It Actually Happened.

Director's Cut - Kate knows what she's doing

Kate Bush’s new/old album Director’s Cut, a reworking of tracks from 1989’s The Sensual World and 1993’s The Red Shoes, has received largely positive reviews from critics and rather more mixed responses from the public. I’ve heard a few radio DJs expressing unhappy bemusement after playing the new versions of classic tracks such as 'Deeper Understanding', 'This Woman’s Work' and 'The Sensual World', a bemusement echoed and intensified by listeners’ texts. No doubt hearing new versions of old songs, especially ones that are already much-loved by fans, is going to provoke a reaction, and not always a good one. But I’m of the belief that the pissed-off fans are letting their emotions get in the way of their critical judgement.

I can accept that Director’s Cut, as a concept, could seem a bit pointless and redundant if you are a fan who already owns and appreciates the albums on which the tracks originally appear. But for people who are not familiar with her work it provides an almost perfect introduction to it, like a Greatest Hits, but with more care and effort put in. I am one of those people and I am thrilled to have had the opportunity to hear a cross-section of her older work and to hear how she is working now – how her voice sounds now as a mature woman, how her producing skills are as experimental and precise as ever, how her interest in music is not frozen in time and how (unlike many other world-famous artists) she is not resting on her laurels and releasing a best-of every couple of years to keep bread on the table. A lot of work has gone into producing this album, and that alone justifies the price.

Like most people, I was always familiar with Kate Bush; I knew her famous tunes and knew that she was the kind of artist I would like, but had not gotten around to investigating her properly. This was partly because of a fear of 80s production values – I couldn’t help but think that my enjoyment of her work would be hampered by an overload of cheesy synths and reverb. These fears have turned out to be unjustified, but it’s not hard to understand why I might have had them. Listening to the new tracks gave me a chance to sample a cross-section of her songs and decide from there if I thought her work was worth investigating further. The answer was, to echo the new version of the title track of The Sensual World, a resounding YES.

That song provides a good jumping-off point for approaching this album as a neophyte. I was only vaguely aware of the original song so on hearing the new version (now called 'Flower of the Mountain') I carried no baggage of expectation. All I knew was that she had succeeded in gaining permission from the notoriously protective Joyce estate to use Molly Bloom’s soliloquy from the end of Ulysses as the lyrics. People who were used to the 1989 version, with Bush’s own adapted lyrics, can’t seem to get their heads around the song now, but as far as I’m concerned it works much, much better (as would befit its original conception). As Bush said herself: ‘I’m not James Joyce’, - while her adapted lyrics are quite poetic, they have nothing on the fluid, rushing, earthy lines of the original text. The soliloquy lends itself extraordinarily well to music, with lines like ‘when I put the flower in my hair like the Andalusian girl used or shall I wear the red yes’ flowing gorgeously through the tune and giving the song a subtler yet more powerful sensuality than the original’s somewhat-overdone breathiness. The drums and bass are stronger on this version too, giving the song a secure scaffolding and letting the uilleann pipes come through with more clarity. It’s not only the new lyrics that make this the definitive version of this song.

Other tracks serve as complements to the originals, rather than supplanters. 'Deeper Understanding', told from the point of view of a programmer drawn into an obsessive relationship with a computer has been extended and reworked to include a creepy Auto-Tune effect on Kate’s voice in the chorus (when the computer is supposed to be addressing the programmer). Some have argued that this cheapens the song somewhat, ‘spelling out’ the meaning for the listener rather than leaving it ambiguous. My main issue with this song is that on first hearing I thought the obsession described by the narrator was simply the rush of becoming absorbed in the complexity and mystery of programming itself, but on closer listening the lyrics seem to indicate that the narrator installs a programme that directly simulates a friend, a meaning that strikes me as overly literal. The new video, starring Robbie Coltrane and Noel Fielding, seems to bear this interpretation out. The song would be more compelling if the concept of the narrator befriending or falling in love with the computer was approached metaphorically, framed in a story about absorption in the programming process. This issue remains the same in either version, so I have no preference of the new over the old track or vice versa – they are both musically interesting in different ways, and the use of a Bulgarian women’s choir in both is very well done. The extended ending of the new version has a good deal of experimentation in various electronic sounds which will appeal to some and not to others – again it’s a matter of taste. 

'This Woman’s Work' is one of the few tracks that has been completely re-recorded, in a lower key to accommodate Bush’s mature voice. Again I wasn’t familiar enough with the original to be especially attached to it over the new. The original scores points for being sparer and not as reverb-heavy as the new, but Bush’s current, slightly lower voice is more to my taste. In both versions the power of the song remains undiluted. The same can be said for 'Moments of Pleasure', another entirely re-recorded track. 

A few critics have referred to The Red Shoes as one of Bush’s weaker albums, which only leads you to amaze at how good the good stuff must be, if tracks such as 'Lily', 'Moments of Pleasure', 'The Song of Solomon', 'Top of the City' and the title track are ‘bad’ by her standards! The songs from The Red Shoes that have been re-recorded remain fairly close to the originals so again fans can’t froth too much at changes. Having listened to both the new and original versions I think these tracks benefit hugely from the more muscular drumming and deeper vocals they receive on Director’s Cut – the vocals on 'The Song of Solomon' and 'Top of the City' particularly are much more powerful and affecting than in the originals, and the new drum track on 'The Red Shoes' – a track Bush has said in interviews that she is particularly happy with – gives the song the full, crazy propulsion necessary to carry its whirling-dervish beat and melody. 

Bush’s reasoning for recording this album was that she felt that the songs on the two original albums were not produced as well as she would have liked. The results on Director’s Cut bear her creative judgement out. There have been so many developments in audio technology since 1989 and the digitisation of the two original albums, at a time when digital audio technology was still developing, seems to have given the originals a rather thin sound. Bush’s decision to transfer the audio to analogue and re-record the drums and vocals was intelligent – it brought out the strength of the instrumentation that had got lost in the digital mist, and the new additions helped to, well, make the songs louder, which they needed to be.

'Rubberband Girl' is the only track which doesn’t seem to benefit much from re-recording – it has a strangely muted audio quality, which, if intentional, was misguided.  But apart from that Kate Bush hasn’t put a foot wrong in this album, and unlike many established artists, she’s not just plugging the gap between albums with repackaged old albums – she’s actually put in studio time and commitment, and given her fans something new and interesting. Breath is bated for her new album, and in the meantime there’s a whole back catalogue to discover.

