Fab_ An Intimate Life Of Paul McCartney Part 10

Working with the Beatles at EMI, where the band had been cosseted and indulged to a rare degree, Paul was used to having everything and everybody at his disposal when he wanted to record. He didn't seem to understand that the new people he was working with in America might have other things to do as well. When Dave Spinoza excused himself once or twice to fulfil other commitments, Paul was not pleased, and replaced Spinoza with guitarist Hugh McCracken. McCartney, McCracken and Seiwell worked together until 20 November, by which date Paul had the bulk of Ram Ram, plus an additional catchy love song, 'Another Day', which would be his first post-Beatles single.

The McCartneys then returned to Scotland where, as 1970 drew to a close, Paul put his mind to resolving his relationship with the Beatles, telling a reporter: I think the other three are the most honest, sincere men I have ever met. I love them, I really do. I don't mind being bound to them as a friend - I like that idea. I don't mind being bound to them musically, because I like the others as musical partners. I like being in their band. But for my own sanity we must change the business arrangements we have. Only by being completely free of each other financially will we ever have any chance of coming back together as friends ...

John Eastman came to Kintyre to discuss the options. The brothers-in-law went for a walk, climbing a hill near the farm, at the top of which Paul reached a momentous decision. 'We were standing on this big hill which overlooked a loch - it was quite a nice day, a bit chilly - and we'd been searching our souls. Was there any other way? And we eventually said, "Oh, we've got to do it."' They would go to court to ask a judge to dissolve the Beatles partnership and appoint a receiver to run Apple until a new manager could be agreed. Allen Klein would oppose this, and John, George and Ritchie would line up behind Klein. So Paul would have to sue his band mates.

At the time it looked to many people as if Paul was acting selfishly, motivated by pique. Paul had never liked Klein. He was bitter about Let It Be Let It Be and the way the release of and the way the release of McCartney McCartney had been handled. His character was such that he would never tolerate being told when he could release his records. So in order to win his creative and financial freedom he took his friends to court. In years to come he would argue that the court case was in fact to the ultimate benefit of all four Beatles; by going to court he rescued the band from Allen Klein. 'I single-handedly saved the Beatles empire! Ha! Ha! He said modestly. I can laugh about it now; it was not so funny at the time,' McCartney told Barry Miles for his authorised biography, going so far as to comment in had been handled. His character was such that he would never tolerate being told when he could release his records. So in order to win his creative and financial freedom he took his friends to court. In years to come he would argue that the court case was in fact to the ultimate benefit of all four Beatles; by going to court he rescued the band from Allen Klein. 'I single-handedly saved the Beatles empire! Ha! Ha! He said modestly. I can laugh about it now; it was not so funny at the time,' McCartney told Barry Miles for his authorised biography, going so far as to comment in Rolling Stone Rolling Stone, in 2007, that the court case was the 'worst moment of my life'. This was surely an exaggeration, bearing in mind the traumatic loss of his mother, and his calamitous second marriage, but the court case was, nevertheless, 'a horrific thing to go through'.

John, George and Ritchie received letters from Paul's lawyers informing them that they were being sued by the guy they'd worked with like brothers for years, by their own Macca. It came as a profound shock. 'I just couldn't believe it,' said Ritchie.

