I don’t know if Paul McCartney blew his mind out in a car in 1966, but it’s clear to me that by 1969-70, he’d gotten pretty rich and tired — or maybe just lazy. His noble savage/country farmer persona — only hinted at during the Get Back sessions — probably reached its most fervent, greasy-haired expression in the music (and photos) that fill his first solo album, entitled simply McCartney.
Who knows why Paul decided to retreat to his farm/lighthouse/sheep station/rock studio and record this half-baked collection of unfinished demos? But he did — and, for my money, it’s a sad preview of the dozens (hundreds?) of half-assed songs he’s foisted on the world since then, just because he can.
As usual, there’s at least one jaw-dropper on the album (in this case, “Maybe I’m Amazed”) — the song that makes you want to sock the guy in the nose for betraying his talent on the rest of the record. But the rest of it is just stupid. I mean, really: is this LP any better than a bootleg collection of home demos — clearly never meant to get “finished” — would be?
Reading current reviews of this record, I’m sensing that the rock and roll revisionists are circling around this disc, telling us that it’s a hidden “rough gem” in McCartney’s otherwise polished catalog. Bullshit! The album sucks eggs.
Don’t you agree?