connection with the audience so abruptly cut off in 1966, and to do so he chooses the riskiest path, artistically speaking: founding a new band.

Paul spreads his wings

The day after the release of Ram, in the summer of 1971, Paul gets back to work. Now determined to form a new band, he finds a valuable ally in Denny Laine (Birmingham – 29 October 1944), formerly of the Moody Blues and a multi-instrumentalist with notable experience in Ginger Baker's Air Force and the Electric String Band. The two, after recruiting Danny Seiwell on drums, put together an initial repertoire at the “Rude Studio” (a small rehearsal space set up in the garden of McCartney's Scottish farm), before heading to Abbey Road to record their debut album.

After a promotional party held at the Empire Ballroom in London on 8 November 1971, Wild Life, the newborn Wings' first work, comes out in December. Recorded in just two weeks, with no technical trickery whatsoever, the album is an attempt to reproduce the band's sound and spontaneity as faithfully as possible. Five of the eight tracks are captured live in the studio, which gives the sound a deliberately raw, rough, minimal quality. The tracklist is designed to be reproduced faithfully on stage, the arrangements are simple, the melodies immediate, so much so that it almost feels more like a bootleg than a finished work. It's an anti-post-Beatles record, somewhat “hybrid” and unsuccessful, whose sole purpose was to put together a decent set to play live. The songs on Ram were impossible to reproduce on stage given their complexity, while those on the first solo album were too simple and intimate to be played by a rock band. So what to do? Dash off a debut album to take out on tour. The record, however, suffers from the haste and sloppiness with which it was conceived, written and recorded, coming across as uneven, slapdash and at times bland.

Almost no song in the tracklist has the strength and beauty needed to wow the fans, and even the studio sessions reveal the limits of a band still searching for its chemistry. Despite reassuring sales, this time critics aren't wrong to dismiss the album, which is branded incomplete, half-baked and devoid of any standout tracks. The sole exception is “Dear Friend”, which comes from the prolific Ram sessions. The “dear friend” is, once again, John Lennon, to whom Paul addresses heartfelt words of reconciliation (“Dear friend, throw the wine/ I’m in love with a friend of mine/ Really truly, young and newly wed/ Are you a fool or is it true?”), underscored by the bare essentials of piano and voice, joined by a delicate bed of strings. The rest of the album is fairly forgettable; tracks like “Mumbo”, “Bip Bop”, “Love Is Strange” and “Tomorrow” will gradually be forgotten even by the most devoted fans and never played live again.

This resounding flop shakes the band, who, in order to recover, recruit guitarist Henry McCullough (Portstewart – 21 July 1943), a former member of Joe Cocker's Grease Band, and set off, as planned, on a mini-tour of British university campuses, followed by a series of concerts across Europe. On this occasion, Wings play exclusively songs from their unsuccessful first album, carefully avoiding any Beatles material. Some dates are cancelled due to poor attendance.

The tour's failure pushes the band to try, by any means necessary, to win back the favour of the music world: they do so by releasing, on 25 February 1972, the single “Give Ireland Back To The Irish”, clearly inspired by the bloody events in Derry that went down in history as “Bloody Sunday”. The political commitment (perhaps the only song of social criticism Paul ever wrote) and the BBC's ban on the track, however, don't bring the hoped-for results. The single, also due to the hostility it meets in Britain, sells poorly; critics snub it as excessively provocative and contrived. Paul, unlike Lennon, learns the hard way that protest songs just aren't for him. In response, he dusts off and rearranges a children's classic, “Mary Had A Little Lamb”, which, released as a single on 12 May 1972, unexpectedly reaches the UK Top 10. In the wake of its release, a storm of controversy breaks out among industry insiders, as a product of this kind is seen as a genuine mockery coming from a musician of McCartney's calibre. American DJs even prefer to play the B-side, “Little Woman Love”, on the radio instead.

Given the lack of results and recognition, Paul turns decisively toward crowd-pleasing pop, keeping a close eye on the musical trends of the moment. He writes and records “Hi Hi Hi”, built on a musical backdrop close to the glam rock of Slade and T-Rex, paired with deliberately spicy, suggestive lyrics (“I’m gonna do it to you, gonna do it/ Sweet banana, you’ll never give up/ We’re gettin’ Hi Hi Hi in the midday sun”). Released as a single in December 1972, the track earns Paul a second BBC ban over alleged allusions to sex and drugs. The B-side features “C'Moon”, a light, dreamy song with a clear reggae feel. Sales are substantial. Both songs reach the top ten in both Britain and the United States. At this point the ex-Beatle makes an important decision: to change the band's name. Clearly the Wings brand has little pull with the public, so he decides to rebrand it with the grander “Paul McCartney And Wings”, boosting its commercial potential on one hand, but reducing its independence on the other. The turning point, however, isn't long in coming. Paul and Wings head off to Los Angeles to work on material that would go on to form a new album of original songs.

Originally conceived as a double album, Red Rose Speedway contains songs written during the sessions for Ram as well as a long closing medley with a clear Beatles-esque stamp. The album's standout track is the gorgeous ballad "My Love" which, as the title suggests, is another tribute to his wife Linda (“Don’t ever ask me why/ I never say goodbye to my love/ It’s understood/ It’s everywhere with my love/ And my love does it good”). The simplicity of the words takes a back seat to the power of the melody and the beauty of the piano-and-strings arrangement. Another fascinating track is "Big Barn Bed", which, despite repetitive, nonsense-leaning lyrics (“Who’s that coming round that corner, will it be my friend/ Keep on sleeping in a big barn bed/ Keep on sleeping in a big barn bed”), boasts a strikingly forceful rock arrangement and beautifully executed vocal harmonies. The thoroughly enjoyable "Only One More Kiss", marked by easily digestible lyrics (“Only one more kiss/ I didn’t mean to hurt you little girl/ Let’s make it one to remember/ only one more kiss”) and a faintly country-tinged groove, serves as a counterpoint to the more dreamlike, delicate tracks such as "Little Lamb Dragonfly", "Single Pigeon" and "When The Night". McCartney delivers one final flourish with the closing medley, made up of four songs — "Hold Me Tight", "Lazy Dynamite", "Hands Of Love" and "Power Cut" — a true pop gem thanks to its complex, kaleidoscopic musical weave.

Completed at Olympic Studios in London, Red Rose Speedway is the album that cemented his comeback. Released on 4 May 1973, it reached number one in the US and number five in the UK. This unanimous commercial success stemmed from genuinely strong material, not just the drafting effect of one chart-smashing single. Careful production and the deft touch of a sound engineer like Alan Parsons did the rest. The reviews, once again, were divided. Dud or masterpiece? Clearly critics found it intrinsically hard to come to terms with the ex-Fab Four member's new direction. It is, without doubt, an ambitious work, unlike Wild Life, but it's also a great showcase for his songwriting. The shortcomings of the Wings' debut are swept away by meticulous production and constant attention to the smallest details. Paul bounces back strongly from his previous misstep with a work full of atmosphere and less Beatles-like than before. Red Rose Speedway is a fine example of pop music, pleasant to listen to, tailor-made for radio and perfect for live shows. The album's quality isn't top-tier, but it certainly stands as one of the best chapters in McCartney's solo career.

This moment of grace is confirmed by a television special produced by ATV in March 1973, simply titled "James Paul McCartney", during which, for the first time in years, several Beatles songs are performed alongside more recent hits. Broadcast in the US on 16 April and in Britain a month later, the programme gives Paul and his bandmates the chance to introduce the world to their latest effort: "Live And Let Die", a strikingly powerful composition chosen as the theme for the James Bond film of the same name. Recorded at Air Studios in London during the Red Rose Speedway sessions, the track is the result of a renewed collaboration between Paul and his old friend George Martin, hired by the film's producers to oversee the soundtrack. The result of this reunion is, once again, first-rate. Lyrics centred on change (“When you were young and your heart was an open book/ You used to say live and let live/ But if this ever-changing world in which we’re living/ Makes you give in and cry/ Say live and let die”), constant shifts in tempo, majestic brass explosions and torrential percussion drive the rhythm of both the song and the film.

Released as a single the following June, "Live And Let Die" takes Wings straight to number 2 on the US chart and number 9 in Britain, becoming both the most successful theme in the saga's history (surpassing "Goldfinger") and one of the most admired and frequently played songs of McCartney's post-Beatles career.