Master of a new medium

Eadweard J. Muybridge, Yosemite Creek: Summit of Falls at Low Water, 1872, mammoth-plate albumen print. California State Library, Sacramento

Tate Britain’s latest exhibition is an exploration of the work of the oddly named but immensely talented Eadward Muybridge, whose Studies in Animal Locomotion explored the idea of the moving image two decades before cinema was invented. Born Edward Muggeridge in Britain in 1830, he first emigrated to America in 1855 and built his career photographing San Francisco and the Yosemite national park in the years after the Civil War. He proved in 1878, using a sequence of photographs, that a horse’s hooves do indeed all leave the ground during a gallop, and he used the same technique to explore human movement in his seminal work in the 1880s, for which he remains most famous.

The Studies in Animal Locomotion remain interesting, revealing a particularly Victorian combination of science and voyueurism; attractive male and female models performed endless movements for Muybridge who captured the images using multiple cameras, since shutter speeds were not up to the task in the 1880s. Plenty of the ‘studies’ have no apparent scientific purpose, including one curtly titled ‘[Model] 8 pouring bucket of water over 6′, which shows one naked woman dumping a chilly stream over her squealing companion. Though indicating that Muybridge’s intentions were not always in the name of pure science; the more whimsical studies are still charming, especially one of a model leaning back in a chair smoking a cigarette and looking utterly relaxed.

Less ground-breaking, but frequently more beautiful, Muybridges’s earlier images of Yosemite and the lighthouses of the Californian coast form a substantial part of the exhibition. The photographer was hired to collect images of lighthouses in the 1860s for a federal authority, but the results are far from dry documentary: gorgeous albumen prints reveal sea spray turned to smoke by slow shutter speeds and cliff faces leaping out in almost 3D clarity. Elsewhere, he reveals the lives of people in transition; the exhibition contains photos from new coffee plantations in Guatemala and of rebellious Native Americans in California. San Francisco is captured in all its pre-1906 earthquake glory in a 17-foot panorama made up of several large photographs laid painstakingly end to end. The effect is somewhat distorted by the flatness of what should be a 360 degree view, but this aberration, along with the seemingly empty streets (the long exposure could not capture moving people in the photographs) gives the view an unearthly beauty a more accurate image would lack.

Muybridge’s work indicates a photographer who succeeded in bridging the gap between scientific accuracy and painterly aesthetics in the new medium. Even where the beauty of his images is unintentional, their preservation indicates an appreciation on his part of perfect imperfection. His motion studies and the zoopraxiscope, a prototype of the film projector he invented, have assured his place in history, but his landscape work and photojournalism are what really stand out for the modern viewer.

January/February?, 1964: John works on the composition of ‘If I Fell’. 

JOHN: So I hope you see that I / Would love to love you / I hope that she won’t cry / When she learns we are two / We’re two / Gonna be the two two of us in love / Two two of us in love…

The Beatles rehearse for the BBC radio show Teenager's Turn (Here We Go) in Manchester, England | 11 June 1962 © Mike McCartney

dying at "I'll be down in ten minutes to talk to you about the cardboard.'"

YOU KNOW HE WILL AND ALL

Paul & leadership, musically & otherwise

Link to masterpost of quote compilations

When Paul came in[to the band], things started to get a little bit more serious. Paul’s father had actually had a band, Jim Mac’s Jazz Band, so Paul was much more aware of the career possibilities than any of the rest of us were, because here his own dad had had a band. So things got a lot more structured and serious when Paul arrived. You can tell that by looking at the photograph of us in July ’57, when we were at St Peter’s Church, a bunch of guys in checked shirts, and in November ’57, when you have John and Paul in smart white jackets and everybody in little bootlace ties. I mean, already Paul’s influence was evident, you know?

Rod Davis (of The Quarrymen), interview w/ Gillian G. Gaar for Goldmine: Before they were Beatles, they were Quarrymen. (November 28th, 2012)

COLIN: Paul would have allowed John to feel that he was the boss anyway. Paul wouldn’t have gotten head to head with John, but Paul would have got his own way if you’d like, carefully, by maneuvering and perhaps letting John think it was his idea. I think that’s the way Paul was. LEN: I think it was part of his characteristic, really. Part of his characteristic. You know, when we started off as The Quarrymen, we were a gang of scruffs, we could dress whatwe’d like, checked shirts, anything we would like. But I’m pretty sure it was Paul’s idea that one night at Clubmoor we dressed a bit smarter – you know, the white coats and the black ties. I think – it wouldn’t be John’s idea. John was more interested in the music and the entertainment. “We can dress what we like as long as we’re enjoying ourselves.” But I think Paul was more... I don’t know. Image-minded, you know. Worried more about the image. COLIN: Paul was very much the diplomat. He would never get a quick answer off Paul. He would always think about what was the right answer; not what the answer should’ve been, but perhaps what you wanted to hear.

2003: The Quarrymen talk about Paul

“I can well remember even at the rehearsal at his house in Forthlin Road, Paul was quite specific about how he wanted it played and what he wanted the piano to do. There was no question of improvising. We were told what we had to play. There was a lot of arranging going on even back then."

John Duff Lowe pianist on their first ever recording, In Spite of All the Danger

“During one Cavern performance of ‘Over the Rainbow’, John leaned back on the piano, pointed to Paul, burst into raucous laughter and shouted, “God, he’s doing Judy Garland!” Paul had to keep singing in the knowledge that John was pulling crips and Quasis behind his back or making strange sounds on his guitar to interrupt him. Yet, if Paul stopped in the middle of the number, John would stare around the stage, the essence of innocence. […] Paul took such behavior from no one but John, but also he gave it back and was strong minded enough to carry on doing what he wanted, knowing how much the audience liked it. He sang these songs well, and added one more to the portfolio at this time, the Broadway show number ‘Till There Was You’. John really had a go at Paul for singing this—but didn’t try to stop him doing it, recognizing there was scope for all kinds of music in this group, to please all kinds of audiences.”

Mark Lewisohn, Tune In: The Beatles: All These Years (unFUCKING believable that Lewisohn uses this as an example of John's leadership and not Paul's)

As they near the club, they start to discern the sounds of a band rehearsing a poppy, recently released Elvis number called “It’s Now Or Never”, refitted that summer from the melody of “O Sole Mio”. As the pair near the door of the bar, Lennon realises it is his band, and that the voice singing is that of his fellow Beatle, Paul McCartney. Lennon, to put it mildly, is unimpressed by this proposed extension of the group’s repertoire. “He said, ‘What the fucking hell is he doing now?’” remembers Griff, today. “Lennon was a rocker. He stormed in the club and said, ‘What are you doing?’ Paul said: ‘This is a popular song—they’ll love this.’ And of course the audiences did.”

