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| Album cover of Wild Life, by Wings, 1971. |
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| Paul and Linda McCartney, 1971. |
When the Beatles split up in 1970, expectations for Paul
McCartney’s solo career were sky-high. But Paul and John Lennon both issued minimalist
albums for their proper solo debuts: McCartney,
and John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band. It
was left to George Harrison to issue the solo album that most fit the mood of
the times: the epic, sprawling, triple-disc All
Things Must Pass.
Rock critics probably expected McCartney to make a solo
album that was a major statement. What they got instead was the lo-fi weirdness
of McCartney, Ram, and Wild Life. McCartney had been a homemade
affair, with all the instruments played by Paul. Ram, credited to Paul and his wife Linda, featured a full band and
a slightly more polished sound. McCartney’s third solo album, Wild Life, was released in December of
1971, less than seven months after Ram, and
was credited to his new band, Wings.
Wait, Paul McCartney was starting a band? After he was just
in the Beatles, the greatest band of all-time? Okay, weird. Who was in this new
band? A group of rock superstars? Nope, guitarist Denny Laine, and Denny
Seiwall on drums. Oh, and Paul’s wife Linda on keyboards and backing vocals.
He’s starting a band with his wife? Well, John Lennon was doing the same thing.
As I’ve said before, it took guts/stupidity to start a band with a spouse who’s
not a professional musician, and Paul and Linda suffered the slings and arrows
of the rock critics.
It’s clear from interviews that it was important to
McCartney’s identity to be in a band, rather than just be Paul McCartney, solo
artist. Of course, to some degree Wings would inevitably always be “Paul
McCartney’s backing band,” but I suspect that being in a band lessened the
psychological pressure on McCartney to live up to the huge expectations of
making music after the Beatles.
Wild Life and Red Rose Speedway were both reissued in
December of 2018 as part of the ongoing Paul
McCartney Archive Collection series. I’ll be reviewing the two-disc version
of Wild Life.
Wild Life was a
pretty inauspicious debut for Wings, and in my opinion it’s a much weaker album
than the superb Ram. Part of the
charm of Ram is that even the
tossed-off songs, like “Monkberry Moon Delight,” are still awesome, whereas on Wild Life the tossed-off songs just
sound, well, tossed-off. Wild Life is
a pretty slight album, starting off with the jam “Mumbo” and the repetitive
“Bip Bop.” Then we get a cover of “Love is Strange.” While Paul has issued
cover albums, it’s extremely rare for him to feature covers in the middle of an
album of original material. Like the rest of the album, “Love is Strange” is
loose and jammy.
My two favorite songs on Wild
Life are “Tomorrow” and “Dear Friend,” on side two of the album. “Tomorrow”
is a very simple song, but it’s catchy as hell, and would be my pick for a
single, had one been issued to support Wild
Life. (Some copies of “Love is Strange” were issued as a promo single, but
the single was never actually released.) “Tomorrow” is a great example of Paul
McCartney’s melodic genius, how he can take clichéd lyrics and still turn them
into a catchy pop ditty, seemingly at a moment’s notice.
“Dear Friend” is a stark, haunting piano ballad. Most
critics interpreted it at the time as being a response to John Lennon’s
venomous song about Paul, “How Do You Sleep?” issued on his Imagine album in September of 1971.
However, “Dear Friend” was actually recorded during the Ram sessions, before “How Do You Sleep?” was released. “Dear
Friend” has just two verses, and no real chorus or bridge, and it clocks in
just shy of six minutes. It’s another example of a song being simple, but still
very effective, and quite emotional. “Dear Friend” also features superb vocals
from Paul.
The second disc of Wild
Life collects a bunch of previously unreleased home recordings, as well as
assorted and sundry rarities. For me, the most interesting home recordings were
the two versions of “Dear Friend.” Also of interest is Wings’ 1972 single “Give
Ireland Back to the Irish,” which was never issued on an album at the time. The
song is McCartney’s response to the events of Bloody Sunday, when British
soldiers killed 13 protestors during a march. The song is a rare example of a
direct political statement from McCartney. The song was duly banned by the BBC.
You can compare and contrast “Give Ireland Back to the Irish” with John
Lennon’s own song about Bloody Sunday, “The Luck of the Irish,” which appeared
on his 1972 album Some Time in New York
City. (Be warned: Yoko sings on it.)
In my next review, I’ll examine Paul McCartney’s next album,
1973’s Red Rose Speedway.
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