The triumph is finally sealed by a dazzling UK tour, with shows at Leeds University and London's Hammersmith Odeon. But it isn't all smooth sailing. At the end of the tour, Denny Seiwell and Henry McCullough both quit, effectively reducing the band to a trio. Despite the lineup troubles, Paul decides to press on with the work and, tired of London, sets off in search of a new location. After discovering that EMI had a recording studio in Lagos, Nigeria, and encouraged by the fact that Ginger Baker (Lewisham, 19 August 1939) had been living there for several years, he decides to relocate there with the only two surviving Wings. The conditions he finds in Africa are far from ideal. Lagos is a sprawling, dangerous shantytown; the studio is run-down and the equipment inadequate; on top of that, after being robbed on the city streets, Paul finds himself embroiled in a kind of "diplomatic incident" with Black-music guru Fela Kuti (Abeokuta, 15 October 1938 – Lagos, 2 August 1997), who publicly accuses him of coming to plunder African music. Only after a none-too-friendly confrontation (Kuti was apparently armed) and only once he'd listened to the recorded tracks, does the king of Afrobeat admit he was wrong.

To avoid further interference, Baker invites the group to continue their work at his own facility, Arc Studios in Ikeja. Wings, however, decline the invitation, settling for a courtesy visit during which they record "Picasso's Last Words (Drink To Me)". Despite the difficulties, most of the new material is recorded in Lagos between August and September 1973 and polished off at Air Studios in London in October. Preceded by the solid single "Helen Wheels"/"Country Dreamer", which cracks the Top 10, Band On The Run is released the following December.

It's an album with an essentially rock foundation, which Paul McCartney's genius skilfully laces with pop flavours and African undertones. Almost every track radiates a primal, devastating energy that sweeps the listener into an incredible whirlwind of sounds and sensations. The delicate arpeggio that opens the title track evokes the calm before violent equatorial downpours, which in musical terms erupt via the thick sound of a twelve-string guitar and lyrics loaded with meaning (“Well, the rain exploded with a mighty crash/ As we fell into the sun/ And the first one said to the second one there/ I hope you’re having fun”). Once again, tempo shifts give the song considerable force, while the catchy chorus brands both the track and the album as a whole. A thundering horn section opens the explosive "Jet", perhaps the album's most forceful track. The thumping bass, torrential drums and distorted guitars drive a demonic rhythm over which sit lyrics with little poetic weight but undeniable musical impact (“Jet was your father as bold as the sergeant major/ How come he told you that you were hardly old enough yet/ And jet I thought the major was a lady suffragette”). The sultry African nights return on the translucent "Bluebird", a soft ballad built around acoustic guitar, percussion and three-part harmonies. Here the words take on a deeper meaning, evoking a bird's flight as a symbol of absolute freedom (“Fly away through the midnight air/ As we head across the sea/ And at last we will be free”). A hammering bass riff dominates "Mrs Vandebilt", marked by a steady beat and an infectious chorus, while a sharper edge characterises "Let Me Roll It", whose lyrics reveal fervent declarations of love (“I can’t tell you how I feel/ My heart is like a wheel/ Let me roll it/ Let me roll it to you”). The scent of Africa pervades the sweet "Mamunia", where a delicate acoustic guitar arpeggio, backed by simple bass lines and understated percussion, highlights lyrics dedicated to the rain and its purifying power (“So the next time you see rain it ain’t bad/ Don’t complain it rains for you/The next time you see L.A. rainclouds/ Don’t complain it rains for you and me”).

The splendid "No Words", also credited to Denny Laine, paves the way for "Picasso's Last Words (Drink To Me)", another standout on the album, inspired by the final words the great painter, who had recently died, is said to have spoken on his deathbed ("Drink to me, drink to my health/ You know i can't drink any more"). Musically, this track is yet another display of great craftsmanship and compositional talent, incorporating a French interlude and a reprise of "Jet" and "Mrs. Vandebilt" without significantly altering their original melody and rhythm. A real stroke of genius. The album closes with the rock of "Nineteen Hundred And Eighty-Five", whose instrumental coda revisits the title track, thus bringing the record full circle.

Needless to say, this is a truly great album, a masterpiece, arguably the finest of McCartney's entire solo career and one of the best records ever made by an ex-Beatle. The tracklist shows songs that are essentially balanced against one another, in a perfect alternation of rock, ballads and pop gems, never slipping into the commercial, the predictable or the conventional. It's not a record made out of obligation or to please critics and audiences alike, but the fruit of a long personal and artistic process through which its author worked through and moved beyond his recent past. Band On The Run marks Paul McCartney's definitive liberation from the Beatles' shadow. Its cover, showing the band caught in the act of a prison break surrounded by star cameos (Christopher Lee and James Coburn chief among them), has become downright legendary.

Warmly received by both audiences and critics, Band On The Run doesn't post blockbuster sales right away, but gradually climbs the charts, propelled by the undeniable quality of its songs, which slowly but surely win listeners over. Platinum certifications aren't long in coming, while the weeks spent at the top of the Billboard chart keep piling up. Paul has struck gold again.

Rockshow

The fertile creative streak hasn't run dry yet. Having recruited guitarist Jimmy McCulloch (Dumbarton, 4 June 1953 – Maida Vale, 27 September 1979) and drummer Geoff Britton (Lewisham, 1 August 1943), the band records a new single during sessions in Nashville, "Junior's Farm"/"Sally G.", which, released in October 1974, sits comfortably near the top of the charts, confirming the group's happy artistic and commercial run (especially in the United States). The time has come, however, to take the definitive step up. Wings, armed with a good batch of demos, head off to New Orleans to record the eagerly awaited follow-up to Band On The Run. During the recording sessions, Britton leaves the group due to friction with McCulloch; he is immediately replaced by Joe English (Rochester, 7 February 1949), who plays on almost all the tracks on the new album.

Preceded by the single "Listen To What The Man Said"/"Love In Song", another sure-fire bestseller, Venus And Mars comes out in May '75. The result falls well short of expectations, especially compared with its predecessor. It lacks bite and musical quality, although there are a few notable moments. Particularly interesting is the intro "Venus And Mars", which segues into the energetic "Rockshow", packed with self-references (“If there’s a rock show at the Concertgebow/ They’ve got long hair at the Madison Square/ You’ve got Rock and Roll at the Hollywood Bowl”). The pairing works a treat, thanks to the mellow pace of the first track giving way to the thunderous explosion of the second. Here the band is truly firing on all cylinders, as they are on the album's lead track, "Listen To What The Man Said", an effective song about love with pop-soul leanings (“Oh yes, indeed we know/ That people will find a way to go/ No matter what the man said”). The keyboard-based arrangement is particularly well-crafted, topped off with a striking soprano sax solo. A classic "McCartney-style" track, capable of topping any chart.

Another notable moment comes in the sweltering rock of "Letting Go", where a decidedly rough electric-guitar melodic line is joined by excellent horn and string interplay. This time the lyrics speak more explicitly about passion for a woman (“Ah, she tastes like wine/ Such a human being so divine/ Oh she feels like sun/ Mother nature look at what you’re done”). The rest of the material is disappointing, especially when it comes to the songwriting contributions from Denny Laine ("Spirit Of Ancient Egypt") and McCulloch ("Medicine Jar").

The album never really takes off, even though it was meant to serve as Wings' international launching pad. Critics and audiences, however, seem to rate it more highly than it deserves, clearly riding on the enthusiasm generated by the previous record.

The band releases two more singles, “Letting Go”/“You Gave Me The Answer” and “Venus And Mars-Rock Show”/“Magneto And Titanium Man” (both minor hits at best), and sets out on a massive tour. The Wings Over The World Tour spans three continents and 48 cities for a total of 66 dates. After nearly ten years away, Paul returns to the stage in the New World, playing to an estimated total of 600,000 spectators. The best performances from the US dates are captured on the monumental triple album Wings Over America, released just before Christmas 1976.

It's during the tour's Christmas break that the band returns to Abbey Road Studios to record Wings At The Speed Of Sound, an extremely ambitious project meant to match and even surpass the success of its predecessors. The record, if anything, does even worse. Conceived as a kind of concept album centred on a typical day in the life of the Wings — by now one of the most celebrated rock bands on the planet — it turns out to be nothing more than a hodgepodge of uneven material completely lacking in inspiration. One of its few bright spots is “Let 'Em In”, a track with soul and r'n'b overtones. Once again the lyrics deal with love, name-dropping illustrious figures including John Lennon, Martin Luther King and the Everly Brothers (“Sister Suzie, brother John,/ Martin Luther, Phil and Don/ brother Michael, auntie Gin/ Open the door and let ‘em in”). The lively, steady rhythm makes the song thoroughly enjoyable, helped along by tasteful sound effects and some nice horn section flourishes.

Another decent track is the charming “Silly Love Songs”, written by McCartney in response to all those who accused him of only writing “silly love songs”. The lyrics are extremely simple, bordering on banal (“You’d think that people would have had enough of silly love songs/ I look around me and i see it isn’t so/ Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs/ And what’s wrong with that?”), but musically it's an interesting excursion into disco territory, complete with a thumping bassline, strings, backing vocals and horns.