Brian Griffiths, interview w/ John Robinson for Uncut: ‘A roaring rock’n’roll band in leathers and cowboy boots… but they changed.’ (March, 2012)

The observations Sam Leach had of the teenaged boys seems to put Paul in the leadership position, not John: “Even when we went to shows, Paul had the ideas, made the decisions — about what clubs to play in, for example, new things to try on stage. He was the idea man, John was a bit lazy when it came to doing stuff.”

Larry Kane. “When They Were Boys.

The other Quarry Men did not take quite so strongly to Paul. 'I always thought he was a bit big- headed,' Nigel Walley says. 'As soon as we let him into the group, he started complaining about the money I was getting them, and saying I should take less as I didn't do any playing. He was always smiling at you, but he could be catty as well. He used to pick on our drummer, Colin - not to his face; making catty remarks about him behind his back. Paul wanted something from the drums that Colin didn't have it in him to play.' "Paul was always telling me what to do," Colin Hanton says. "Can't you play it this way?" he'd say, and even try to show me on my own drums. He'd make some remark to me. I'd sulk. John would say "Ah, let him alone, he's all right." But I knew they only wanted me because I'd got a set of drums.' Even Pete Shotton - still a close friend and ally - noticed a change in John after Paul's arrival. "There was one time when they played a really dirty trick on me. I knew John would never have been capable of it on his own. It was so bad that he came to me later and apologised. I'd never known him to do that before for anyone.' It was shortly after Paul joined the Quarry Men that they bought proper stage outfits of black trousers, black bootlace ties and white cowboy shirts with fringes along the sleeves. John and Paul, in addition, wore white jackets; the other three played in their shirtsleeves. Eric Griffiths, though also a guitarist, did not have the jacket-wearing privilege. A cheerful boy, he did not recognise this for the augury it was.

Shout!: The True Story of the Beatles (Philip Norman)

Gerry Marsden also has his own interesting theory about Paul’s left-handed guitar playing: “He and John were able to get their faces close up together at the microphone for the vocals, unlike most players. So when they were singing, it was like a love affair with each other, and the mike between them. In every photograph they are tight together and the effect is very powerful. In those days, we didn’t have a microphone each: we shared one, so for Macca to plan this effect for the Beatles, as I’m certain he did, was brilliant.”

“What The Stars Said About Them.” Beatles Book Monthly Magazine No. 205 (May 1993).

“Paul was very good,” said Eric [Griffiths, of The Quarrymen]. “We could all see that. He was precocious in many ways. Not just in music but in relating to people.” […] His charm also worried John, according to Eric. “We were all walking down Halewood Drive to my house to do some practising. I was walking ahead with John. The others were behind. John suddenly said: ‘Let’s split the group, and you and me will start again.’ “We could hear Paul behind us, chatting to Pete [Shotton] as if he was Pete’s best friend. John knew we were all his pals, but now Paul was trying to get in on us. Not to split us up, just make friends with us all. I’m sure that was all it was, but to John it looked as if Paul was trying to take over, dominate the group. I suppose he was worried it could disrupt the balance, upset the group dynamics, as we might say today. “I said to him: ‘Paul’s so good. He’ll contribute a lot to the group. We need him with us.’ John said nothing. But after that the subject was never mentioned again.”

Eric Griffiths, c/o Hunter Davies, Sunday Times: A Beatle’s boyhood. (March 25th, 2001)

“[John] didn’t like it one bit, paying to play did not sit right with John Lennon… but we did eventually pay to go in — John included, and it was Paul McCartney who convinced John we should do so… Paul’s reasoning was we were more than good enough to win the prize money. He argued that as we would soon be walking off with the cash prize anyway, so we could afford to pay to go inside… So we all did cough up and in we trooped, set up, performed and, of course, proceeded not to win. It was undoubtedly a reality check for our new super-confidant guitarist. We all came away out of pocket, but steeped in admiration for Paul’s enthusiasm and blind faith in the Quarry Men’s ability. He had impressed us all.”

Colin Hanton and Colin Hall, Pre-Fab, The Book Guild, 2018.

‘When Paul joined the band, things changed… but it wasn’t an overnight change,’ Colin Hanton remembers. ‘Paul was shrewd. He realised from the start that John liked to think of himself as the dominant force, but he needed Paul to teach him proper guitar chords, which was the way in to playing more rock ‘n’ roll material. He recognised John was the power in the group and that the best way to take him on was to do it subtly.’ Paul’s most immediate effect on the Quarrymen was in their presentation. ‘You could see he had this show business side to him,’ Colin Hanton says, ‘while John just lived for the music.’ The group had always worn what they liked onstage, but now John accepted Paul’s suggestion of a uniform: black trousers, white Western-style shirts and black bootlace ties. On 23 November, they had a return booking at the New Clubmoor Hall, where Paul had previously mucked up ‘Guitar Boogie’. He was determined to cut a better figure this time. ‘He had this sort of oatmeal jacket–he’d worn it to the Woolton fete–and he let it be known to John that when we did the gig, he was going to wear the jacket,’ Hanton remembers. ‘So the gig got nearer and then one day John turned up and he had got a cream jacket that was lighter than Paul’s. It was John’s way of saying “Hey, I’m cooler than you.”’

Philip Norman, Paul McCartney: The Life. (2016)

“During playbacks, John and Paul would often huddle together and discuss whether a take was good enough; they’d talk about what they were hearing and what they wanted to fix or do differently,” “John wasn’t casual about making records, not in the early years, anyway. Still, it was Paul who was always striving to get things the best that they could possibly be.” While Lennon might not have shared McCartney’s perfectionism, he respected and went along with it. He may not have had the same attitude toward Martin, though. “Certainly George Martin couldn’t get away with that,” “If he dared try, they would bite his head off. There was never any doubt in my mind that Paul and John viewed George Martin as a helpmate, not as their equal.”

Geoff Emerick in his book Here, There and Everywhere: My Life Recording the Music of the Beatles.

“John is an original. New ideas just come to him. Paul has great originality but he’s also an arranger. He can get things done, which John can’t, or can’t be bothered trying. They do need, and they don’t need, each other. Either is true. Paul is as talented a composer as John. They could easily have done well on their own.”

Astrid Kirchherr in 1967, from The Beatles, by Hunter Davies.

