Paul McCartney: McCartney III

There are Paul McCartney albums, and then there are self-titled Paul McCartney albums. The latter are his DIY projects. On these releases, Paul writes the music, sings the songs, plays every instrument, and handles production chores. Until now, there were only two: 1970’s McCartney, which was Paul’s first solo release, and 1980’s McCartney II. Now, 40 years later, they are joined by McCartney III.  

Recently, it’s become fashionable for critics to look back on the first two McCartney releases, which originally received mixed reviews, with a forgiving eye. The albums, these critics say, weren’t sloppy; they were a refreshing break from the perfectionism of the Beatles. They weren’t self-indulgent; they were boldly personal. Hogwash. McCartney and McCartney II were half-finished, poorly performed, lazily produced, self-important affairs. Time hasn’t changed that.  

Indeed, listening to the first McCartney today is every bit as unsatisfying as it was 50 years ago. This isn’t an album of songs, it’s a collection of musical doodles. Tracks start promisingly, then simply trail off. Or they’re instrumentals that don’t go anywhere. Or there are just a few lyrics, repeated over and over. Or there are plenty of lyrics, but they’re nonsense. The playing is merely adequate, save for the drumming, which is embarrassingly amateurish. The exception to all these failings, of course, is “Maybe I’m Amazed,” a song that hit it so far out of the park it single-handedly rescued the album and catapulted Paul’s solo career.

Ten years later came McCartney II. After the success but ultimate dissolution of his band Wings, Sir Paul was feeling experimental. So instead of doodles, we get dabbles in genres ranging from blues to New Wave to big band jazz. Yet, except for “Blue Sway,” which benefits mightily from Richard Niles’ orchestration, these forays feel unconvincing. More successful are the opening pop hit, “Coming Up,” and the catchy second track, “Temporary Secretary,” which features a synth backdrop straight out of Kraftwerk. After that, the album goes downhill precipitously. 

Understandably, then, I greeted McCartney III with trepidation. My worst fears seemed realized with the very first track, “Long Tailed Winter Bird.” The instrumental is dominated by a repeated acoustic guitar riff that Sir Paul seems to find absolutely fascinating. It’s mildly appealing the first couple of times, significantly less so by the 25th.

But the second track caught my attention in a far more positive way. By the sixth track, the album had won me over completely—and it never let go. Unlike its predecessors, McCartney III is a batch of real songs—fully realized, proficiently played, and confidently produced. Furthermore, they’re uniformly pleasing songs, encompassing a wide variety of styles, moods, and subjects. In that respect, the album carries echoes of the Beatles’ White Album.

Indeed, in terms of both style and quality, quite a few of the songs on McCartney III would fit comfortably on that Beatles disc. For instance, “Slidin’” gives The White Album’s “Helter Skelter” a run for the money in terms of hard-rock heaviness. Similarly, “The Kiss of Venus” resembles “Blackbird” in its acoustic setting and earnest, unvarnished delivery. The jaunty “Lavatory Lil” (“You think she’s being friendly/But she’s looking for a Bentley”) recalls “Rocky Racoon” in its ability to conjure a compelling character. 

Yet McCartney III also contains songs that have no parallel in Sir Paul’s past work. Further, several exhibit a new level of compositional maturity. One track that exhibits both of these traits is “Deep Deep Feeling” which, despite its eight-and-a-half-minute length, I can’t get enough of. The song has a structure and vibe unique in McCartney’s work. 

McCartney’s lyrics, too, are more mature and philosophical than they’ve ever been. No silly love songs, here! McCartney III’s lyrics are well-crafted, thoughtful, witty at times, and emotionally resonant. For example, on “Women and Wives,” McCartney considers the effect our present choices will have on future generations: “Hear me women and wives/Hear me husbands and lovers/What we do with our lives/Seems to matter to others.” 

Aside from craft and maturity, the other big change on McCartney III is Paul’s vocals, which has lost some—though nowhere near all—of its power. On many of these songs it’s a nonissue; you can’t even tell McCartney has aged. But on others the scars of time are apparent. The voice is craggier, the falsetto shakier. McCartney faces this exigency the same way Dylan does: straight on and unapologetically. Importantly, his delivery never harms the material. 

The recording isn’t bad, either, though it could do with less compression. The squeezed dynamics impact the punch factor on songs with fuller production, even at 24/96. However, the purely acoustic numbers—and there are several—have beautiful tone and clarity. These tracks are demo worthy. 

In sum, McCartney III is not only the best self-titled McCartney album by far, it, along with 2013’s New, is among his best late-career albums. Few musicians have the pop/rock instincts, the knack for melody, and the performance chops of Paul McCartney. When he’s on his game, his output is a sheer delight. On McCartney III, he is definitely on his game.