The rest of the material on the album is utterly forgettable. The principles of equality and democracy Paul introduced within the band fail to bear the hoped-for fruit. The tracks written by the other members (“Wino Junko” by Jimmy McCulloch, “Time To Hide” by Denny Laine, “Must Do Something About It”, sung by Joe English, or the abominable “Cook Of The House” by Linda McCartney) fail to rise to the occasion, further weakening an already underwhelming record.

Released in March 1976, Wings At The Speed Of Sound nonetheless proves a considerable commercial success, though critics are far less forgiving. Deemed overly sentimental and commercial, it is generally singled out as one of the lowest points in McCartney's entire output. Once the album is out, Wings hit the road again, wrapping up the world tour with three nights in London at the end of '76.

1977 is a transitional year. McCartney and co. face new lineup troubles following the sudden departures of Jimmy McCulloch and Joe English. Reduced once again to a trio, Wings don't remain entirely inactive, releasing the single “Mull Of Kintyre”, an excellent folk-tinged track that within a few weeks becomes the best-selling single of all time in the UK. A remarkable feat, given that this is the height of the punk era, and the music on this single — complete with bagpipes courtesy of the local Kintyre band — is about as far removed as possible from the musical trends of the time.

Sticking to their guns and buoyed by their unshakeable success, Wings release London Town in March 1978, marked by even more commercial sounds that run against the grain of contemporary trends. It's definitely a step up from Wings At The Speed Of Sound, but it lacks the edge needed to make it a truly great record. The sound softens, moving away from rock towards a highly sophisticated and effective pop. The melancholy watercolour of the title track, depicting a dreamlike, rainy London (“Crawling down the pavement on a Sunday afternoon/ I was arrested by a rozzer wearing a pink balloon/ About his foot – toot toot toot toot/ Silver rain was falling down/ Upon the dirty ground of London Town”), has its greyness heightened by an arrangement built around electric piano, over which a soft, delicate vocal is laid. The saccharine “Girlfriend” and the invective of “I've Had Enough”, in which the author takes aim at his detractors (“I earn the money and you take it away/ When I don’t know where you from/I should be worried but they say/ It will pay for a farm/ I’ve had enough, I can’t put up with any more”), pave the way for the synthesizers of “With A Little Luck”, the album's flagship track. The Bee Gees-style harmonies, the relaxed mood, and the immediate, optimistic lyrics (“And a little luck, we can clear it up/ We can bring it in for a landing/ With a little luck, we can turn it on/ There can be no misunderstanding”) make it a dazzling hit.

Other thoroughly enjoyable moments can be found in “Backwards Traveller”, the solitary “I'm Carrying”, the rockabilly of “Name And Address” and the progressive tones of “Morse Moose and The Grey Goose”. Recorded between London and the Virgin Islands (aboard a yacht called the “Fair Carol”) with the by-then ex-members Jimmy McCulloch and Joe English, this album is excessively steeped in the relaxed atmosphere provided by its exotic location, and while impeccably recorded and produced, it adds nothing new either to McCartney's discography or to the music scene of the time.

Due to the destructive wave of punk and poor promotion, sales fall short of expectations. Critics, too, prove far less forgiving than anticipated. Over the years, however, the record will be widely reassessed, eventually coming to be regarded as the band's best work since Band On The Run.

Disappointed by the poor publicity and clumsy marketing of both the “Mull Of Kintyre” single and the London Town album on the American market, McCartney terminates his contract with Capitol Records and signs with Columbia. After recruiting two new members, drummer Steve Holley (London — 1954) and guitarist Laurence Juber (London — 12 November 1952), Paul sets to work on new material, trying to steer Wings away from their overly soft musical style.

Opting for a much rawer sound and a considerably more rustic setting to record in (the Scottish countryside), the band produces what was meant to be their comeback record: Back To The Egg. Released in June 1979 and buoyed by the modest success of the disco-flavoured single “Goodnight Tonight”/“Daytime Nightime Suffering” (Lennon declares himself unimpressed by “Goodnight Tonight”, though he admits it has a great bassline), the album falls short of expectations despite the best of intentions and a star-studded cast. The shift in direction is immediately apparent on “Reception”, a kind of instrumental intro leading into “Getting Closer”, a rock track built around a terrific bass line. This time the lyrics are less saccharine, fitting well with the music's enjoyability (“Hitting the chisel and making a joint/ Gluing my fingers together/ Radio play me a song with a point/ Sailor beware of weather”). “Spit It On” is another furious punk-style romp with explicit sexual references (“Spin it on, don’t stop/ Take it back to the top/ ‘Cause I’ve got another lot of love for you/ That’s why I spin it on wanna/ Spin it on”), while “Old Siam Sir” is a raw-sounding track with overt political references (“In a village in Old Siam, sir, there's a lady who's lost her way/ In an effort to find a man, sir, she found herself in the old UK”). Disappointing is the utopian experiment of an all-star band which, despite boasting prominent names from the international music scene such as David Gilmour, John Paul Jones, John Bonham, Hank Marvin and Pete Townshend, fails to live up to its enormous potential.

The track “Rockestra Theme” comes across as muddled and uninspired, almost like a jam session. Also weak are “To You”, “After The Ball/Million Miles”, “Winter Rose/Love Awake” and “The Broadcast”, which veer towards a by-the-numbers pop that's quite effective but also fairly bland. Things pick up noticeably towards the end, where more contemporary sounds resurface on “So Glad To See You Here” and “Baby's Request”, with its evident jazzy nuances.

Despite McCartney's efforts to keep Wings firmly anchored to the times, the results never materialise. The album feels “forced”, lacking spontaneity and, above all, cohesion. Even the attempt at a “superhuman” band, dubbed Rockestra, fails miserably, leading to no follow-up. Public approval duly arrives, but critics prove more disappointed than ever, going so far as to deem the album pretentious and pointless. Rolling Stone journalist Timothy White describes Back To The Egg as “just about the sorriest grab bag of dreck in recent memory” (Rolling Stone, 23 August 1979).

Shifting trends and an undeniable lack of inspiration suddenly made Wings seem out of step with the times, outdated enough to push their founder towards a new path.

Alone again

As had already happened with the Beatles, McCartney essentially decreed the end of Wings as a musical entity. Having once again retreated to his Scottish farm, Paul began writing and recording new material in total solitude, songs that would make up his new "solo" work. In May 1980, McCartney II arrived as a surprise release, an unusual and in some ways startling record. Unlike the recent Wings output and Macca's typical style, it's a thoroughly experimental album, with no concern whatsoever for sales or easy melodies. Guitars and drums are temporarily set aside to make room for synthesizers and electronic textures.

The musical and lyrical vitality of "Coming Up" ("⟦Q1⟧") is underscored by heavy use of the synthesizer, vari-speed vocal treatment, and a simple yet effective bass riff. The result is a curious, fascinating blend of funk, disco and pop. In "Temporary Secretary", the greyness of the English middle class is conveyed through sounds that seem to come straight out of a computer and a robotic voice.

Even the lyrics grow sharper, drawing on the British employment crisis of the late Seventies (“Ah, but Mister Marks I won’t need her long/ All I need is help for a little while/ We can take dictation and learn to smile/ And a temporary secretary is what I need for to do the job”). "On The Way" is the only track where the synths disappear and classic instrumentation returns, while the fluid "Waterfall" carries Paul's Beatles-esque style straight into the Eighties. Electric piano and keyboards blend beautifully with acoustic guitar and a voice that, this time, is free of effects. The lyrics take on a dreamlike quality as they sketch out a need for tender, delicate love (“And I need love, yeah, I need love/ Like a second needs an hour/ Like a raindrop needs a shower/ Yeah, i need love every minute of the day/ And it wouldn’t be the same if you ever should decide to go away”). The elementary rock of "Nobody Knows", both in its raw recording quality and in the meaning of its lyrics, clashes with the frankly excessive wealth of effects on "Front Parlour", a purely instrumental piece.

The excellent "Summer's Day Song", with its long, slow-paced musical interlude, paves the way for "Frozen Jap", a pounding, hypnotic musical outburst. Macca's heavily effected voice dominates "Bogey Music", which, as the title suggests, is a boogie-based divertissement, while "Darkroom" explores sexual urges (“Got a place/ We can go/ Lights are low/ Let me show you to my darkroom”) through explicit lyrics set over a monotone backing. The album closes with the gem "One Of This Days". No strange effects here, just Paul, his guitar, and extraordinarily poetic lyrics (“One of these days/ When my feet are on the ground/ I’m gonna look around and see/ See what’s right, see what’s there/ And breathe fresh air, ever after”).

This is certainly an unusual, bold, misunderstood album, but also a rather rough one, perhaps due to McCartney's limited familiarity with new sounds and instruments. It alternates moments that are utterly baffling with others of great music, anticipating the sounds that would define the coming decade. The press, once again, shows its distaste for this new release and tears the record apart, branding it overly amateurish and unnatural. The fans, however, reward all that good will, driving the album to the top of the UK charts.