In the early days my role was to tidy things up, musically - to put songs into some sort of perspective. (I would also give a commercial estimate of their worth) I might take a phrase out of the middle of ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’, for example, pointing out that the phrase should have started the song, or, as on ‘Please Please Me’, say ‘Speed it up, maybe; that’s all it needs, really… ’ I think John learned from this kind of input. He learned a whole lot more from Paul, though: musical structure; organization in his song writing; how to make a song telling. He also learned the value of a good ‘hook’ —the catchy bit, for example the guitar riff that starts ‘Day Tripper’, the harmonica from ‘Love Me Do’.

George Martin

John used to find it hard to express himself, I was in a position where I really had to read his mind, and he didn’t have a lot of patience. He would accept something that was sort of 95% good, whereas Paul would want it 100% good. So Paul to me has always been the musician and the one that was a musicians sort of musician. I mean Paul was a good drummer, a good guitarist, a good keyboard player and he sort of held the band and brought them to that perfection part of things, John would let things easily go. And of course John did not like the sound of his voice either. No matter how much you told him how great his voice sounded, he always wanted tape echo on it or something done to it.

Geoff Emerick interview w/ Alan Light for Blender.com (2009)

Paul was the one who sort of saved the situation always, the one who always went that little bit extra to perfect things you know. Especially because on Paul’s songs, we’d spend a considerable amount of time doing Paul’s songs because he knew exactly really what he wanted whereas John didn’t. The time we spent on some of John’s songs was a bit less than Paul’s songs, but if Paul, I think, thought that a John song was going slightly a bit, you know, lopsided, he’d interject and sort of make sure it really was polished.

Geoff Emerick interview w/ Alan Light for Blender.com (2009)

Q: If you had a favourite out of all The Beatles, who did you find yourself drawn to? Geoff: Oh, Paul, obviously! I mean, Paul was the musician’s musician. And I think Paul had an understanding of what I was doing as well; because he knew I was into instruments and so forth, you know, listening to musical instruments and crafting them, let’s put it that way. […] He was the one who always wanted a 110%.

Geoff Emerick, interviewed for ABC’s 7.30 program, for the 50th anniversary of Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. (25 May 2017)

"I don’t want to take anything away from anyone, but production of the Beatles was very simple, because it was ready-made. Paul was a very great influence in terms of the production, especially in terms of George Harrison’s guitar solos and Ringo’s drumming. The truth of the matter is that, to the best of my memory, Paul had a great hand in practically all of the songs that we did, and Ringo would generally ask him what he should do. After all, Paul was no mean drummer himself, and he did play drums on a couple of things. It was almost like we had one producer in the control room and another producer down in the studio. There is no doubt at all that Paul was the main musical force. He was also that in terms of production as well. A lot of the time George Martin didn’t really have to do the things he did because Paul McCartney was around and could have done them equally well… most of the ideas came from Paul".

Norman Smith (The Beatles recording engineer from Please Please Me through Rubber Soul), McCartney by Chris Salewicz

“If you take ‘Across The Universe’, for example: that’s like a folk song without his production on it, [which is] kind of slightly heavy handed. I think it would have been very different if my Dad had done it. Not necessarily better; just very different. I think Paul’s main issue with what happened is that he normally had a lot of input into the arrangements, and he didn’t with Spector – they arranged it without him. I was listening to [off-cuts from 1966’s] ‘Eleanor Rigby’ and even at that early stage you can hear my Dad saying, ‘Do you want that vibrato or not vibrato, Paul?’”

Producer Giles Martin

JOHN: [singing operatically] Well, let me tell you… [Small laughs] Everybody has all the ambitions. Everybody’s full of ambition, and uh, it’s like – uh, once I gave George the advice on songwriting, [which is] that when you start one, finish it. And I think I got the advice from Paul, or working with Paul. But it’s like anything. If you have an idea, the only – the best way is to try and do it right away, otherwise you won’t do it, and that’s called ambition, you know.

October 22nd, 1969 (Apple Corps, London): Detroit DJ John Small

Paul: OK, and that’s great, you know. And then – it’s just being able to say that, on the occasion, just being – say, “Look, I’m not going to say anything about the song, because it’ll be difficult … to sing it to you.” John: Yeah, I know, but you wouldn’t say – listen to me – you probably arranged it you know? Paul: I know, I know. John: Well, I’m saying that “Dear Prudence” is arranged. Can’t you hear [John vocalizes part of the song]. That is the arrangement, you know? But I’m too frightened to say “This is it.” I just sit there and say, “Look, if you don’t come along and play your bit, I won’t do the song,” you know? I can’t do any better than that. Don’t ask me for what movie* you’re gonna play on it. Because apart from not knowing, I can’t tell you better than you have, what grooves you can play on it. You know, I just can’t work. I can’t do it like that. I never could, you know. But when you think of the other half of it, just think, how much more have I done towards helping you write? I’ve never told you what to sing or what to play. You know, I’ve always done the numbers like that. Now, the only regret, just the past numbers, is when because I’ve been so frightened, that I’ve allowed you to take it somewhere where I didn’t want

Jan. 13: The Lunchroom Tape

PAUL: We – we haven’t played together, you see! That’s the fucking thing. But when we do come together to play together, we all just sort of talk about the fleeting past! We’re like old-age pensioners! [British geriatric voice] “Remember the days when we used to rock?” You know, but we’re here now! We can do it, you know. But I mean, I’m – all I hoping for is enthusiasm from you— PAUL: You see the thing is also, I, I get to a bit where I just sort of push all my ideas, you know, and I know that my ideas aren’t the best, you know. They are [mechanical voice] “good, good, good” but they’re not the best, you know. We can improve on it. Because we write songs good, and we improve on it. [to Ringo] And you can improve on your drumming like it is, if you get into it. If you don’t, you know, then okay, I have better ideas, but if you get into it, you’re better! You know. It’s like that.

Twickenham, January 6th

"I always had the impression that Brian used to worry about Paul, that he was a bit frightened of him perhaps because he was so strong-willed in his opinions about the exact details of how the Beatles’ career should progress. Even though they could also be as thick as thieves about such matters, Brian was always circumspect when talking to Paul about things of any great importance. John and Brian always seemed to get on all right. But Paul would argue with Brian, and as far as I could see, Brian always gave in."

Brian Sommerville, McCartney by Chris Salewicz

“Sgt Pepper had not yet been released, but already Paul was explaining to Brian at length his plan for the Magical Mystery Tour movie. Every few seconds Brian would make a note on a scrap of paper. Paul drew the whole plan out as a diagram, a cosmic plan with time and action and motion. Brian could translate this, as he could all Beatles commands, into a specific timetable of booked studios, rehearsal halls, rented equipment, tea for forty-five people and everything else they needed, without the Beatles even knowing what degree of organisation was required to satisfy their often obscure and demanding requests. Brian was on Paul’s wavelength and treated him as the most organised Beatle, who could in turn translate management needs back to the other three. It was the last time I saw Brian.”