The writ was issued on the last day of 1970 in the Chancery Division of the High Court at the Royal Courts of Justice in London, a fantastical Victorian-Gothic building on the Strand. In a preliminary court hearing, McCartney's barrister, David Hirst QC,39 informed the judge, Mr Justice Stamp, that the Beatles' finances were in a mess. With the group earning vast sums by the standards of the day, between four and five million pounds sterling in 1970, the Beatles now faced an income tax bill of 678,000 ($1.03m) plus surtax and corporation tax. 'The latest accounts suggest there is probably not enough in the kitty to meet even the individual Beatles' income and surtax liability,' Hirst warned His Lordship. Moreover, the company books were in a lamentable state - McCartney had never been given audited accounts - and Allen Klein was 'a man of bad commercial reputation'. The matter was adjourned, with Klein issuing a statement that the Beatles' accounts were not in bad shape, and there informed the judge, Mr Justice Stamp, that the Beatles' finances were in a mess. With the group earning vast sums by the standards of the day, between four and five million pounds sterling in 1970, the Beatles now faced an income tax bill of 678,000 ($1.03m) plus surtax and corporation tax. 'The latest accounts suggest there is probably not enough in the kitty to meet even the individual Beatles' income and surtax liability,' Hirst warned His Lordship. Moreover, the company books were in a lamentable state - McCartney had never been given audited accounts - and Allen Klein was 'a man of bad commercial reputation'. The matter was adjourned, with Klein issuing a statement that the Beatles' accounts were not in bad shape, and there was was enough money to pay the taxman. enough money to pay the taxman.

Paul was in Scotland when the initial legal skirmish took place, his attention diverted by the latest issue of Rolling Stone Rolling Stone which carried the first sensational instalment of a two-part interview with John Lennon conducted by the magazine's Editor, Jann Wenner. Under the influence of the new Primal Scream therapy, pioneered by American psychologist Arthur Janov, which encouraged one to let it all hang out, Lennon had given Wenner the unexpurgated scoop on the Beatles. McCartney read with horrified fascination how he'd taken over the leadership of the Beatles after Brian Epstein died, only to lead the band 'round in circles' while John, George and Ringo had been made to feel like his sidemen. McCartney 'thought he was the f.u.c.kin' Beatles, and he never f.u.c.king was ... none of us were the Beatles, four of us were,' John growled. Lennon complained about which carried the first sensational instalment of a two-part interview with John Lennon conducted by the magazine's Editor, Jann Wenner. Under the influence of the new Primal Scream therapy, pioneered by American psychologist Arthur Janov, which encouraged one to let it all hang out, Lennon had given Wenner the unexpurgated scoop on the Beatles. McCartney read with horrified fascination how he'd taken over the leadership of the Beatles after Brian Epstein died, only to lead the band 'round in circles' while John, George and Ringo had been made to feel like his sidemen. McCartney 'thought he was the f.u.c.kin' Beatles, and he never f.u.c.king was ... none of us were the Beatles, four of us were,' John growled. Lennon complained about Let It Be Let It Be. 'When Paul was feeling kindly he would give me a solo,' he said of his guitar part on 'Get Back', while he a.s.serted that the movie was edited to Paul's advantage, with scenes involving him and Yoko cut 'for no other reason than the people were orientated towards Engelbert Humperdinck ...' It was this comparison, to the middle-of-the-road balladeer of 'Release Me', that cut McCartney most deeply; that and John's a.s.sessment of his first solo alb.u.m: 'I thought Paul's was rubbish,' opined Lennon, saying that he (like most people) preferred George's All Things Must Pa.s.s All Things Must Pa.s.s. McCartney studied the article with the morbid fascination of a jilted lover receiving a kiss-off letter. 'I sat down and pored over every little paragraph, every sentence. "Does he really think that of me?"' Paul said a couple of years later in 1974. 'And at the time I thought, "It's me ...That's just what I'm like. He's captured me so well; I'm a t.u.r.d ..." [Then] Linda said, "Now, you know that's not true ..."'