1980, however, proves to be a fairly troubled year for Sir Paul. On January 16th, at the start of the tour of Japan, he is arrested in Tokyo for possession of marijuana and serves nine days in prison. On December 8th, John Lennon is murdered by Mark David Chapman, an enormous blow for Paul McCartney, who understandably begins to develop a kind of paranoia about contact with the public. It's precisely this temporary refusal to perform live that causes an irreparable rift with Denny Laine, who abandons the group in April 1981, definitively closing the Wings chapter.

Paul doesn't lose heart, and takes refuge in the friendship and collaboration of old comrades Ringo Starr and George Martin, rediscovering a decent amount of inspiration along the way. The result is a hugely successful album, Tug Of War, boasting star cameos from the likes of Carl Perkins and Stevie Wonder. Released in April 1982, Tug Of War shoots straight to the top of charts across much of the world thanks to the overwhelming success of "Ebony And Ivory", a pop song built around ideas of racial integration and tolerance (“Ebony and ivory/ Live together in perfect harmony/ Side by side on my piano keyboard/ Oh Lord, why don’t we?”), written and sung together with the African-American artist. "Take It Away", on the other hand, starts off with a reggae beat before exploding into sparkling rock; the lyrics nostalgically recall the good yet difficult times of the early days of his career (“In the audience, watching the show/ With a paper in his hand/ (In his hand, in his hand)/ Some important impresario/ Has a message for the band”), while the drumming of Steve Gadd and Ringo Starr provides a thrilling rhythm.

"Here Today" is McCartney's moving farewell to his friend and bandmate John Lennon, who had recently passed away. The raw emotion of the lyrics (“But as for me/ I still remember how it was before/ And I am holding back these tears no more”) is underscored by an arrangement of acoustic guitar and strings that strongly recalls the Beatles' masterpiece "Eleanor Rigby". The majestic "Wanderlust", whose title is drawn from the Caribbean home of Paul and Linda from the days of London Town, is a hymn to freedom (“Light out wanderlust/ Help us to be free/ Light out wanderlust/ Do it just for me, wanderlust”) underlined by a grand, sweeping orchestral arrangement. Carl Perkins lends his presence to the playful "Get It", while "Dress Me Up As A Robber", with its frantic rhythm, is another fine foray into straight-up disco territory.

The presence of excellent songs and the great chemistry with the guests make Tug Of War a fully successful record, without doubt one of the best in Paul McCartney's vast solo discography. This time, the shifting between different musical styles is a sign of a creative purple patch that rewards the fans for the shock of McCartney II. Even the trade press, usually stingy with compliments, is immediately enthusiastic, going so far as to call the record a masterpiece.

Since collaborations are going down well with the public, it's time for a new partnership: enter Michael Jackson. The ex-Beatle and the "King of Pop" trade favors, duetting on three tracks: the saccharine "The Girl Is Mine", which ends up on "Thriller", and "Say Say Say" and "The Man", which find a home on 1983's Pipes Of Peace. Although it represents a step back from Tug Of War, this latter album confirms McCartney's good run of form, winning back both public and critical favour thanks to classy, polished, radio-friendly pop capable of effortlessly climbing the charts around much of the world.

The title track immediately becomes a classic thanks to a highly catchy melody and lyrics championing universal pacifism (“I light a candle to our love/ In love our problems disappear/ But all in all we soon discover/ That one and one is all we long to hear”). "Say Say Say" shows the perfect interplay between Paul and Jacko, who, despite singing on the same theme, manage to keep their own styles fully intact. The pounding, disco-flavored rhythm provides just the right backdrop for the two voices, which interact masterfully, proving to be a winning pairing. The lyrics aren't especially deep, limiting themselves to describing the pain of unrequited love (“All alone/ I sit home by the phone/ Waiting for you, baby/ Through the years/ How can you stand to hear/ My pleading for ya dear/ You know I’m cryin”). Of a very different caliber is the melancholy ballad "So Bad", marked by McCartney's magnificent falsetto. It's an excellent piece of songwriting, with Seventies-style touches in its use of backing vocals and keyboards. Love is once again the protagonist, this time not unrequited but passionate (“And if you leave, my pain will go/ But that’s no good to me/ Girl, I love you, yes, I love you so bad”).

The other duet with Jackson, "The Man", has decidedly less appeal than "Say Say Say", even if its listenability is beyond question, while "Tug Of Peace" contains a self-quotation from the previous album, creating a kind of ideal continuum between the two records. The considerable quality of these tracks makes Pipes Of Peace, on the whole, a good album, well produced and well played, even if perhaps with an excessive eye on the charts. It lacks creative peaks or dazzling innovation; instead, it offers a comfortable musical "routine" capable of guaranteeing visibility and success.

After a period of well-deserved rest, broken only by his appearance at Live Aid in 1985 with "Let It Be" and the composition of a track, "Spies Like Us", for the soundtrack of the film of the same name starring Dan Aykroyd and Chevy Chase, McCartney once again wrong-foots both the public and the critics by diving into a bizarre project that is frankly beyond his means. Constantly on the hunt for new territory, Paul this time turns to cinema, embarking on a venture that was meant to produce both a film and a soundtrack, but which in reality turns out to be one of the biggest failures of his entire career. Give My Regards To Broad Street, released in October 1984, fails to win over audiences at the box office due to its nonexistent plot, while the soundtrack, cannily blending tracks from Tug Of War and Pipes Of Peace with a handful of Beatles classics ("Here, There And Everywhere", "Yesterday", "Eleanor Rigby", "For No One", "The Long And Winding Road"), achieves modest success. The only new addition is the excellent "No More Lonely Nights", enriched by a David Gilmour solo and particularly inspired lyrics (“May I never miss the thrill/ Of being near you?/ And if it takes a couple of years to turn your tears to laughter”).

After two remarkable releases, Macca suddenly loses his way, trying to achieve maximum results with minimum effort. There's a clear dip in inspiration and considerable difficulty keeping up with the times. Critics, unsurprisingly, tear apart both the album and the film, dismissing them as pointless and senseless.

Shaky on his feet after the drubbing given to Give My Regards To Broad Street, Macca looks for a new way to modernize his music and adapt it to the shifting tastes of young listeners. To do so, he enlists producer Hugh Padgham, who had already worked with Police, Genesis, Peter Gabriel, XTC, and 10cc guitarist Eric Stewart. The result is the ambiguous Press To Play, released in September 1986. Questionable, superficially experimental, and unsuccessful, this album is generally regarded as Paul McCartney's worst work, due to the poor blending of modern sounds with old-fashioned melodies. There's no shortage of illustrious guests (Pete Townshend, Phil Collins, Ray Cooper), but the material on offer is frankly disappointing. "Stranglehold" tries to mix classic rock'n'roll with Eighties sounds, resulting in a hybrid that makes little sense. "Only Love Remains" has the same effect, burying a soft ballad under tons of effects. The lyrics, too, lose their punch, coming across as banal and uninspired (“If you should ever feel that something’s wrong/ I’m going to want to put it right/ To bring a happy ending to our song/ I’ll carry on believing in a love”). The unsettling "Press" presents a Culture Club-style version of Paul McCartney, reeling off meaningless rhymes (“Oklahoma was never like this, never like this/ It was never like this/ Ever like this, hey, was it ever like this?/ Oklahoma was never like this, it was never like this”), while "Pretty Little Head" is a clumsy attempt to ape the sound of Duran Duran and A-Ha, resulting in an insipid, charmless track.

For longtime fans it's a real gut punch. Incomprehensible, unworthy, inconceivable for an artist of that stature, light years away from the sound Macca used to dominate so effortlessly. The record fails to win over younger listeners either, due to its lack of spontaneity, its overblown production and the weak appeal of the songs: it won't climb higher than number eight on the charts before sinking into obscurity.

Nonetheless, the Press To Play sessions do yield one great track, "Once Upon A Long Ago", included as a previously unreleased song on the 1987 compilation All The Best, put out to soften the blow of the recent commercial flop. In order to keep his name in the spotlight, he also releases a collection of old rock'n'roll standards under the name CHOBA B CCCP. Originally intended solely for the Soviet market, still gripped by the communist regime, this compilation is later released worldwide and earns considerable acclaim thanks to brilliant renditions of immortal songs such as "The Midnight Special", "Kansas City", "Ain't That A Shame", "Bring It On Home To Me" and "Lucille".