Barry Miles, In the Sixties

To Lennon, [Paul] was "cute, and didn’t he know it," a born performer who was also a "thruster" and an "operator" behind the scenes.

Christopher Sandford, Paul McCartney, 2005

Because Paul was the natural PR man within the group, it was Paul with whom I worked most. In a sense, I used him to manipulate the others, because that’s what he was doing all the time anyway. I suspect that Paul got his way more than John did within the group, but in a far more subtle manner. He was a smooth operator, as he is to this day. Metaphorically, he still takes that last look in the mirror. His critics now think of him as calculating and selfish, but you could level the charge of selfishness at any great performer. Any artist who is not self-centred will not sustain himself—and self-centred is what Paul is. I soon found out that his management of himself is total. That’s why he always found it so difficult in his solo years to get management that would be satisfactory to him. Everybody knows that all Paul needs is to surround himself with people who will carry out his ideas and do what he says. He considers himself, as he did then, to be self-sufficient. That’s different from John. It is why the partnership worked so well in the early days.

Tony Barrow, Daily Mail. (February 16th, 1998)

And only until John became what he is now – which is after John’s death that people started to revere John – it became an issue for Paul. Because you have to understand that table was turned many times. One, when John made the Jesus Christ remark, and Paul became virtually a leader. And John turned the table on Paul by becoming a partner with me, probably. But then the thing is, the table was turned again by Paul becoming extremely successful with Wings. So he was doing alright, while John did Some Time in New York City with me, and then followed that with Mind Games or something, you know.

1990: Yoko

“I hear tell, I said, "that you can all be downright rude - and have been.” “Of course we’ve been rude - but only rude back,” he [John] explained. “Have you any clue about the things people say and do to us? "We’re not cruel. We’ve seen enough tragedy on Merseyside. But when a mother shrieks, ‘just touch him and maybe he will walk again,’ we want to run, cry or just empty our pockets. It’s a great emotional drag, and this is where Paul helps out. He’s the diplomat with the soft soap. He can turn on that smile like little May sunshine and we’re out of trouble. "We’ve a very tight school, the Beatles. We’re like a machine that goes boom, boomchick, chickboom, each of us with our own little job to do. We’re just like dogs who can hear high-pitched sounds that humans can’t.

The Daily Mirror: The one that bites – Donald Zec dissects Mr J. Lennon. (March 1965)

JOHN: Well, that’s the game they play. Neil Aspinall plays that game too. At one point, in one of the Northern Songs proceedings, I sent a telegram to Neil, because I’d heard he’d been doing things behind me back, and I said: “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” Because I was the one that protected him many times from Paul. Paul had no love for Neil, and vice versa. And all of a sudden he’s a Paul man. Because they clung to Paul—Derek included—because they all thought Paul was the one who was going to hold it all together. So they had a choice of which side to come down on, and they chose Paul, and the past, and at that moment I cut ‘em off.

John Lennon, interview w/ Peter McCabe and Robert Schonfeld. (September, 1971)

It seemed that John had cut me off not just from him but from the whole Beatles family. The only person who came to see me was Paul. He arrived one sunny afternoon, bearing a red rose, and said, 'I’m so sorry, Cyn, I don’t know what’s come over him. This isn’t right.’ On the way down to see us he had written a song for Julian. It began as ‘Hey Jules’ and later became 'Hey Jude’, which sounded better. Ironically John thought it was about him when he first heard it. It went on to become one of the Beatles’ most successful singles ever, spending nine weeks at number one in the US and two weeks in the UK. Paul stayed for a while. He told me that John was bringing Yoko to recording sessions, which he, George and Ringo hated. […] He joked about us getting married - 'How about it, Cyn?’ - and I was grateful to him for cheering me up and caring enough to come. He was the only member of the Beatles family who’d had the courage to defy John – who had apparently made it quite clear that he expected everyone to follow his lead in cutting me off. But Paul was his own man and not afraid of John. In fact, musically and personally, the two were beginning to go in separate directions so perhaps Paul’s visit to me was also a statement to John.”

Cynthia Lennon, John

“They were the first group I had heard who sounded just like they did on record. You could tell John was the leader, he had a look somehow, a bit of a hard case, but I actually think it was Paul who was in charge.”

Andre Wheeldon, musician

Q: What were the Beatles like to deal with…It was said that John wasn’t the easiest to deal with, Paul was a delight to work with.

A: If we’re talking…professionally, those were the days I was a PR man; and therefore to a man who was doing publicity for the Beatles, Paul had to be the greatest joy of the four because he was the one who organized everyone else. He was the one who posed for the photographers, he was he one who said c’mon chaps, let’s do the interview, let’s do the photograph or whatever. John, in that respect, was more difficult, but John….is the most misunderstood man, actually, because beneath all that bravado and rudeness–and sheer rudeness a lot of the time– there was a genius, and there was also a man who was afraid. I mean all that noise he made was in fact a coverup for being rather a frightened man. Q: He was a shy man… A: Yes, yes indeed. And that is how an awful lot of shy people cover it up by making a lot of noise.”

Tony Barrow, TVAM interview

Paul came across in 1963 as a fun-loving, footloose bachelor who turned on his charm to devastating effect when he wanted to manipulate rivals, colleagues or women he fancied. (...) He had enormous powers of persuasion within The Beatles. He would get his own way by subtlety and suaveness where John resorted to shouting and bullying. John may have been the loudest Beatle but Paul was the shrewdest. I watched him twist the others round to his point of view in all sorts of contentious situations, some trivial, some more significant, some administrative, some creative.

George told me that when he joined Paul and John in the line-up of The Quarry Men in 1958, Paul was already acting as though he was the decision-maker in the group. According to George: "I knew perfectly well that this was John's band and John was my hero, my idol, but from the way Paul talked he gave every indication that he was the real leader, the one who dictated what The Quarry Men would do and where they should be going as a group." This made sense to me because, from what I saw for myself in 1963 and later, Paul's opinions and ideas tended to prevail with The Beatles, particularly on matters of musical policy such as whether a new number was worth recording or whether the running order for the group's stage show needed altering slightly. I didn't see any of the others resist him. They seemed to welcome Paul getting his way by winning arguments with John. When Paul wanted something badly enough from Brian Epstein he would speak softly, wooing the man rather than intimidating him. Epstein's defences would melt away as Paul looked him straight in the eye. In terms of song lyrics, Paul's idea of romantic was 'Michelle', John's was 'Norwegian Wood'.