Paul came down to London to attend the opening of his court case on 19 February, the first part being an application to appoint a receiver to manage the Beatles' affairs. Heavily bearded and wearing the same suit he'd worn for the Abbey Road Abbey Road cover, Paul was accompanied by a protective Linda, who clutched his arm as they entered Court 16 of the Royal Courts of Justice. Inside McCartney's QC listed reasons - including tax offences in the USA - why Klein was not a man to be trusted, and told the judge Paul had never agreed that Klein should represent him. In reply Klein said he was appealing against convictions of having failed to file tax returns, and McCartney hadn't complained about the enhanced royalties he'd negotiated for the band. The Beatles' income had increased to 4.3 million a year during his tenure ($6.5m). Now McCartney was trying to extricate himself from the partnership so that he could benefit from his solo career. cover, Paul was accompanied by a protective Linda, who clutched his arm as they entered Court 16 of the Royal Courts of Justice. Inside McCartney's QC listed reasons - including tax offences in the USA - why Klein was not a man to be trusted, and told the judge Paul had never agreed that Klein should represent him. In reply Klein said he was appealing against convictions of having failed to file tax returns, and McCartney hadn't complained about the enhanced royalties he'd negotiated for the band. The Beatles' income had increased to 4.3 million a year during his tenure ($6.5m). Now McCartney was trying to extricate himself from the partnership so that he could benefit from his solo career.

The court heard from Lennon, Harrison and Starkey in the form of written affidavits, read aloud by barristers. In his statement, Lennon revealed the chaotic manner in which Apple Corps operated. He had only recently discovered that two company cars Apple had bought had 'completely disappeared, and that we owned a house which no one can remember buying'. Lennon described fractious business meetings with Klein and the Eastmans, describing Paul's brother-in-law as 'excitable and easily confused. Lee Eastman was more impressive at first sight, but after five minutes' conversation he lost his temper and became quite hysterical, screaming and shouting abuse at Klein'. In his affidavit, George Harrison contrasted a happy, relaxed time he'd spent recently with Bob Dylan in upstate New York with working with Paul, who, he said, had always shown a 'superior att.i.tude' to him. George believed, however, that the showdown at Twickenham had cleared the air. 'Since the row Paul has treated me more as a musical equal ...' In perhaps the most revealing affidavit, Ritchie said: 'Paul is the greatest ba.s.s player in the world. He is also very determined. He goes on and on to see if he can get his own way. While that may be a virtue, it did mean that musical disagreements inevitably arose from time to time.' On Friday 26 February, as 'Another Day' went to number two in the UK charts, Paul went into the witness box to answer these affidavits, telling the court, among other things, of a conversation he'd had with Allen Klein in which Klein blamed Yoko for the discord within the band, saying, 'The real trouble is Yoko. She is the one with ambition.' Paul wondered aloud what John would have said if he'd heard that basic truth. He had now.

Leaving the lawyers to get on with the case, Paul and Linda flew to Los Angeles to complete Ram Ram. Despite the good work done in New York, Paul had become bogged down in indecision, unable to select between the 20 or so songs he had recorded. To try and help his brother-in-law finish the record, John Eastman introduced Paul to the fashionable producer Jim Guercio, a fellow Eastman & Eastman client who'd won a Grammy for his work with Blood, Sweat and Tears. Guercio was so keen to produce Paul that he cancelled his honeymoon to help out with Ram Ram, laying down a new track, 'Dear Boy', and working to make a final selection from the songs Paul already had in the bag. It was clear McCartney felt under pressure to do better than his debut alb.u.m, partly in answer to Lennon's criticism of McCartney McCartney as Engelbert Humperdinck music. Yet the pressure had a paralysing effect on the star. Instead of finishing as Engelbert Humperdinck music. Yet the pressure had a paralysing effect on the star. Instead of finishing Ram Ram in LA, Paul kept fiddling with it, block-booking a Hollywood studio and insisting Guercio was there every day from 10:00 a.m. so they could record, though Paul rarely showed up before mid-afternoon. Then he'd smoke a joint and jam. Guercio tried to a.s.sert some discipline, but could not guide or control his star: 'Paul is not an artist you can direct or collaborate with. You kind of have [to] support his ideas.' As weeks pa.s.sed, and the alb.u.m was no nearer completion, Guercio gave Paul a suggested track listing and told him the engineers could do what was necessary. He had to go. 'I think he took offence. I said, "No, no, this isn't personal, Paul, you don't need me. I can't come in here every day. We've got to finish ... I have other obligations ... I gave up my d.a.m.n honeymoon here!' in LA, Paul kept fiddling with it, block-booking a Hollywood studio and insisting Guercio was there every day from 10:00 a.m. so they could record, though Paul rarely showed up before mid-afternoon. Then he'd smoke a joint and jam. Guercio tried to a.s.sert some discipline, but could not guide or control his star: 'Paul is not an artist you can direct or collaborate with. You kind of have [to] support his ideas.' As weeks pa.s.sed, and the alb.u.m was no nearer completion, Guercio gave Paul a suggested track listing and told him the engineers could do what was necessary. He had to go. 'I think he took offence. I said, "No, no, this isn't personal, Paul, you don't need me. I can't come in here every day. We've got to finish ... I have other obligations ... I gave up my d.a.m.n honeymoon here!'