Nothing new, then, but the turning point is just around the corner. For the following Flowers In The Dirt, dated 1989, McCartney chooses to enlist the help of a seasoned musician: Elvis Costello (a favor later returned, as the two would go on to co-write and perform together on the Irish artist's album "Spike"). This new collaboration seems to breathe fresh life into Sir Paul's music, resulting in an album that's far more rock-oriented and a world away from the sterile experiments of the early Eighties. The scream that opens "My Brave Face" is a statement of intent, a forceful reclaiming of the spotlight after the missteps of the recent past. The vigorous melody, vaguely reminiscent of Sting and the Police, sets aside the synthesizers in favor of a more classic, immediately accessible sound. The lyrics assert the author's rock roots, diluted by worldwide success (“I’ve been living in style/ Unaccustomed as I am to the luxury life/ I’ve been hitting the town and it didn’t hit back”). The duet with partner Costello, "You Want Her Too", is, as the title suggests, a confrontation between two men in love with the same woman (“She makes me do things I don’t want to do/ I don’t know why I should be telling you/ I know that you want her too”). Here too, energy reigns supreme, both in the vocal and instrumental parts. Standing in sharp contrast is the unplugged delicacy of "Put It There", entirely centered on the father/son relationship (“Put it there if it weighs a ton/ That’s what the father said to his younger son/ I don’t care if it weighs a ton/ As long as you and I are here, put it there”). The alchemy between music and words is achingly beautiful; a true gem that only McCartney could pull off.

So much lightness is immediately followed by the heavily rhythmic "Figure Of Eight", but above all by the supremely elegant pop of "This One", brimming with optimism and vitality (“The swan is gliding above the ocean/ A God is riding upon his back/ How calm the water and bright the rainbow/ Fade this one to black”). Other excellent moments come from "Don't Be Careless Love", the reggae of "How Many People" and the closing track "Motor Of Love", where the synthesizers make a return.

Clearly, the backlash caused by the failure of Press To Play produces the desired effect. Flowers In The Dirt is a genuinely great record that restores Macca's name to prominence, scraping away the dull film left by his recent disappointing output. It's worth noting that the quality of the chosen musicians (among them Robbie McHintosh, Hamish Stuart, Nicky Hopkins and Chris Whitten) plays a decisive role in the album's excellent outcome.

It shouldn't be forgotten that much of the success of Flowers In The Dirt is due to the inclusion of many of its songs in the setlist of the colossal Paul McCartney World Tour, the first since the Wings Uk Tour 1979, which lasted over a year and took in the world's major cities. A skillful blend of Beatles, Wings and solo hits meant the world tour sold out everywhere, and the resulting double album, Tripping The Live Fantastic, shot to the top of charts around the globe. Another remarkable comeback from an artist used to surprising and reinventing himself, who seems to enter the last decade of the century with renewed spirit and energy.

Martin, Starr, Harrison e… the Lovely Linda

This state of grace is confirmed by the stunning performance at MTV Unplugged on 15 January 1991, the first in a series of concerts sponsored by the well-known network in which numerous internationally renowned artists tackle the most famous songs of their repertoire in acoustic form (worth noting are the fantastic live sets by Eric Clapton, Neil Young and Nirvana). Paul McCartney's set sees the British star pick up a Martin D 28 and offer intimate versions of Beatles classics ("I've Just Seen A Face", "Blackbird", "We Can Work It Out"), old standards ("Be Bop A Lula", "Blue Moon Of Kentucky", "Good Rockin Tonight", "San Francisco Bay Blues") and songs from his first solo work ("That Would Be Something", "Every Night", "Junk"). The result is the excellent album Unplugged-The Official Bootleg, which impresses with its sound quality and the beauty of the performances.

Five months later comes an ambitious yet fascinating project: the first "classical music" album by an ex-Beatle. The central theme is the life of Paul McCartney, from birth to recent years, passing through the Beatles, Wings, Linda and more. With the help of conductor Carl Davis (New York, 28 October 1936) and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, an unusual and intriguing album titled Paul McCartney's Liverpool Oratorio comes to life in October 1991. Structured in eight movements ("War", "School", "Crypt", "Father", "Wedding", "Work", "Crises", "Peace"), it's a largely self-referential and vaguely megalomaniacal work. Fans are left utterly bewildered, but sales are rather good, and the album even tops the classical charts.

After this brief excursion into classical music, things return to normal with a far more standardized record. 1993's Off The Ground shows no particularly notable peaks, remaining an utterly anonymous album, despite another appearance from Costello (albeit uncredited). McCartney's shifting worldview and renewed attention to social issues deeply influence the tracks. "Hope Of Deliverance", perhaps the most famous song in the tracklist, wraps a lyric deeply focused on hope for a better world in soft pop (“I will always be hoping, hoping/ You will always be holding/ Holding my heart in your hand/ I will understand”). The rock of the title track conceals ecological references (“Though it takes a lot of power/ To make a big tree grow/ It doesn’t need a pot of knowledge/ For a seed knows what a seed must know”), while "Looking For A Change" is an anti-vivisection tirade backed by a powerful rhythm that underscores the anger in the words (“Saw a rabbit with its eyes full of tears/ The lab that owned her had been doing it for years/ Why don’t we make them pay for every last eye?/ That couldn’t cry its own tears, do you know what I mean”). "Mistress And Maid" and "The Lovers That Never Were" are the only two tracks co-written with Costello, and the only ones that stray from the socio-ecological atmosphere permeating the whole work: two ballads centered on love, falling in love and passion, which nonetheless fail to leave a mark.

"Biker Like An Icon" tells of a girl's unrequited love for a cyclist (“There was a girl who loved a biker/ She used to follow him across America/ But the biker didn’t like her/ She didn’t care, she still persisted”) over a mediocrely poppy backing, while "C'mon People" is meant to be an anthem to optimism, but the overly baroque melody smothers its joy and sparkle, turning it into an anonymous, saccharine song (“So c’mon people let the world begin/ We’ve got a future and it’s charging in/ We’ll make the best of all we have and more/ We’ll do what never has been done before”).

The hugely anticipated follow-up to Flowers In The Dirt thus proves to be a colossal flop, both musically and compositionally. Too ecumenical and goody-goody, at times even irritating for the banality of its lyrics and the blandness of its melodies. Despite the high professionalism of the session musicians (the same ones used for the previous album and the unplugged set), the album comes across as too simplistic, half-hearted and essentially lacking in bite. For the first time since 1971, no successful singles are drawn from it, which only deepens its poor commercial showing.

A slightly bigger impact is made by the subsequent world tour, documented on the following Paul Is Live!, which adds little to the artist's discography beyond further fueling the inevitable rumors about his supposed death in 1966, thanks to a cover full of nods to the P.I.D. theory.

Sales of both albums are discouraging, whether due to the first's lack of inspiration, the second's essential pointlessness (it would become the lowest-selling live album of his career), or perhaps the distraction caused by an unprecedented initiative set to shake the entire rock landscape to its foundations.

On returning from the 1993 tour, Paul McCartney commits, together with former bandmates George Harrison and Ringo Starr, to recovering and expanding the Beatles' immense musical legacy. The project, named "Anthology", includes a ten-hour documentary packed with interviews and extremely rare footage tracing the saga of the Fab Four from the Hamburg days to the Rooftop Concert. Also planned are the release of three double albums full of outtakes, songs not included in the official discography, and above all, in an unprecedented move, two new Beatles songs. In reality, these are two Lennon demos, "Free As A Bird" and "Real Love", to which the voices and instruments of the other three members have been added through overdubs. A blatantly commercial operation, but one with immense appeal. And immense success too.

This journey back into his roots brings fresh light to McCartney's compositional imagination, and, reinvigorated by the atmosphere of Abbey Road, he writes and produces what is perhaps his best album since Band On The Run. Flaming Pie, from 1997, whose enigmatic title recalls the dream Lennon had in which the band's name was suggested to him, is a work steeped in Beatles-esque atmospheres tinged with melancholy and rich in evocative power. With the help of musicians such as Jeff Lynne, Ringo Starr, Steve Miller, Geoff Emerick, and production by trusty George Martin, Paul creates a thrilling record thanks to the remarkable quality of the songs as well as the meticulous recording and post-production work.

"The Song We Were Singing" is a kind of acoustic reflection on life's great themes and the passage of time, a track of undeniable charm thanks to Jeff Lynne's flawless harmonies and the perfectly judged use of harmonium (“Take a sip, see the world through a glass/ And speculate about the cosmic solution/ To the sound, blue guitars/ Caught up in a philosophical discussion”). The fired-up rock of "The World Tonight" and "If You Wanna" introduce the flowing "Somedays", whose beauty lies in the delicate interplay between voice and guitar before the splendid central chorus. Liverpool and memories of youth come surging back in words steeped in emotion and nostalgia (“Sometimes I laugh/ I laugh to think how young we were/ Sometimes it’s hard/ It’s hard to know which way to turn”), before turning into a cry of joy and hope in the pop gem "Young Boy" (“He’s just a young boy looking for a way to find love/It isn’t easy, nothing you can say will help him, Find love/ He’s got to do it for himself and it can take so long/ He just a young boy looking for a way to find love”).