John, Paul, George, Ringo & Me: The Real Beatles Story, Tony Barrow (2005)

“PAUL: John used to say, ‘I’m the leader of this group!’ and we used to say, 'It’s only because you fucking shout louder than anyone else!’ It wasn’t as if we didn’t know how to do that, it was just nobody wanted to shout and be so uptight about it. Nobody cared as much as he did about being the leader. Actually I have always quite enjoyed being second. I realised why it was when I was out riding: whoever is first opens all the gates. If you’re second you just get to walk through. They’ve knocked down all the walls, they’ve taken all the stinging nettles, they take all the shit and whoever’s second, which is damn near to first, waltzes through and has an easy life. You’re still up with number one. Number one still needs you as his companion, so I think my relationship to John is something to do with this attitude.

paul mccartney: many years from now, barry miles

“When I came out of the Beatles, I got slated for being a bit too heavy with the other guys in the band,” he said. “It was a bit as if I was taking over as the manager. I thought with the new band, I’ll give them total freedom, so no one can accuse me of that again . . . and you can’t do that either. You started to have people saying, ‘Hey man, c’mon, produce us.’ No one would take up the baton, the role. So I came back to that. “The whole of ‘Wings Mark I’ was to see if that could be done. But there was too much indecision, and I wasn’t willing enough to take the thing by the scruff of the neck and say, ‘Look, I think we’ve gotta organize the solos you’re gonna play.’ It was a bit like we’re gonna be the Grateful Dead and we’re just gonna play what comes up. But to do that you’ve gotta know each other for a long time.”

The McCartney Legacy, Volume 1: 1969 – 1973 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair (2022)

“Coming out of The Beatles, I’d kind of got burned by being told I was too overbearing. So I really backed off too far in the early days of Wings. Having to be diplomatic and say ‘Um, perhaps we should do this’ doesn’t work either. You have chaos and confusion. Eventually somebody says: 'Why don’t you tell us what you want?’ and I’d think, 'I just got a bollocking for doing that!’ There was a bit of that in early Wings which caused difficulties.”

Paul McCartney, The Word, October 2005

But it was always hard for you to lock a line-up with Wings. Was it a benign dictatorship? That’s what they thought it was. The thing is, if you come out of The Beatles and you go in another group, you’re not just anyone. You’re the guy out of The Beatles. So, y’know, if anyone’s gonna make a decision, it should probably be him. But I mean, having said that, it was a team thing. Y’know, if anyone didn’t like stuff, we didn’t do it. You could never force musicians to do stuff. But you’d suggest strongly.

The Q Interview, 2007

“That’s difficult. I really don’t know,” he says. “What I first thought of was: listen to people’s opinions more, particularly within the group. But I did listen to people’s opinions and what would happen was I would feel like I had to give my opinion and not get too nervous, because you’ve got to be strong in those situations. There were times when John would bring a song in and I could have just gone, ‘That’s great John, let’s do it like that.’ But the producer in me would think, ‘No, that’s not going to work, why don’t we try it like that.’ So something like ‘Come Together’ would never have been as cool if I’d just been listening to the way John brought it in. And there were a few little instances like that where we would insist on it being one way. So I can’t actually think what I’d say to him. I’d say: You’re a good kid, I love you.”

NME Big Read – Paul McCartney

I had to fight at EMI even for things like the thickness of the cardboard. EMI were always trying to give me less and less thick cardboard. I said, 'Look, when I was a kid, I loved my records, the good ones, and I wanted to protect them and thick cardboard would keep my records. That's all I want to do is give the kids who buy our stuff something to protect our records.' 'Well now, Paul, we can't do it, the volume you boys sell at. If we can save point oh oh pence ... And you can't tell the difference.' 'I bloody can! That's a thin piece of cardboard!' But I got my thick cardboard. I was always arguing for things like that. It somehow fell to me. Later people put me down for that, 'Oh, he was always the pushy one, the PR one.' The truth was, no other fucker would do it! And it had to get done, and I was living in London and I could hop in a taxi and go down Manchester Square and say, 'I'll be down in ten minutes to talk to you about the cardboard.'

Paul McCartney, Many Years From Now

'An empty theatre is a promise unfulfilled'

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Empire builder

  HBO are pulling out all the stops for their new series, the 1920s-set Boardwalk Empire, starring Steve Buscemi. The feature-length pilot episode was directed by Martin Scorsese and is said to have cost over $18 million, with the first series overall running to over $70 million. Jazz Age-era Atlantic City was recreated to exacting detail on a huge set in Brooklyn, and it seems no expense has been spared in evoking the look and feel of the 1920s, down to the last detail. It’s clear that HBO are hoping Boardwalk Empire will be the next Sopranos or The Wire, a huge, complex, involving series that draws the viewer in and hooks them for multiple episodes. Perhaps taking a leaf from AMC’s book, Boardwalk Empire appears to be trying to recreate an entire era and mindset in the same way the much-loved Mad Men does for the early 1960s.

The show revolves around the chief treasurer of Atlantic City, Enoch ‘Nucky’ Thompson (loosely based on the real-life Nucky Johnson) and his role as the public face of respectable Prohibition-era temperance – a face built on his private criminal empire that keeps the city, in his words, ‘wet as a mermaid’s twat’ (You gotta love flapper-era obscenity). The pilot episode was an epic combination of classic gangster themes, beautifully exact period detail and intense characterisation and was pretty much a movie in itself. The question is; can Boardwalk Empire live up to its own expectations?

I haven’t yet managed to get into The Wire – not for lack of interest, more that it seems too huge to embark on – but I’m a fan of both shows that Boardwalk Empire can be said to be referencing: The Sopranos and Mad Men (and, to a lesser extent, Rome). The twelve years of Prohibition are a fascinating and oddly ignored period of American history. From the very moment alcohol was outlawed in 1920, it not only remained widely available, but was even more intensely sought out than it was before. The criminal empires of such legendary figures of Arnold Rothstein, Lucky Luciano and Al Capone (all of whom appear in Boardwalk Empire) were built on illegal alcohol, and set in motion the terrifying, compelling gangster world that in some ways defined 20th-century America. Boardwalk Empire depicts the beginning of a world that the real-life Tony Soprano caught the drug-addled tail-end of. Not only that, but the 1920s were a period of intense social change in America and worldwide – women finally got the vote in all states, the First World War challenged the myth of loyalty to king and nation and black people began to place their stake in society and culture in a major way with the emigrations from the South and the development of jazz. This was a period when films about homosexuality were being freely made in Weimar Germany and even the relatively prudish United States was infinitely more liberated in its popular culture than it would be after the Hollywood Production Code.