The McCartneys were still in LA when, on 12 March 1971, Justice Stamp ruled in Paul's favour at the High Court in London. 'The appointment of Abkco [Klein's company], without the concurrence of Paul, was in my judgement a breach of the terms of the partnership deed,' said the judge. There was no evidence Klein had stolen money from the Beatles, but he had received excessive commission, and McCartney had grounds to distrust the American, whose statements read 'like the irresponsible patter of a second-rate salesman'. Under the terms of the Partnership Act, the judge appointed an accountant, James Douglas Spooner, to manage the Beatles' affairs until a full hearing on the issue of dissolving the partnership, which was McCartney's ultimate goal. The judge expected Paul to be successful, saying: 'The Beatles have long since ceased to perform as a group.' McCartney had conducted his case well, with the help of a first-cla.s.s legal team, showing himself to be a formidable courtroom adversary, one whom judges tended to side with in the future, appreciating his sensible, civil responses to difficult situations. When he went to law, McCartney usually got what he wanted. That evening a thwarted John Lennon threw bricks through the windows of Paul's London home in a childish attempt to get even with him.

James Spooner therefore became the Beatles' new, court-appointed manager, though his role was strictly that of a disinterested professional, rather than pop Svengali. He didn't move into the Apple Building, but undertook his duties from his usual desk in the City of London. Spooner (later Sir James Spooner) got on well with Paul, the little he saw of him, and tended to agree with McCartney's view that Allen Klein was a crook, while the accountant considered John Lennon simply impossible. 'John Lennon was a popular hero, a brilliant man, but terribly tiresome,' he observed, likewise declaring McCartney was correct to sue his band mates. 'They'd have been bust otherwise. The [others] foolishly took on this crook called Klein as a manager and Klein firstly ripped them off something shocking, by taking a percentage off the gross gross, rather than off the net, after expenses.'

Sir James alleges that when McCartney failed to sign with Klein in 1969, his signature was actually forged. 'They wrote some doc.u.ment which they claimed Paul had signed as a partnership deed, or new partnership deed, or new partnership agreement. In fact he wasn't in the room when it was signed ... it was a very crooked piece of paper, as far as I recall.' Sir James concedes that Klein negotiated an advantageous royalty deal with EMI, 'the percentage that the Beatles were getting out of EMI was far far higher than higher than any anybody had ever achieved before, but the trouble was that Klein, as I say, took his cut before any expenses of any sort, or tried to do so'. If Paul hadn't sued the Beatles, Sir James believes the band would have drowned in debt.

If they hadn't been a success they'd all have been bankrupt because they had huge tax liabilities on previous years, which n.o.body had ever helped them [with], or told them how to meet or reserve for. But happily they were earning a million a year each even then, and going upwards, so they were able to pay past tax liabilities out of the current income and future income.

