Paul McCartney

I always find it interesting when song lyrics are presented as written poems. It is a useful transition to witness. Many songs – rock, pop, blues, folk ballads – have clear antecedents in written poetry even if they go beyond that. Indeed, the written phase of poetry can be seen as an interlude between modern songs and the ancient lyrics of, say, Homer or Sappho. Adrian Mitchell, in his introduction, rightly places song lyrics alongside the melodies of William Blake's 'Tyger, Tyger' or show more Robert Burns' 'A Red, Red Rose' (pg. xviii). Much of what is now only written down was once sung.

Putting Paul McCartney into this debate is an interesting experiment, and one that largely works. As one-half of the greatest songwriting partnership of the 20th century, his lyrics are as worthy of any as an example of the familial link between poetry and song. 'Blackbird', 'Mull of Kintyre', 'Here Today', 'Hey Jude', 'Yesterday' and 'Eleanor Rigby' all still shine on the page, whilst 'Junk' and 'The Long and Winding Road' in particular are lesser songs that benefit from the transition.

Where Blackbird Singing falters is in its actual poems, as opposed to songs-as-poems. This is not what McCartney is famous for, and rightly so. Some are decent, and none are embarrassing, but they remain unmemorable. McCartney's gift has always been his melody, and it is this what still shines through in his lyrics on the page. But when trying to write more conventional poetry he seems to become a bit more self-conscious, trying hard rather than letting it flow as he might when composing songs. Consequently, these conventional poems often seem to be trying to be obfuscatory and deliberate rather than allowing for the natural talent that leaps from his songs. show less

It doesn't take much for me to relapse into one of my occasional bouts of obsessive Beatlemania. The latest one, which has caused me to finally pick up Paul McCartney's definitive collection of his lyrics, was triggered by seeing the man himself live in concert a few weeks ago, finally fulfilling a lifelong goal. What The Lyrics: 1956 to the Present shows is something that also became apparent when witnessing Paul play live: he has shouldered the unprecedented burden of being a Beatle with show more dignity, and throughout the years has remained a good and open man at heart.

This essential goodness, it is true, makes him rather limited as an autobiographer. Paul is kind and optimistic, meaning there's none of the unfortunate (though juicy) muck-raking or score-settling that usually adds colour to rock autobiographies. He's endearingly upbeat, willing to embrace some of his sillier moments without apology. He's diplomatic, able to see things from others' perspectives, so anecdotes of band infighting are delivered with the caveat of the enjoyable memories they still made together. (Even his attempts at revisionism of aspects of the Beatles story are mild, gently suggesting an alternative view rather than arguing for one.) Paul's also able to take the sting out of any approaching controversy, and present his life story on his own terms, so much so that many readers won't even notice the complete absence of Heather Mills, his second wife, from mention in the book - even from a list of women who have shaped his life. (Good riddance, to be sure, but it also means this is an incomplete picture.)

In one sense, that's completely fine – there's already enough Philip Normans out there willing to dig through the bins and present that as the 'real' story. An autobiography – for Paul has said The Lyrics is the closest he'll ever get to an autobiography – that reflects the moderation and fundamental decency of its author is all well and good. It's also the case that much of this story has already been told: there are few surprises in these pages for dedicated Beatles fans, and even some of Paul's anecdotes are repeated – like how John Lennon was really a softie who would let down his glasses and say "it's only me" during arguments.

What we have, then, is not so much an autobiography – or even a lyric book – but a golden opportunity to spend some time with a man who has lived one of the most well-lived lives of the 20th century (and, happily, well into the 21st). Collated from a series of conversations Paul had with ghostwriter Paul Muldoon between 2015 and 2020 (with seven extra songs added for this paperback edition), the book is alphabetical rather than chronological, but most importantly it is conversational. We are left with, well, The Lyrics of some of the most remarkable songs of the 20th century in the company of the man who wrote (or sometimes co-wrote) them.

Fans already know the story of 'Yesterday', but to hear it told once more, for posterity, from the man himself feels historic. To hear Paul McCartney speak casually of the conception of Sgt. Pepper, of meeting John Lennon, of Revolver and Beatlemania and 'Hey Jude', is disconcertingly mundane, and only makes those creative achievements – and so many more – seem all the more remarkable. One of the most fascinating things about McCartney, particularly but not solely in the Beatles era, was how essential many of the tracks immediately felt to the culture. His solo song 'Maybe I'm Amazed' seems so right and simple, so effortless, that anyone could have done it – and yet only one man did, or could.

The reader doesn't finish The Lyrics with a different, or even a deeper, understanding of Paul McCartney or his life – at least, assuming their pre-existing view was a positive one. What they will have is their existing view reinforced: some of those incredible songs were indeed created simply, sometimes even idly, by young men who found themselves together at a moment where everything complemented everything else perfectly, and they made the most of that moment. As much as I would have liked a more conventional autobiography, with more of a raconteur angle that unpacked stories with greater depth than is allowed in The Lyrics' brief two- or three-page snippets per song, I can't blame Paul for taking the only approach he could to try to make sense of it all. The songs themselves. They are the evidence that it wasn't just an impossible dream. show less

I adore this book. I'm not the world's biggest Paul fan — I've always been more partial to John, despite his destructive ways — but like nearly any person born in the last half of the 20th century, the Beatles (and to a far lesser extent, Paul's post-Beatles work) have formed a big part of the soundtrack to my life, and this book brings that background to the foreground in the most pleasant, and often enlightening, way. Far more than a collection of lyrics, this is the closest to a show more memoir McCartney is ever likely to give us, and it's a well done job. Each of the hundreds of songs here comes with a story: sometimes a couple of paragraphs and sometimes several pages. Naturally many of them tell the story of the song: how it came to be, where Paul was at (physically and mentally) at the time, why he made the musical choices he did. But there's a surprising amount of material, often very candid, about Paul's own life and, frankly, what it's like being Paul. I found most of this interesting and some of it moving. McCartney is a famously amiable man, but he's not without his depths and surprises. If you've ever hummed a Beatles song to yourself, I suspect you'd enjoy dipping into this. show less

The kiddos are having a bit of a rough day. Why? Well, it's blustery and gloomy outside, so they're all stuck inside...or so they think. Enter stage right...their effervescent Grandude, and boy does he ever have an adventure for them! All he needs is a postcard or two, his "magic" compass, a few fun rhyming magical words, and ZING, BANG, SIZZLE...things get QUITE a bit more interesting. From lazy days at the shore to outrunning a heard of wild buffalo, traipsing snow capped peaks to hitching show more a ride on a flying cow, Grandude shows this intrepid bunch that ANYTHING can happen with a bit of imagination.

This was such a fun read! You can't help but get caught up in the magic and mayhem of it all as adventure after adventure proves at first exciting, then a little trying, and finally exhausting as they make their way home once again. Grandude reminds us that we're never caught inside on a rainy day unless we truly wish to be, while also showing just how much wisdom our elders are keeping beneath their proverbial hats just waiting to be discovered curious loved ones who care to know.


**copy received for review; opinions are my own show less