So does Boardwalk Empire do this febrile period in history justice? Rather like the epic times it’s set in, it tends to succeed and fail on grandiose terms. Firstly, I have to comment on the ear-wrenching horror that is Kelly MacDonald’s attempt at an Irish accent. It probably isn’t the most dramatic failure of the series, but it is certainly the most audible. MacDonald plays an Irish immigrant named Margaret Schroeder, whose abusive husband comes to a sticky end in the pilot and whose subtly combative relationship with Nucky Thompson is the key dramatic fulcrum of the early episodes. Margaret is an interesting character; almost impossibly meek and virginal in early episodes; she reveals a will of steel and appealing sense of wickedness as the series unfolds. But that accent! Imagine Julia Roberts in Far and Away and you’re halfway there. Considering MacDonald is Scottish and a talented actor, one would expect her to do better. However a radio interview I caught once with an accent coach may provide an explanation, not only for MacDonald’s accent, but for all the hideous ‘brogues’ that are inflicted upon viewers of US movies and TV. According to the coach, when an American actor is taught an ‘Irish’ accent, s/he is encouraged to speak in a ridiculous ‘begorrah’ voice because apparently American viewers cannot tell the difference between an average Irish voice and an English one, and cannot understand a genuinely thick Irish accent. I’m inclined to believe this, if only because it explains why otherwise competent actors seem to consistently fall so spectacularly at the hurdle of the brogue. Left to her own devices, I’m confident Kelly MacDonald could sound convincingly Irish, but since HBO’s audiences are largely from the States (except for those who watch its programmes from various dubious streaming sources….ahem) she has been instructed to speak like Chris O’Donnell in Circle of Friends. The theory is backed up by the fact that not a single review of the show on Slate, Vanity Fair, Time Magazine and any number of US blogs has commented on her accent. Terrifyingly, she must sound genuinely Irish to them!

It’s a credit to MacDonald’s acting skills that Margaret is an interesting character despite her voice being less pleasant to listen to than nails on a blackboard. But she’s taken a while to establish herself, which leads into one of the other problems of the series – the use of lazy shorthand in defining some of the female characters. The other woman in Nucky’s life is the cartoonishly slutty Lucy, who is ‘acted’ by Paz de la Huerta as some weird combination of a sleep-walking crack whore and an extra from ‘Chicago’. She’s an utterly ridiculous character, and seems to exist purely to be the whore to Margaret’s madonna, even though Margaret develops into a far more complex character than her Temperance League goody-two-shoes persona in the pilot. There’s plenty of scenes involving Nucky and his ‘business associates’ living it up with good-time girls, but these don’t feel gratuitous in the way scenes involving Lucy do. She might as well have big red arrows pointing at her saying ‘Scarlet Woman!’. Other characters are written in a subtle and intelligent way, so there’s no excuse for this nonsense. Another female character, the mother of Nucky’s young protégé-turned-bad, Jimmy Darmody, is well-acted by Gretchen Mol but horribly miscast. Anne Bancroft as a woman who could be Dustin Hoffman’s mother in The Graduate is more plausible casting than Mol as Jillian Darmody. As the reviewer Paul Martinovic on Den of Geek has been saying: ‘And, as for Gretchen Mol, the only interest I have in her character is once more getting the answer to this question: just how did you give birth when you were nine years old?’. Unlike Martinovic, I think that Jillian is an interesting character, but her appearance compared to her ‘son’ is as jarring as Margaret’s accent. It yet again seems to confirm 21st-century TV’s mortal fear of casting a woman over 40 in a leading role.

These are the two most glaring problems in the show, but when they are laid aside, there’s a lot to like. Chiefly Steve Buscemi, in his first TV leading role, who pulls the show together as the enigmatic, subtle and nattily-dressed Nucky Thompson. Nucky, as Jimmy Darmody puts it, is trying to be ‘half a gangster’ – living the high life on the proceeds of bribery and kickbacks, supplying Atlantic City with booze through deals with Italian gangsters, but trying to keep his hands clean and his head above the murderous violence that Prohibition is helping to engender. Nucky is the go-to man in Atlantic City when anyone has a problem, yet despite his double life he hasn’t lost his true human side; as the show unfolds his complex nature becomes apparent. It helps that Steve Buscemi is such a compelling actor – he packs more narrative into a single glance than most would with reams of dialogue. This is the biggest leading role he has taken on to date, and it’s great to see him finally shaking off the constraints of being a ‘character actor’.

The opening episode shows Nucky’s tendency to try and have his cake and eat it, as he strikes a deal to provide Arnold Rothstein with oceans of booze, only for Jimmy and Rothstein’s driver, one Al Capone, to secretly plot the hijacking and robbery of the consignment. The smoothly-planned operation goes awry and ends in bloodshed. To protect his reputation, Nucky arranges for Margaret’s husband to be framed and killed (helped by his knowledge that he beats her), the booze to be dumped and pays Jimmy off to make himself scarce. This leads Jimmy to set up camp with Al in Chicago. Despite Nucky’s attempts at damage-limitation Rothstein doesn’t take kindly to being deprived of his end of the deal, and the incident sets in motion a slow-burning feud between Nucky and Rothstein and his crew of thugs, including Lucky Luciano. The action moves between Atlantic City, New York and Chicago, as the family tree of the big gangs is traced and their evolution explained. A recurring theme is the shock experienced by the nineteenth-century surviving gang bosses, mostly of Irish, Greek and Jewish extraction, at the levels of random violence used by the new, mostly Italian generation – embodied in the person of Al Capone, played with a scary viciousness by English actor Stephen Graham. African-Americans feature too – one of Nucky’s bootlegging associates is the grimly commanding Chalky White, played by Michael K. Williams of The Wire fame.

Michael Pitt, an actor I’d never heard of before, is a revelation as Jimmy Darmody. Some blogs have unkindly intimated that he’s the ‘poor man’s diCaprio’, but while he shares some of the same intense qualities as Leonardo, he is more than able to make the role his own. Jimmy is a war veteran who’s had his humanity blunted by the horrors of Verdun, yet his fierce intelligence and philosophical nature have saved him from the depraved depths the other Chicago gangsters he works with sink to. He is exacting in his revenge, but knows that as an Irish-American he will always be an outsider with the Italians, and needs, like Nucky, to decide once and for all if he is ‘fully a gangster’. As an aside, the various ethnicities cheerfully use now-unacceptable derogatory terms to refer to each other – terms like ‘dumb Mick’, ‘fucking kike’ and ‘filthy Hun’ abound.