Having won the first round of his legal battle, Paul retreated with Linda to High Park, where he atavistically enjoyed the rural life his Irish forebears had led before Owen Mohin crossed the Irish Sea. Unlike his ancestors Paul was a millionaire smallholder, one who commuted to his steading in a convertible Rolls Royce, or private jet, depending on how much time he had, shearing a few sheep for recreation before leaving the farm in the hands of his estate manager Duncan Cairns, disappearing back down to London or abroad. Neighbours were amazed at the way Paul and Linda flitted about the world. Alec McLean, who farmed adjacent High Ranachan Farm with his brother Duncan, was cutting thistles one afternoon in May 1971 when he saw Paul and Linda driving down to the main road. The McCartneys stopped to say h.e.l.lo, and mentioned that they were on their way to a wedding. Alec wished them well, imagining this was a local wedding. When he turned on the television that night, he discovered that in the few hours since he'd seen Paul and Linda they'd flown to France to attend Mick Jagger's nuptials.

Despite the remoteness of High Park, fans increasingly found their way to the farm. One morning the McLeans were getting their cows in when their dog started sniffing round the sheds. Duncan discovered five hippies inside. They wanted to practise their yoga near a Beatle. The hippies turned out to be nice people, but other fans could be worrying. 'I've been working at the sink and looked around and somebody was peeking in the window, thinking this was maybe [Paul's house],' says Alice McLean. One Christmas Day a man came to the door asking where Paul lived, saying he had had to see him. 'He said he wrote songs and the more I engaged him in conversation the more I realised he was quite cracked - he was a musician, and he was victimised.' When the McCartneys became aware that such people were in the area, or if they knew the press were up, Linda would ring round and apologise for any inconvenience, reminding her neighbours to please not tell strangers where they lived. Linda proved adept at befriending local people, fitting surprisingly snugly into Kintyre life. The American particularly enjoyed hailing Scottish neighbours with the local cry of 'Hoots happenin' in the wee toon? ', to see him. 'He said he wrote songs and the more I engaged him in conversation the more I realised he was quite cracked - he was a musician, and he was victimised.' When the McCartneys became aware that such people were in the area, or if they knew the press were up, Linda would ring round and apologise for any inconvenience, reminding her neighbours to please not tell strangers where they lived. Linda proved adept at befriending local people, fitting surprisingly snugly into Kintyre life. The American particularly enjoyed hailing Scottish neighbours with the local cry of 'Hoots happenin' in the wee toon? ',40 which sounded very amusing coming from a foreigner. which sounded very amusing coming from a foreigner.

One of the most bothersome fans was a Mormon girl from Utah. She camped with a friend on the edge of a wood within 100 yards of Paul's farmhouse, watching the McCartneys from the trees. 'And they couldn't move them,' recalls neighbour Rory Colville, 'as long as they didn't intrude they could sit there all day with their binoculars and watch Paul.' In the summer of 1971, the Mormon complained to the local police that Paul had a.s.saulted her: 'Paul came out of the house and drove up in his Land Rover. He jumped out and began shouting and swearing. I don't remember much about what happened, but my nose was bleeding. ' Paul confirmed that he had confronted the girl, but denied a.s.sault. 'For three years now I have been asking her politely - pleading with her - to leave me and my family alone. She refuses to recognise that I am married with a family.' Nothing came of the complaint and Paul ultimately solved the problem by buying the wood in which the girls had camped. This was the start of a process of purchasing adjacent tracts of land, indeed whole farms, as they came on the market, to gain privacy. When Archie Revie at Low Ranachan retired, Paul bought his 304 acres, plus his farmhouse, which the star began to use as a rehearsal s.p.a.ce and accommodation for visiting musicians. Next he bought Low Park Farm from the McDougals, by which time it was difficult to gain a glimpse of Paul's cottage without straying onto his land.

