Paul McCartney
Inspired equally by show tunes, music hall and rock 'n' roll, the
young James Paul McCartney (whose first guitar, incidentally, was
a Rosetti Lucky 7 - essentially a plank of wood with strings) was
The Beatles' chief source of joyous
melody.
John Lennon and Paul McCartney's
song-writing genius called for a versatility unique in pop music.
By 1965 a single session might see McCartney recording
larynx-shredding rocker I'm Down followed by the acoustic
Yesterday. But it was the sugary balladeer of Abbey
Road which hinted at his solo future - easy to mock but adored
by millions.
In 1969, Paul had grown tired of driving from his house in St
John's Wood to Savile Row every day to have the same circular
arguments with The Beatles about whether the notorious New York
rockbiz accountant Allen Klein should be their manager, and
what percentage of their income he should get.
When he filed suit in the High Court in London to end the
partnership trading as The Beatles & Co, and appointed a
receiver to wind up its affairs as well as to finish its
association with Klein, it was little more than a formal
conclusion to a process of disintegration that had been going on
for years.
Exhausted and defeated, Paul withdrew from London for a simpler
life - with his American wife Linda (pictured at left) and their daughters - at his
farmhouse in Argyllshire, near the Mull of Kintyre (more on that
place name later).
By mid-1970, with McCartney vilified nationally as The Beatles'
executioner, Linda was nursing him through a year-long depression
on the farm. She was both rock and collaborator.
Having sung a
harmony on Let It Be (uncredited), she now added her
folksy voice to some of Paul's best early solo work (Another
Day, Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey), as well as some
of his worst.
Paul's
debut solo album, McCartney, had some excellent moments (Maybe
I'm Amazed remains a firm favourite of fans to this day), but
largely suffered from its unsophisticated recording process - it
was made in Paul's home studio - while Ram, a huge hit on
both sides of the Atlantic, demonstrated his consummate skill with
a melody.
On 8 November 1971, the McCartneys launched their new band, Wings,
at the Empire Ballroom, Leicester Square. Completing the quartet's
line-up were New York drummer Denny Seiwell and ex-Moody
Blues singer/guitarist Denny Laine. The Empire, with its roots in Victorian music hall and Lumiere Brothers
moving pictures, provided a suitably historical setting for Wings'
inauguration.
The formation of Wings came as no real surprise, as Paul had
always enjoyed being part of a group. What was a shock though, was
their debut album, Wildlife.
The LP was patently
substandard and the rock papers savaged it. "This is not even
acceptable pop music," wrote one reviewer. Paul was
undaunted. Wings were going on the road.
Britain was hit by a power crisis in February 1972. Affecting
heating, lighting and amplification, it caused numerous gigs to be
cancelled and there were fears for musician's livelihoods if the
situation worsened. In this context, Wings debuted on 9 February.
They had a new member, Henry McCullough, on lead guitar, but no
manager or booking agent. They travelled in two vans - musicians,
wives, children, dogs, roadies. On the M1, seeing signs for
Nottingham, McCullough suggested they try Nottingham University.
And so, throughout their tour, the scenario went like this:
Wings pull into a University campus. Their roadies find the
student union and ask if they'd like a band to play.
"No
thanks." "It's Paul McCartney." "Whaaaaat?"
Student comes out to the van, sees McCartney, grins in disbelief.
It is agreed Wings will play for 50p on the door, tonight or
tomorrow, whichever is convenient, mate.
Wings look for somewhere
to spend the night. Only a man like McCartney could have done it.
Wings released their first single, Give Ireland Back To The
Irish, that month. A horrified McCartney's response to the
events of 'Bloody Sunday' (30 January) when 13 civil rights
protesters in Derry were shot dead by British soldiers, the song
proved bitterly controversial.
EMI reluctantly sanctioned its release, but as Northern Ireland
teetered on the brink, the single was given no exposure
whatsoever. Radio 1's chart show wouldn't even mention its title.
Wings lay low. The University Tour had created an 'issue' in
the band that successive line-ups of the band would all have to
face. Linda McCartney was a novice-standard prodder of a keyboard
and tended to sing a little waywardly on stage.
As everyone from
band members to the road crew gritted their teeth, the stoical
Linda became the butt of countless jokes during the bands'
lifetime. Henry McCullough lost his temper and told McCartney to
hire a proper piano player. He was told to sit down and shut up.
Red Rose Speedway appeared, led by the massive hit, My
Love, and that summer - with child-friendly single Mary
Had A Little Lamb gambolling around the Top 30 - Wings
upgraded from a van to an open-topped London double-decker bus and
toured Europe.