McCartney's immense love for Linda inspires "Calico Skies", a tender acoustic piece built on guitar and voice, while the Fab Four resurface on the record in the bluesy "Flaming Pie", in which Paul declares himself to be "the man on the flaming pie" (“Stick my tongue out and lick my nose/ Tuck my shirt in and zip my fly/ Go ahead, have a vision/ I’m the man on the flaming pie”), a reference to Lennon's famous dream that supposedly inspired the band's name. The jazzy "Heaven On A Sunday" and the syncopated "Used To Be Bad" (a duet with Steve Miller) lead into the marvellous "Souvenir", a power ballad marked by a biting guitar riff on the main chorus. The lyrics focus on the value of friendship in hard times, with evocative lines (“If you want me tell me now/ If I can be of any help, tell me how/ Let me love you like a friend/ Everything is gonna come right in the end”) as warm as the vinyl crackle closing out the track.

"Little Willow" is another fine showcase for voice and guitar, while "Beautiful Night" sounds as if it stepped straight out of “Sgt. Pepper’s”. It's the best song on the album, the most beautiful, the most complex, the most intricate, the richest and also the most evocative. The vocal is carried by the piano before being elevated by a grand orchestral arrangement courtesy of George Martin. Remarkable is the long closing coda, which showcases a stunning change of rhythm, a searing guitar solo, and backing vocals where Ringo Starr's nasal voice stands out. I versi sono quantomai poetici, delicati e onirici, velati di una sottile malinconia e commovente sentimento (“Someone’s gone out fishing/ Someone’s high and dry/ Someone’s on a mission to the lonely Lorelei/ Some folk’s got a vision of a castle in the sky/ And I’m left stranded, wondering why”).

This is, without question, a tremendous album — one of McCartney's best, if not his very best. It's an outstanding work, full of pathos, poetry and great music that harks back, without ever naming them outright, directly to the Beatles. You can feel the air of Liverpool and Abbey Road running through it. The technical quality is extremely high, thanks to a dream team of session musicians, George Martin's supervision, and Lynne's essential contribution, which brings the intricate textures of Electric Light Orchestra into the temple of the Mersey Sound. It's a stellar record whose artistic stature can be compared to the finest work of the young, newly-solo McCartney just after the Beatles split. Critics and the public alike hailed it unanimously, sending it to the top of the charts and nearly earning it the Grammy for Album of the Year.

This renewed artistic fervour was destined to be brutally interrupted just a few months later. On April 17, 1998, Linda Eastman died as the cancer she had been diagnosed with three years earlier took a turn for the worse. It was a devastating blow for the ex-Beatle, who was forced to put all musical activity on hold. As the millennium drew to a close, McCartney, worn down by life's hardships, tried to carry on by taking refuge once again in his inexhaustible creative drive.

Both released in 1999 are the standards rock album Run Devil Run and his second venture into classical music, Working Classical. The former is a collection of old rock'n'roll numbers performed with masterful skill by a supergroup featuring, alongside McCartney himself, David Gilmour, Ian Paice, Mick Green, Pete Wingfield and Geraint Watkins. It ranges from "I Got Stung" and "All Shook Up", two classics by Elvis Presley, to "Brown Eyed Handsome Man" by Chuck Berry and "Blue Jean Bop" by Gene Vincent. The only original compositions are "Run Devil Run" and "Try Not To Cry", written in pure Fifties style.

The second album is a curious classical reworking of several tracks from McCartney's solo repertoire ("Junk", "Lovely Linda", "Warm And Beautiful", "My Love", "Calico Skyes"). Arranged by Richard Rodney Bennett and Jonathan Tunick and performed by the London Philharmonic Orchestra and the Loma Mar Quartet, it offers interesting ideas, especially on an instrumental and sonic level.

Sales of both records were not particularly high, though still respectable, proof of the public's unwavering affection even in the hardest of times.

Highlander

The new millennium opened for Paul McCartney under the banner of experimentation. In August 2000, he released Liverpool Sound Collage, a new chapter in electronic music, issued under the pseudonym The Fireman. Commissioned from the ex-Beatle by Peter Blake, the artist behind the "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" cover, the record was conceived as a kind of "soundtrack" to accompany one of Blake's own exhibitions at Tate Liverpool.

The tracks on it bear a strong resemblance to "Revolution 9" from the "White Album", with snippets of speech and street sounds blended with electronic effects rooted in dub and dance music.

Unlike Macca's previous electronic ventures, this record actually managed to earn good reviews, even picking up a Grammy Award for Best Alternative Music Album.

Meanwhile, his live activity carried on unabated. In 2001, McCartney was among the organisers of the "Concert For New York City", held in memory of the victims of September 11. On that occasion he performed the song "Freedom", later released on the new album of original material Driving Rain. It's a record shaped both by the tense climate gripping the world after the attacks on the Twin Towers and by a newfound stability, thanks to his relationship with former model Heather Mills, whom Paul would marry a few months later. Looking at the album's tracklist, it can be read as a faithful chronicle of the winding road Paul travelled over four years, starting with Linda's death, passing through Ground Zero, and arriving at the encounter with his new muse. Rock still has its place, as on "Lonely Road", where the pain over the death of his lifelong partner is plain to hear (“I tried to get over you/ I tried to find something new/ But all I could ever do/ Was fill my time/ With thoughts of you”), sung with anger and passion. The grief of that profound loss comes through even more clearly on the moving "From A Lover To A Friend", backed by piano and recorded as simply as possible, almost to underline the starkness of the words (“From a lover to a friend/ Take your own advice/ Let me love again/ Now that you turned out to be/ Someone I can trust/ Someone I believe”). Rediscovered love inspires the title track, shaping both its lively tempo and its catchy melody (“Something’s open, it’s my heart/ If something’s missing, it’s when we’re apart/ If something’s good, it’s when we’re back together again”).

Mills' presence becomes more and more evident as the album unfolds. Tracks like "About You", "Heather", "Back In The Sunshine Again" and "Your Loving Flame" feature lyrics clearly addressed to Paul's new partner, set to thoroughly enjoyable melodies that capture his rekindled romantic passion. But it is, without doubt, the aforementioned "Freedom" that deserves special mention for its powerful evocative force. It's an anthem of hope that radiates both grief and liberation in the wake of the bloody events of September 11. The lyrics are simple, direct, eminently singable, almost as if meant to exorcise fear itself (“Talkin’ about freedom/ I’m talkin’ ‘bout freedom/ I will fight/For the right/ To live in freedom”), while the music — enriched by Eric Clapton's guitar — takes on epic, majestic tones.

All things considered, Driving Rain is a good album, full of interesting ideas and excellent songs, even if it certainly lacks the charm and beauty of its predecessor. It's a transitional record. The darkest period has passed, and McCartney is ready to face the new millennium with renewed optimism. Grief, fear and uncertainty have been confronted and worked through across these sixteen tracks, and now the time has come to look at the world with hope restored.

Published in late 2001, the album nevertheless sold surprisingly poorly, especially compared with his previous collection of new material, Flaming Pie. The lackluster commercial performance was probably down to the absence of a strong lead single. Despite this, Paul McCartney embarked on a lengthy world tour, dubbed the Back In The World Tour, during which he played two historic shows in Rome: a free concert at Via dei Fori Imperiali in front of 500,000 adoring fans, and another, remarkably, inside the Colosseum for just 300 people.

At the end of this endless run of concerts, Paul returned to the studio to record new material. Having enlisted Radiohead's longtime producer Nigel Godrich (London, 28 February 1971) to refresh his sound, in September 2005 he released Chaos And Creation In The Backyard, a pop-rock record built around predominantly acoustic textures. The result is an excellent album, praised by both the public and critics. Pounding piano drives the brisk rhythm of "Fine Line," built around the delicate balance between good and evil, courage and fear, "chaos and creation" (“There is a fine line, between recklessness and courage/ It’s about time, you understood which road to take/ It’s a fine line, your decision makes a difference/ Get it wrong, you’ll be making a big mistake”). Acoustic guitar and the strange sound of the duduk sketch out ethereal phrasing as McCartney sings of men's loneliness and sadness on "Jenny Wren," dubbed the "Eleanor Rigby of the 2000s" ("She saw poverty, breaking all the home/ Wounded warriors, took her song away").

The baroque atmospheres of "English Tea," underscored by strings and ocarinas, lend the album an elegant touch, while "Too Much Rain" is another soft ballad about the importance of optimism (“It’s too much for anyone, Too hard for anyone/ Who wants a happy and peaceful life/ You’ve gotta learn to laugh”). The excellent "Follow Me" is once again a dedication to Mills (“You give me direction, you show me the way/ You give me a reason, to face every day/ I can depend on you, to send me to, any destination/ You hold up a sign that reads, follow me, follow me”), while the tenderness found in tracks such as "Promised To You Girl," "This Never Happened Before" and "Anyway" highlights a moment of great contentment for the songwriter, one that gave rise to particularly inspired and effective songs.

