Album Reviews

Forty years have come and gone since the release of the second entry within the self-produced McCartney series. One may wonder why a wait equivalent to a fourteenth century human lifespan was necessary. Or… one could let the feeling of gratitude wash over as at age seventy-eight, Paul McCartney continues to grace our lives with his music. Being my age, I lucked out in only living sixteen years in this world where the McCartney albums existed as a duology, or so I thought.

Upon discovering that McCartney III was to be released on December 11th (later delayed to the 18th), I was nothing short of ecstatic. With forty years in the making, this album will surely be some of, if not, McCartney’s finest work, right? Well, yes and no. I was correct in assuming that tracks on the album were written over a larger course of time. In fact, in a certain case roughly three decades ago. I was gravely mistaken in convincing myself that this would be his best work. As said by the man himself, McCartney III is a collection of until recently unfinished music, and it shows.

The album commences with “Long Tailed Winter Bird,” an acoustic driven folk tune devised to “warm up” the listener for what’s to come. It initially succeeds in doing so, but soon finds itself recycling over a grueling five minute span the same riff. That’s not to say five minutes is too much for a song, oh heavens no. It is however too much time allotted to one single riff. Subtle references to past accomplishments seem desperate, specifically the sporadic recorders tying back to The Beatles’ “Fool On The Hill.” What could have potentially been a zestful beginning has now shot itself in the foot, and we’re led into the second track, “Find My Way.” As I write these very words, I still wonder what it was that McCartney was hyping up in the first track. “Find My Way” appears to be nothing more than mediocre lyrics, overused chords, and predictable progressions. I can’t find enjoyment in hearing a Beatle, underneath downright weak lines, alternate between F and C major chords and I doubt you’ll be able to either.

Moving on we have “Pretty Boys,” a heartfelt piece that seems to reflect on McCartney’s past. When McCartney labels the pretty boys as “objects of desire,” following that with a guideline like “you can look, but you’d better not touch,” I can’t help but imagine this song was written with Beatlemania in mind.

Though it carries a wholesome message, “Women and Wives” is in nearly every aspect predictable. McCartney clearly wrote this to act as a guide for those living blissfully unaware of their effect on others. Despite that, I cannot get past this awkward and borderline embarrassing inclusion.

“Lavatory Lil” is a silly rocker that, while rather unoriginal, with its playfully old-school nature manages to provide a glimmer of hope for the remaining songs. “Slidin’,” McCartney’s exploration into more grungy territory, proves itself worthy of being featured on an Electronics Arts NHL title, but doesn’t even approach the bar set by McCartney in the past.

Opening the second side, we have the centerpiece of McCartney III, “Deep Deep Feeling.” Similar to McCartney III’s very first track, this is a well-crafted piece completely sabotaged by its running length. McCartney makes a valiant effort with this track as he explores the highs and lows brought upon us by our emotions. It’s a shame this nine-minute emotional slump couldn’t have been kept to a tame four or five minutes.

“The Kiss of Venus” may be my favorite selection off the album. It definitely places Paul’s aging voice at center stage, requiring the elderly rock legend to sing in a register that even I can’t touch. It should also be noted that this flows lyrically more than anything else on the album, though don’t let that wonderful feeling carry on for too long. “Seize The Day” comes from a wise place in McCartney’s mind but still fails to depart from the awkward theme this album carries. “Deep Down” escapes that theme yet fails to establish its own. I’m clueless in trying to find real deep meaning here. It’s unfortunately a bore.

“Winter Bird/When Winter Comes” closes the back and forth battle between quality and inadequacy that is McCartney III. The already overused riff present on the opening track returns here, albeit briefly before we’re led into the album’s only McCartney-esque track. Being recorded in 1992 with the late George Martin, McCartney’s voice shows no signs of age here. Though he sings of farm-keeping in a manner that seems to have no metaphorical value, a pleasant ditty is welcome in my heart.

Being from a time where vinyl acted as the main format for music, I’m not shocked to find that McCartney ensured a vinyl release for his fans. With this being pressed at Optimal Media in Germany, the vinyl pathway is one of great pleasantries. I expected this release to meet the advertised 180 gram claim, but I never figured it would make it up to 202 grams. Through its heft you can feel confident that the possibility of warpage is diminished, and worry not about wow and flutter as the spindle hole is perfectly centered. Not even an inaudible mark can be seen on either side. Bravo, Optimal Media, you’ve outdone yourselves once again.

The choice to release McCartney III as a gatefold was very correct. It’s a real treat to examine the photos found on the inner parts of the gatefold, all taken by the McCartney family. Only the paper inner sleeve left me dissatisfied. Don’t be fooled, the printing of lyrics and credits on paper inner sleeves does not change the fact that paper will realistically leave dozens of surface scratches.

I don’t believe that Paul’s lost his touch as he’s grown older, not even for a minute. Egypt Station, the 2018 concept album that came before McCartney III, was very enjoyable to me. It’s that which has convinced me that this album is but a blip in McCartney’s catalogue. Throughout roughly sixty years this man has given the world some of the finest music. At minimum we’ve all got one McCartney tune we cherish. I then find it rather ironic, that with an album titled after the artist’s name, he fails to sound like himself.

(Nathan Zeller is a music-adoring Beatles fanatic from the chilling lands of Western Canada. Born with a piano teacher for a father, and a teacher at a music-oriented elementary school for a mother, you could say he didn’t choose this life, rather it chose him. Currently he’s found himself consumed by schoolwork… not fun. Follow Nathan on Instagram @nathanmzeller)