Incredibly, their third single, Hi Hi Hi, received
another Radio 1 ban - this time for sexual innuendo. But an
incident on the European tour would have far more serious
repercussions than any BBC embargo.
In Gothenburg, Sweden, the
McCartneys and Seiwell were arrested and fined for possessing
marijuana. Media reports of the bust triggered a second bust at
the McCartney family farm by Scottish police.
Paul now found he was denied a US visa, and the drug
convictions also kept him out of Japan, one of rock's most
lucrative markets.
1973 found the McCartneys in Lagos, Nigeria, recording their
next album. McCullough and Seiwell had both quit the band (Seiwell
by telephone only hours before the Lagos flight) reducing Wings to
an overstretched trio.
During the course of the recording, local
musicians came to the studio to intimidate them, Paul and Linda
were mugged at knife-point and Paul suffered a bronchial condition
that made him fear he was having a heart attack.
The resulting album, Band On The Run, followed its
patchy predecessor to number one in America and became Britain's
best-selling album of 1974. The unqualified triumph did wonders
for Paul's confidence. He was back. He'd made a classic. Even John
Lennon said so.
As McCartney now overtook Lennon to be the most successful and
critically-acclaimed ex-Beatle the image of Wings changed totally.
They joined the jet-set.
By 1976 - once Paul had finally been granted a US visa - there
would be $80,000 end-of-tour parties in Hollywood mansions
attended by A-listers Warren Beatty and Tony Curtis. Wings - the
band that had played Little Richard
covers for 50p on the door at Nottingham University - were now
grossing $5 million for seven weeks' work.
The mid to late 70s were Wings' commercial heyday. The albums Venus
and Mars (1975) and Wings At The Speed Of Sound (1976)
dovetailed perfectly with the baby boomers' insatiable appetite
for easy-going-arena-rock (Peter Frampton,
The Eagles, Steve
Miller etc) both at home and abroad.
Back to full strength after the addition of Jimmy McCulloch
(guitar) and Joe English (drums), Wings racked up a fifth
consecutive American number one album in 1977 with the triple-live
Wings Over America (having obliterated the world indoor
audience attendance record (67,100) in Seattle on the tour in
question.
In 1977, while The Sex Pistols
sneered at stupid old EMI on their debut album, Paul and his
record company savoured their colossal international success of a
misty-eyed waltz composed in tribute to the area of Scotland where
McCartney lived. Statistically outrageous, Mull Of Kintyre sold
over two million copies in Britain alone.
1978's London Town was partly recorded on a yacht
moored in the Virgin Islands where Wings relaxed with cordon bleu
dinners and water skiing sessions. So it was a surprise when
McCartney unveiled a new line-up that year, featuring two
newcomers who looked like members of Blondie.
Producer Chris Thomas - fresh from Never Mind The Bollocks -
was brought in, and Paul promised a "raw" sound.
Things looked promising, but Back To The Egg (1979)
saw McCartney's innate conservatism scupper the experiment. He
just couldn't help inviting some decidedly pre-punk acquaintances
- David Gilmour, Pete
Townshend, Ronnie Lane - to
participate in an Abbey Road supergroup (the Rockestra) on a
couple of gratuitous blowouts.
Stung by the album's rejection (it yielded no UK hits) Paul
focused his mind on the upcoming world tour. After the UK, the
next stop was Japan.
On 16 January 1980, while touring Japan for the first time
since The Beatles played there in 1966, McCartney was arrested
when he landed at Narita Airport with nearly half a pound of
marijuana in his suitcase. Prisoner number 22 - as he was suddenly
known - faced up to seven years behind bars.
He spent 10 days in a cell at the Tokyo Metropolitan Police
Office, but when his father-in-law and lawyer Lee Eastman flew to
Tokyo, the Japanese authorities elected to send Macca away rather
than send him down. McCartney was deported and the tour was
cancelled.
Wings officially ended in April 1981 when Denny Laine left. By
then Paul had released the solo LP McCartney II (including
the hit single Coming Up) and embarking on another new
career.
Ebony and Ivory (1982) reunited McCartney with George
Martin, his record producer from The Beatles' days. The duet
with Stevie Wonder was recorded
when Paul and Stevie were in the studio together but the pair were
unable to find time to make the video. They appeared together in
the promotional clip through the art of modern technology.
McCartney's 2007 album, Memory Almost Full, marked the
end of his 45-year association with EMI and was, instead, sold in
13,500 Starbucks stores as part of a revolutionary deal signed
with the planet's foremost coffee retailer.
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