The whole album reflects this magical moment, coming across overall as a cohesive, charming and elegant work. Even the decision to return to recording acoustically, almost entirely alone, proves to be a winning one, giving Macca the chance to bare himself in front of a microphone once again. Both the public and critics appreciate such sincerity and simplicity, resulting in positive reviews and decent sales figures.

But life's complications are always lurking around the corner. May 2006 brings the tortured (and hugely expensive) divorce from Heather Mills, with whom the former Beatle had in the meantime had a daughter, Beatrice. It's another heavy blow for Sir Paul, who finds himself forced to spend much of his time between courtrooms and lawyers, and to see his good name splashed across the world's major tabloids.

Since we're on the subject of separations, 2007 also brings his split from record label EMI after a 45-year partnership. All of this inevitably leaves its mark on the music. After his third foray into classical music with Ecce Cor Meum (his final album for EMI), dedicated entirely to his late wife Linda, June 2007 brings Memory Almost Full, which marks a sharp change of direction from its predecessor. Gone are the acoustic, muffled textures, replaced by a rawer, more full-blooded rock sound clearly rooted in Wings. Particularly interesting is "Gratitude," which, besides being an excellent ballad in which McCartney exorcises the pain of his recent, traumatic divorce from Heather Mills (“Well, I was lonely/ I was living with a memory/ But my cold and lonely nights ended/ When you sheltered me”), is also a track that has piqued the curiosity of die-hard believers in the "Paul Is Dead" theory. It seems that playing the chorus backwards reveals words that supposedly expose the true identity of Paul's alleged lookalike ("Who is this now? Who is this now?/ I was… Willie Campbell!").

The fun, mandolin-driven "Dance Tonight" is a folk-rock number with a simple, direct lyric (“Everybody gonna dance tonight/ Everybody gonna feel alright/ Everybody gonna dance around tonight”). Soft strings introduce "Only Mama Knows," a biting rock track dominated by razor-sharp electric guitars and a thunderous drum pattern. The lyrics offer a sorrowful reflection on the melancholy brought on by endless tours (“Well, I was found in the transit lounge/ Of a dirty airport town/ What was I doing on the road to ruin/ Well my mama laid me down/ My mama laid me down”). The melancholic "You Tell Me" dusts off memories of a long-gone summer (“When was that summer when the skies were blue/ The bright red cardinal flew down from its tree?/ You tell me/ When was that summer when it never rained/ The air was buzzin’ with the sweet old honeybee?/ Let’s see, you tell me”) over the soft sound of an acoustic guitar. The vocal, too, turns languid and wistful, heightening the pathos the music evokes.

There's still room for the acidic sounds of "Nod Your Head," the baroque moods of "Mr. Bellamy," and the excellent songwriting on display in "Vintage Clothes," "That Was Me" and "The End Of The End," which round out the tracklist of this fine album in fitting fashion. By this point, Paul McCartney no longer needs to astonish or experiment; his voice and his touch alone are enough to make any record enjoyable. His inspiration and imagination remain as vivid as ever, wrapped in a class that only an artist of his stature can possess. By now his career as a "living legend" carries on amid tributes, awards and the occasional world tour. And yet something is still simmering, and his urge to reinvent himself shows no sign of fading.

In 2008, once again donning The Fireman guise, he released another electronic music album (Electric Arguments), while in 2010 he was awarded the Gershwin Award by the Library of Congress of the United States (complete with a memorable performance at the White House in front of President Barack Obama).

Between charity events and concerts, McCartney still finds time to write and produce new albums. 2011 brings his new classical music album Ocean's Kingdom, while February 2012 sees the release of Kisses On The Bottom, a covers album graced by the presence of artists of the caliber of Stevie Wonder, Eric Clapton, Vinnie Colaiuta and Diana Krall. Rock is temporarily set aside in favor of hushed, jazzy sounds, marked by generous use of piano, double bass and strings. Even Paul's singing grows sweeter, softer and more delicate as he tackles, like a seasoned crooner, material of undeniable quality such as "Bye Bye Blackbird," "Home (When Shadows Fall)," "I'm Gonna Sit Right Down And Write Myself A Letter" and "Always." Among the new originals is the gorgeous "My Valentine," dedicated to his new flame Nancy (“And I will love her for life/ And I will never let a day go by/ Without remembering the reasons why/ She makes me certain/ That I can fly”) and shaped by Clapton's beautiful guitar, and "Only Our Hearts," further testament to rediscovered love, enriched by Wonder's unmistakable harmonica. This is a "mature," solid, well-structured and well-produced work that reveals a side of McCartney that had long remained largely unknown. Over time, the Beatles' bassist and the fired-up Wings rocker have morphed into a "confidential singer," refined, smooth and persuasive. Stadiums and arenas make way for more intimate, close-knit atmospheres, suited to theaters or nightclubs, better fitted to a cultured, mature audience. The album climbs the charts, winning over both fans and industry insiders alike.

New Paul

McCartney splits his time between celebratory concerts at Buckingham Palace, Olympic Games closing ceremonies, and sold-out world tours such as the recent Out There! Tour. But ever the tireless, prolific musician, in October 2013 he releases a new album, the successful NEW, which earns enthusiastic praise from across the music world thanks to its unexpectedly fresh sound. Credit goes to McCartney's knack for surrounding himself with young musicians and producers such as Mark Ronson, Ethan Johns and Paul Epworth, capable of constantly refreshing his style. Special recognition, however, must go to his incredible creative streak, able to produce, well into his seventies, a gem like "Save Us," a fired-up track celebrating his love for Nancy Shevell (“Keep on sending your love/ In the heat of battle/ You’ve got something that’ll save us/ Save us now”). Alongside classic instrumentation, there's excellent use of electronics, able to project the classic Liverpool Sound into the new millennium. The same goes for "On My Way To Work," remarkable for its blend of acoustic guitar and new sounds, "Early Days," a moving remembrance of the early years with the Beatles (“Dressed in black from head to toe/ Two guitars across our backs/ We would walk the city roads/ Seeking someone who would listen to the music/ That we were writing down at home”), and "New," a fantastic, clearly Beatlesque track centered on the songwriter's recent marriage (“You came along/ And made my life a song/ One lucky day/ You came along”).

A remarkable sonic variety dominates "Appreciate," the album's most "experimental" track, sharply contrasting with the delicacy of "Hosanna," marked by a gently poetic lyric (“Hide in the darkness ‘til it’s getting light/ Do everything until we’ve got it done/ Then sing Hosanna to the morning sun”). All these tracks give the album an unexpected freshness, paired with a still-excellent creative streak, despite more than fifty years of career. Yet another late flourish from an undisputed genius of world music, capable of writing a new chapter with every new release.

Unable to grow old, McCartney still has fun, on the Grammy Awards stage, on 8 February 2015, in Los Angeles, performing for the first time live his new collaboration: the track "FourFiveSeconds," made together with Kanye West and Rihanna, destined to be included on the Barbadian singer's new album.

Although his voice is no longer as clear as it once was, his repertoire has grown more jazzy and relaxed, and the lines on his face have deepened, the charm and the magic return intact every time Sir Paul McCartney picks up his Höfner once again.

Another change at the production desk for Egypt Station, this time it's the turn of the expert Greg Kurstin (The Bird And The Bee, Beck, Lily Allen, Adele, etc…) to once again get Paul McCartney's balancing act between depth and lightness back into shape.

Music for fun, then, with the pleasant surprise of having in hand a good handful of songs worthy of an imaginary greatest-hits collection drawn from Paul's solo career. The slightly modern touch of some of the arrangement choices might make a few purists turn up their noses, as in the case of the excessive and redundant lyrical and harmonic silliness of "Fuh You"; by contrast,

the touching romanticism of "I Don't Know", the introspective "Happy With You", the brilliant electro-blues up-tempo of "Come On To Me" in the vein of Electric Light Orchestra, and the unpredictable refrain of "Dominoes" not only boast melodies of instant, solid appeal, but are also marked by adventurous arrangements.

This McCartney, the protagonist of this new album, is undisciplined, at times even reckless and rowdy, to the point of stumbling into a few missteps, such as the bossa nova-lounge of "Back In Brasil", which nonetheless still manages to draw a satisfied smile, or the unlikely rock-soul of "Caesar Rock".

The sixteen songs are, in truth, so many stops on an imaginary journey, so many points of arrival and departure where memories and impressions overlap for Paul. Hence a kind of double tribute to the different sides of John Lennon: the more poetic and intimate one ("Confidante") and the politically and socially engaged one ("People Want Peace"). There's also room for the old Wings, evoked with class in the more rocking "Who Cares" and in the mini-suite "Despite Repeated Warnings", reminiscent of Band On The Run.

