My late discovery of Paul McCartney

My Paul McCartney breakthrough finally broke in 2015. I finally turned the corner and learned to love Sir Paul's solo work.

Among the Beatles, McCartney was the mood I had the most trouble accepting. George Harrison had long been my favorite, with highlights stretching from the impeccable All Things Must Pass to the very-1980s but likable Cloud Nine. John Lennon had his moments, even if his brash politics sometimes became off-putting. Ringo …. Well, we all love Ringo at some point, even if It Don’t Come Easy is the lone transcendent moment.

Aside from a vinyl copy of Ram plucked from a Bozeman record bin, I had little McCartney in my collection. The reasons are myriad, but ultimately it comes down to the sheer volume of his music since the Beatles split, and overpaying for Borders' copy of the weak late Seventies Wings’ record Back to the Egg (pre-mp3, I wanted my own copy of Wonderful Christmastime and it was only available as a bonus track). Even my McCartney-loving friends told me I started at the absolute worst spot. Six months later, I couldn’t remember why I wanted Wonderful Christmastime on record, couldn’t remember any tracks that hooked me, then traded away Back to the Egg.

For another decade, I ignored his work. The only exception came in 2008, when I heard a few tracks from Electric Arguments, McCartney’s collaboration with producer Youth as The Fireman. It’s fresh and spontaneous (across 12 months, they record each song in a day), with many genres spliced into the mix. But it did not encourage a deeper dive into McCartney.

What caused my conversion? An all-time worst performance of Maybe I'm Amazed at the Saturday Night Live 40th Anniversary Special hardly seems like the catalyst for a deep dive into Paul McCartney's music. In fact, it might drive people away.

Fortunately, the triggering event was Boyhood, and the scene in which Ethan Hawke's character gave his song the Black Album, a compilation of post-Beatles solo tracks sequenced as a Beatles album. Hawke’s character argues that sometimes you need the other Beatles to balance out the solo work of the rest.

Truth rings in that argument – aside from All Things Must Pass and Plastic Ono Band, most post-Beatles solo records don’t have the same punch. Many become cases of diminishing returns between their key tracks. Had anyone told me that Double Fantasy alternated between John Lennon and Yoko Ono tracks, I would have never even contemplated buying that record. After one incomplete listen, it’s been moved to the “sell” box.

But Paul McCartney was a blank spot for me. As the former Beatle with the deepest discography, he had been a target of derision for some. I intended to find out, once and for all, whether I could become a Paul person.

One thing I learned quickly – never trust any critic when it comes to McCartney records. They come at his albums from two views – wearing rose-colored glasses or acting like McCartney personally gouged their eyes out. Seriously, McCartney’s solo work that followed the Beatles’ breakup got torn to shreds. Look at Ram --- even Ringo had nothing good to say about it. Some of those reviews felt like revenge for the Beatles' breakup.

The remedy to long ignoring solo McCartney came in a binge of used records (McCartney and McCartney II), library rentals (Wingspan) and burned CDs from a friend (thanks, Mr. Crites). What stood out? I knew a number of songs from cultural osmosis and FM radio (Band on the Run, Maybe I’m Amazed, Live and Let Die).

New tunes grabbed me immediately - Jet finds McCartney at his most rocking, while Mull of Kintyre ferries the listener away to the Scottish peninsula where McCartney has owned a farm for almost 50 years. Sometimes I just hit repeat on Another Day, his inaugural solo single, where already represents McCartney moving away from the world’s biggest rock band. I can even dig Bluebird, which a slice of 1970s easy-listening. Sir Paul can write a pop song like nobody's business.

After sifting through many decades, I realized I prefer his 1970s solo records . Don’t take that as disrespect of Wings. I get Wings. I enjoy Wings. McCartney went from the biggest band of the 1960s to one of the biggest of the 1970s

Tailor-made for arenas and stadiums, Wings excels in those environs. Wings was Sir Paul's band but they came off as a tight-knit outfit, a true band. It’s a different creature than the Beatles, but it shows McCartney’s progress and growth as a songwriter – even someone at his level can elevate his/her game. The music is mostly unimpeachable. As long as I have Wings Over America (an essential 3-LP live set) and Wingspan, an excellent compilation, I have no gripes.

Yet other parts of his catalogue hit me harder. Albums like Ram, McCartney and McCartney II have a rawness I find immensely appealing. Some criticize the songs as mere sketches, but some songs just work best that way. A soft little number like Junk feels as if McCartney sits across the room, strumming his guitar and teasing out lyrics as he goes.

No record has grown in stature quite like Ram. I've owned it for almost five years and usually broke it out once a year. Now it listen to it weekly. A few tracks get skipped, but Ram On and Dear Boy are among his greatest, at least to my ears. Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey feels like a miniature version of the Abbey Road medley, a collection of fragments somehow sewn into a rich tapestry. Sure, some of Sir Paul's goofy idiosyncrasies pop in, but they never wound the song. It illustrates of the best of McCartney’s many personas in four short minutes.

These records reveal Sir Paul as a homebody. He is gifted enough to play all the instruments on this records. We don't often get home recordings from people of his stature. Bob Dylan likened that type of music to having your phone conversations recorded. He's right - an intimacy emerges, like we're hearing something never intended for an audience. Sir Paul has written any number of songs like Waterfalls and One of These Days. Those two songs have a vulnerability more front and center than more dressed-up songs.

 Recently an Internet clip showed of McCartney launching into Temporary Secretary at a London show. As the song’s synthesizer melody began, the crowd roared. It was the first time Sir Paul ever played the song live. After nearly 40 years of polarizing fans and enraging critics, maybe Secretary had finally become timely. After my 2015 McCartney overload has, much of his catalog has become timely and essential.

For me,  McCartney's music is less about learning to love its entirety than finding the niche that best suits personal tastes. So long as I have those rawer long-players to spin, Sir Paul will be a regular on the turntable.