The anti-gangster is as alarming and unappealing as Al Capone and Lucky Luciano at their worst. Nelson van Aldren, Fed agent and head of the anti-Prohibition drive in Atlantic City, is a man so repressed as to be barely human. He recites Bible passages while torturing a man for information, and whips himself rather than admit to his passion for Margaret. Van Aldren is on a mission: to gather enough evidence to bring down Nucky Thompson, and will stop at nothing to get it. He could be cartoonish but Michael Shannon imbues the character with a surprising humanity, as well as being possessed of the most compelling voice I’ve heard in a long time. The unhealthy puritanism that drove much of Prohibition is personified in van Aldren, but at the same time the show avoids simplifying the issue – Prohibition was not inspired merely by prudes, but by many who genuinely believed banning alcohol would help working-class people rise out of the terrible conditions they suffered in the late 19th and early 20th century. It was a popular cause with suffragettes too, who had valid reason to believe that alcohol made more women’s lives a misery than men’s. This aspect of the movement perhaps explains why the independent-thinking Margaret becomes involved in the Women’s Temperance League in the first place. These women were not just the schoolmistress-y prudes of popular cliché, but fighters for the good cause.

There are endless other narrative threads in this programme, but they can’t all be contained in one blog post! Boardwalk Empire is not perfect – it suffers occasionally from heavy-handedness and there are a few too many characters and stories running simultaneously – but the richness of the plotting and acting makes up for this. Its production values are glossily gorgeous too, only let down by the rather obviously CGI-generated ocean in the boardwalk scenes. Like Mad Men, it succeeds in evoking the period with little, well-observed details. The full ferment of the early 1920s, the period where the 19th and 20th centuries clashed resoundingly, is called up in the clothes, conversation and rooms of the characters.

One of the best episodes so far is ‘Nights in Ballygran’ where the self-delusions and sentimentality of Irish-Americans is brilliantly exposed. The spectre of a largely imaginary Ireland looms heavily over the lives of many of the characters, informing actions and lifestyles that would be unrecognisable ‘back home’. Yet some of the attendees at Nucky Thompson’s St Patrick’s Day dinner reminded me unnervingly of the sickenly complacent Fianna Fail TDs that have recently been exposed for the criminals they are. That’s the kind of programme Boardwalk Empire is – by holding up a mirror to the past, it tells us a lot about the present.

Charley Foxx, Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder at the Scotch of St James club, 1966.

“When on tour I have to write essays about the places I visit. In the essay I’ll be writing when I get back I’ll certainly include my meeting with Paul McCartney. I met him in the Scotch Of St James club. He’s a really swinging guy, the only Beatle I’ve met.”

15-year-old Stevie Wonder, NME, 18 February, 1966

“None of the Beatles was on hand for Stevie’s show at the Cavern, but Paul McCartney came to a show we did in London. After the final set, Stevie, Paul, Clarence [Paul, Stevie’s producer] and I sat around acting like a proverbial mutual admiration society - Paul going on and on about how the Beatles loved rhythm and blues and how they all admired Stevie’s music and the Motown sound; the rest of us quizzing him about the “Fab Four”. it was the only time in all my years of working alongside the greatest singers and musicians in the world that I ever asked for an autograph, which earned me major points with my sisters Joan and Diane.”

Ted Hull (Stevie’s tutor), The Wonder Years: my life and times with Stevie Wonder, 2000

Braille message for Stevie (“We love you baby”) on the cover of Wings’ 1973 album Red Rose Speedway.

On the first night of recording, who should turn up at the studio door but Paul and Linda. It was the first time since the Beatles had broken up that John and Paul had been in the same room…They play. With Paul on drums, in the absence of Ringo and Keith Moon that night, and John picking up his guitar, soon to be joined by Stevie Wonder, they went into a jam of ‘Midnight Special’.

Ray Connolly, Being John Lennon A Restless Life

“I’ve always been an admirer from the early days when we first heard him as ‘Little’ Stevie Wonder with ‘Fingertips’. Then I met him on and off [for a few years] and went to his shows. Eventually, I asked him if we could record together ‘Ebony and Ivory’. I spent some time with him in Montserrat to make that record... He’s such a musical monster. You sit down with him at the piano immediately he’s off. I know some of his old stories so I can joke with him and take the mickey. He was originally ‘Steveland Morris’ and he was in a little blind school in Detroit. He was just one of the blind kids who happened to be musically gifted. He went to Motown to make ‘Fingertips’ and then he was famous. He came back as ‘Little Stevie Wonder’. So he once told me all the blind kids in the school used to call him [adopts mocking tone] ‘Wundurr’. They didn’t like him and were jealous of him. So now when I see him and if we pass in the corridor I say ‘Wundurr’ and he immediately knows it’s Paul.”

Paul McCartney, GQ Magazine, November 2012

Stevie and Paul in Montserrat, working on Tug of War, 1981.

“But, you know, he’s such a fantastic person to work with that you just go along with it. He’s worth it! He may not always show up when he says he will. Maybe he has got to finish this other album he’s doing, whatever. You just have to make a lot of allowances. He’s such a great musician. It’s all fine, in the end. When he eventually got there and started working, it was perfect. I thought, ‘Oh God, everything he does is perfect.’ I’m talking about even handclaps here… you know, just handclaps. I remember being just a little bit out on the handclaps. We were round a mic clapping, and he just went, ‘Hey Paul, stop! Hey man, you’re not in the pocket!’ And I’m going, ‘Okay, alright, I’m not in the pocket! Let’s get it in the pocket.’ On the Beatles records we weren’t that precise with handclaps! ‘In the pocket’ means being exactly on the beat. So Stevie is saying, ‘You’re not in the pocket, man!’ and I’m going, ‘Oh shit! Okay, let’s get it right!’ So we just worked at it until we got it. He’s very much the perfectionist.”

Paul McCartney, Tug of War Archive Collection, 2015

“Stevie came along to the studio in LA and he listened to the track for about ten minutes and he totally got it. He just went to the mic and within 20 minutes had nailed this dynamite solo. When you listen you just think, ‘How do you come up with that?’ But it’s just because he is a genius, that’s why.”

Paul on recording Only Our Hearts with Stevie in 2011.

Paul and Stevie during mixing for Kisses on the Bottom, 15 November 2011 source

eight word horror story