And then there's of course the sentimental McCartney: the one capable of turning the few notes of "Hand In Hand" into something more than a simple love song, or elevating the delicate, intense baroque ballad "Do It Now" into a little gem to be handed down to posterity. With another mini-suite on record, "Hunt You Down/Naked/C-Link", which hints at all the stylistic attitudes left out of the running, this new album by the ex-Beatle can certainly be hailed as a welcome return to form.

In 2020, however, the third chapter of the eponymous saga arrives unexpectedly.

If McCartney I was born under the weight of the last painful moments of the Beatles' story (it was 1970, and McCartney, under the pseudonym Billy Martin, was preparing the release of his minimal, acoustic solo debut), ten years later the synthetic McCartney II was released following the new Wings album, Back To The Egg. Exactly fifty years on, entirely different dramas mark McCartney III (2020), the third chapter of the trilogy (as well as the eighteenth album of the Liverpool bassist's career), shaped by lockdown and the Covid-19 pandemic.

Macca goes back to playing every instrument you hear, and don't be fooled by the "weight" of numbers and anniversaries: McCartney III is the inspired home jam of a man who still has a lot to say, and play. A work closer to the first chapter, without forgetting Chaos And Creation In The Backyard from 2005, produced by Nigel Godrich.

Safe inside his Sussex home, McCartney picks up an instrument every day and then begins the process of composing and overdubbing, as can be seen in the videos that preceded the album's release. The opening is enveloping, thanks to the near-instrumental "Long Tailed Winter Bird" and the following "Find My Way", where the wise Paul dispenses advice and reassures, as much as possible, those listening: "You never used to be afraid of days like these/ But now you're overwhelmed by your anxieties/ Let me help you out, let me be your guide/ I can help you reach the love you feel inside". The sound of the guitar on the first track will reappear in the closing composition, bringing the forty-four minutes of music to a cohesive close.

In between, there's the piano of "Women And Wives", the rocking "Lavatory Lil" and "Seize The Day", the heavy "Slidin'". Not everything is perfect: the repetitive "Deep Down" and the not-quite-focused eight minutes of "Deep Deep Feeling". Much better are the brief, well-crafted moments of warm, fine pop craftsmanship: "The Kiss Of Venus", whose title comes from John Martineau's book, and "Pretty Boys", whose opening lines might seem to evoke the many photos taken of our man by his beloved wife Linda, who passed away in 1998, but which actually deals with paparazzi's obsession with immortalizing new stars.

Closed by "Winter Bird/When Winter Comes", McCartney III went straight to number one on the charts: keeping it company on the singles front was Ringo Starr with his new song "Here's To The Nights", on which, among the many prestigious guests, McCartney himself also sings.

Riding the success of the third chapter in the McCartney series, Sir Paul takes the opportunity to release new versions collected in McCartney III Imagined. The former Fab Four member – forever the eternal boy – doesn't surround himself with other famous peers his own age, but instead opts for younger, more "modern" colleagues. McCartney III Imagined offers, first and foremost for anyone who missed it, the chance to revisit the original productions, and perhaps get acquainted with names not yet well known in Italy (Dominic Fike, Khruangbin), while admiring how some heavyweights from different genres and scenes handled the author's music. The tracklist is reshuffled to best blend the reworkings, remixes and guest features, which strip the songs of that genuine homemade, do-it-all aura typical of the McCartney albums, carrying them into different dimensions. The physical edition of the record also features an extra-musical name, namely actor Idris Elba – Inspector Luther from the eponymous series and Stringer Bell from The Wire, long touted as one of the favourites for the new James Bond – who over the years has also dabbled in music as a deejay. McCartney III Imagined opens with Beck's instrumental approach on "Find My Way", before moving on to its most successful moments, namely those where the guest's signature is most audible. Phoebe Bridgers makes "Seize The Day" entirely her own, while Josh Homme brings "Lavatory Lil" into some of the most enveloping sonic territory of his recent work. As for the remixes, standouts include the female backing vocals and fine solo from St. Vincent on "Women And Wives" and the EOB remix (that is, by Ed O'Brien of Radiohead) of an even heavier "Slidin'". With a little help from friends and colleagues, McCartney III Imagined is yet another engaging, high-quality listen from Macca, closed in the best possible way by the hypnotic ten-minute journey organised by 3D for "Deep Deep Feeling".

Preceded by the intimate, almost understated charm of the single "Days We Left Behind", The Boys Of Dungeon Lane is not the long-awaited final masterpiece of an artist on the verge of his eighty-fourth birthday. Anyone hoping for a solemn, noir-tinged celebration should abandon that notion right away, because this is pure, one hundred percent McCartney, with everything that implies.

The new album by the former Beatle (its title lifted from a still-unreleased 1991 demo called “In Liverpool”) is the not-quite-secret diary of a boy grappling with youthful ambitions and dreams, but also with his own fragility - a fragility made palpable by a voice now lacking in the mid-to-upper register, yet still as evocative and unique as ever.

For an artist who has spent recent years trying to piece together fragments and memories, these fourteen new songs are just further pieces of a puzzle that makes no claim to thematic completeness. Although linked by a common thread, the tracks don't follow the logic of a concept album, and the only melancholy, moving moments are found in the already-mentioned "Days We Left Behind" and in the closing track "Momma Gets By" (a poetic memory of his mother), a song that reshapes the harmonic grace of "Lady Madonna" with a mournful touch and a string arrangement that borders on perfection.

McCartney found in producer Andrew Watt (who previously worked with Rolling Stones and Elton John) the perfect accomplice, but Pat Thomas's deft piano touch is the other standout element of an album musically rich in ideas. And then there's Paul, now a thoroughly versatile musician who has no fear of playing the one man band.

Last but not least there are, of course, the songs, yet another confirmation of McCartney's authority as a composer: a string of chords and choruses shaped with that deceptive simplicity that has always been one of the trademarks of the fab four lads from Liverpool. A track like "We Two" not only dishes out chord changes with impressive fluidity, but confirms that only Paul can imitate Paul. The same can be said of two other little gems, "Ripples In A Pond" and the extraordinary "Come Inside" (already a classic, as far as I'm concerned), both dedicated to two important women in his life (the first to his current wife Nancy Shevell, the second to Linda Eastman) — yet there's no forced or mawkish sentimentality framing either song: the pop exuberance of the first and the rock'n'roll energy of the second are brimming with positivity and joie de vivre, the very same joy that marked both relationships.

Brilliant and even unpredictable, Paul McCartney avoids celebrating the past in mournful or overly saccharine tones. What comes through is the English musician's deep gratitude for a life lived to the fullest. The songs form a fragmentary collage of memories, some shared with his friend Ringo Starr, a special guest on the breezy, carefree "Home To Us", others entrusted to memory and to two travelling companions no longer with us. In the deliberately raw, acoustic-tinged rock'n'roll of "Down South", Paul recalls the many car rides with George Harrison, while in the aforementioned "Days We Left Behind", the memory turns to the house on Forthlin Road, where Paul and John wrote the Beatles' earliest songs.

"The Boys Of Dungeon Lane" is a frank, vibrant record. Producer Andrew Watt's choice not to modernize the sound but rather to render it knowingly classic and timeless is one of the album's winning moves. Paul steers clear of the prophetic posturing that grips so many veteran rock stars, fearlessly flaunting that same grace and frivolity he shared with Wings, traits that have often drawn fierce criticism toward the ex-Beatle ("Never Know").

That Paul McCartney deserves a place apart in the history of modern music grows ever more obvious. Not only does "As You Lie There" show the English musician can go toe-to-toe with newer generations, combining bold instrumental choices, a post-rock melodic phrasing, and unshakeable pop verve, but at the same time it shatters the ambitions of today's pop singer-songwriters with a ballad, "First Star Of The Night", that reinvents the term folk-noir, opening the door to that faint light at the end of the dark that many call hope.

The Boys Of Dungeon Lane is an album that perfectly achieves its aim, namely reliving the carefree spirit and magic of the pre-Beatles era. These songs leave room for dreams and ambitions, for the energy of rock'n'roll ("Lost Horizon"), but also for psychedelic rapture ("Mountain Top"), all put together with class and undeniable talent ("Salesman Saint"). At the risk of indulging in the kind of simplification typical of armchair critics, Paul McCartney's latest album is one of the most enjoyable of the Liverpool musician's long career, a potential crossover between the underrated "Red Rose Speedway" and the excellent "Chaos And Creation In The Backyard". There's even room for the naysayers, those who upon hearing the sly dixieland-pop of "Life Can Be Hard" are ready to turn their noses up like Yoko Ono's grandmother, for a track that is simply another delightful page in an extraordinary yet unpretentious album.

Contributions by Gianfranco Marmoro (“Egypt Station”, “The Boys Of Dungeon Lane”) and Alessio Belli (“McCartney III”, “McCartney III Imagined”)

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google