photo by Mary McCartney
The older I become I am constantly amazed by life's surprises, it's miracles large and small. 2020 has been a year that has tested each of us. What metal we are made of, titanium or tin foil or something in between. It has been a year in which we have been grabbed by the shirt collar and shaken, reminded more strongly of what we should intrinsically know, that friends and family are everything. But I digress. During a year of unbelievable stupidity and hate, the surprises loom large. Georgia, goddamn Georgia turned a glorious shade of blue. A Covid vaccine developed in less than one year, amazing. And at 78, while in quarantine, Paul McCartney has crafted the Best (rock / pop) Album of 2020.
I am amazed as much as you are, believe me. It is not that I am not a fan of Paul's work, I am, but (for me) his post Beatles album artistry, while prolific has not dazzled me with the exception of the escapist 1973 "Band On The Run", the psyche folk / art pop opera, 1975 "Venus & Mars", and the truly wonderful busker transcendent 1971 "Ram" and, of course, it must be stated that nearly every solo work since "Ram" has for the most part held either one or two or three hit songs or great songs within their respective collections.
For me, McCartney overall has felt maybe too predictable not only in terms of "his" songwriting but his sound and vocal aesthetic but his 18th solo work, "McCartney III" crafted while in quarantine and done so, at least partially, in a DIY fashion as Paul went through the musical clutter he had created over the years, like dusting off a trove of Polaroids and finding treasures, he has produced an extremely fruitful collection of songs swimming deeper, both emotionally and musically. than ever before. Interestingly, his voice almost knocking on the octogenarian door, has more sonic wrinkles and limits that make it only more vastly interesting and more emotionally engaging. There is less sparkle in the winking eye and I like that.
"McCartney III" doesn't feel as much like a rock album, although he does just that on "Slidin'" and "Find My Way". These songs are shaped, in some ways, like some of his past works and still shows his ability to craft solid vox populi songs but in more interesting ways, they feel like the shiny wrapping on a more dark gift. "Pretty Boys" with it's busker picking and plaintiff words feels like an old man plunging into the vagaries of youth especially a famous young man who may of been handled by those who see rewards to be gleamed from this golden boy. "Woman and Wives" feels like dark gothic folk even though Paul can't help but smooth in some grand pop melodies but this black diversionary song reminds me that if a songwriter gets old enough he will eventually go down a Nick Cave-esque rabbit hole. It is inevitable and so exquisitely moving. Paul keeps the production spartan running over the uneven piano strata. "Woman and Wives" is the most singular surprise on the album. "Lavatory Lil" rides on a not so surprising blues boogie rock vibe that Paul has been obviously in love with since the early days and, while it does sound so classic and maybe unsurprising, the guitar work and Paul's vocal energy is totally engaging and comely as ever.
The vocal lushness on "Deep Deep Feeling" riding high on lonely piano chords and a staggered minimalistic drum pattern is so dreamy. Not dreamy as in pretty but as a mild fever induced torment like something conjured up as a staged askew Nightmare ballet dance dream sequence ala Fred Astaire. It may be the closest thing to minimalist neosoul that Paul has ever come to. Smartly he lets a lot of the instrumentation carry this moody story with falsetto vocal stabs highlighting the overall drunken sad feeling. Paul let's the emptiness burn in a 10cc low synth simmer and while the vocal insertions in one section feel pasted in, this technique only serves to feel like a myriad of one's life's moments hazing in just in and out of time waiting for the surprising half time drum beat and ramp down to start, turning the dream darkly sour. When you think the trip is over, it is not. An acoustic take as a coda feels like a mantric smile, an utter daring surprise.
The "Kiss Of Venus" is a divine deep drink of a floating folk lullaby that feels as if it could of been on 'Let It Be'. It is not only the downright beautiful bohemian hippie sense I am feeling but the upfront vox and guitar that gives it more of a folk punk busker aesthetic than classic folk. The sort of Brit pop "Seize The Day" does, if I am honest, almost feel like a Beatle-esqe psyche postured song as done by a mediocre but highly popular pop punk outfit like Green Day (for example) but at least Paul doing it makes absolute sense. The DIY synth pop and simply drawn "Deep Down" with funk affections done sideways feels kind of like a funk experiment done earnestly by someone who absolutely cannot dance. Strangely enough that is what makes it alluring and crazily kitsch funk forward in a Tom Tom club sort of way. A contact high that makes you giddy and dance like Kristin Wiig. A metropolitan Nash car that is so cool just because it is a metropolitan Nash.
The final track is called "Winter Bird / When Winter Comes" starts with a Lindsey Buckingham like guitar riff that comprises most of the first track "Long Tailed Winter Bird" but only for a short time. I am thankful for that as I found the opening track to be one that is built on a hook that feels common and (even worse) overstays it's welcome. Enough said (it is the only song on the album that feels to me unnecessary) in the company of the other works. That guitar hook does (at least) serve to cement the first song to the last and thankfully, "Winter Bird / When Winter Comes", as it's own thing apart from that connection is a beautiful farewell. Paul's voice is centered in his sweet spot and is goddamn beautiful. While his deeper registers on some of the aforementioned darker sounding tracks add a different seasoned dimension, here he sounds as he did in 1970.
For the most part the Beatle and post Beatle McCartney that we all know (at least publically) has been the effervescent Paul. You know, the one brilliantly impersonated by Dana Carvey, the one that is "noodling around... ya know" and as I recently watched clips from the much anticipated Peter Jackson Beatles documentary "Get Back", Paul has always been charismatic and stunningly handsome. He seems to exist as artist and icon effortlessly.
On "McCartney III" some of that sheen has been worn off. The songs have beautiful faults and crevices made deeper by the loss of life in his world and repaired, somewhat filled in, by the blessings of new lives and loves. Paul strikes me as an optimist who cannot completely tear open his guts and show them but here, he has artistically exhibited a wider emotional palette asking darker questions lyrically and musically. It is an album the reveals origins and open ends. It is, by no means, a perfect album and all great albums are, after all, not perfect. What it is, is a piece of work that is not "overly so". Not overly audacious, not overly sentimental, not overly divergent, it is just simply honest and inspires artistically with songs that are individually hard to pin down (exactly) and overall as an album that is hard to describe (genre agnostic). It will (like all substantial art) season over time, mattering more a decade from now even though it matters such a great deal now.
Baby, I'm amazed.
-Robb Donker Curtius
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