Despite the occasional intruder, Paul and his family continued to enjoy High Park, and their happy life there is commemorated on Ram Ram, particularly the song 'Heart of the Country', while the alb.u.m cover features a photo Linda took of Paul shearing their Black Face sheep. Inside, the alb.u.m was ill.u.s.trated with a collage of snapshots, many of which were also taken by Linda on the property, emphasising the fact that, although they had employed session musicians and indeed an orchestra to make Ram Ram, this was another homemade McCartney production, one in which all the songs were credited to Paul and Linda McCartney. This may have been a ruse. Under the terms of the contracts he had signed as a Beatle, any songs Paul wrote until 1973 were owned by Northern Songs and an ent.i.ty named Maclen Music. By crediting new songs to Paul and Linda McCartney, he clawed back half the royalties. How much writing Linda actually did is questionable, and indeed Paul's publishers took the view that his wife wasn't capable of being his co-writer, suing him on that basis (the dispute was later settled out of court). Paul said in their defence (making one feel somewhat sorry for Linda): You know - suddenly she marries him and suddenly she's writing songs. 'Oh sure (wink, wink). Oh, sure, she's writing songs.' But actually one day I just said to her, 'I'm going to teach you how to write if I have to strap you to the piano bench.' ... I like to collaborate on songs [and] if I can have Linda working with me, then it becomes like a game. It's fun. So we wrote about ten songs [together]. You know - suddenly she marries him and suddenly she's writing songs. 'Oh sure (wink, wink). Oh, sure, she's writing songs.' But actually one day I just said to her, 'I'm going to teach you how to write if I have to strap you to the piano bench.' ... I like to collaborate on songs [and] if I can have Linda working with me, then it becomes like a game. It's fun. So we wrote about ten songs [together].

For many people, Ram Ram is one of Paul's best solo alb.u.ms, with a Beatles sparkle, notably on 'Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey', which became a hit single, as indeed is one of Paul's best solo alb.u.ms, with a Beatles sparkle, notably on 'Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey', which became a hit single, as indeed Ram Ram was a very successful alb.u.m, reaching number one in the UK, number two in the US charts. was a very successful alb.u.m, reaching number one in the UK, number two in the US charts. Ram Ram is certainly more highly finished than is certainly more highly finished than McCartney McCartney and it has an abundance of catchy tunes. Despite all the prevarication over the final song selection there was, however, a sense that Paul had released a record that still needed work. The lyrics are so-so, ranging from veiled sarcasm ('Too Many People') to simplistic celebrations of love ('Long Haired Lady') via novelty ('Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey'). Taken as a whole, there is a lack of discipline and focus as there was on and it has an abundance of catchy tunes. Despite all the prevarication over the final song selection there was, however, a sense that Paul had released a record that still needed work. The lyrics are so-so, ranging from veiled sarcasm ('Too Many People') to simplistic celebrations of love ('Long Haired Lady') via novelty ('Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey'). Taken as a whole, there is a lack of discipline and focus as there was on McCartney McCartney, as well as a sense that, without a strong collaborator like John Lennon, or an authoritative producer like George Martin, Paul struggled to distinguish between what was good enough to release and what would be better cut.

Although frequently derided, the rock music of the early 1970s was often superb. Recent months had yielded Bridge Over Troubled Water Bridge Over Troubled Water (Simon and Garfunkel), (Simon and Garfunkel), Hot Rats Hot Rats (Frank Zappa), (Frank Zappa), All Things Must Pa.s.s All Things Must Pa.s.s (George Harrison), (George Harrison), Tapestry Tapestry (Carole King) and (Carole King) and Blue Blue (Joni Mitch.e.l.l); with (Joni Mitch.e.l.l); with Who's Next Who's Next (The Who), Led Zeppelin's unt.i.tled fourth alb.u.m, and David Bowie's (The Who), Led Zeppelin's unt.i.tled fourth alb.u.m, and David Bowie's Hunky Dory Hunky Dory soon to follow. All these records had a musical and/or intellectual weight that made them great in their day, and marks them as cla.s.sics now. soon to follow. All these records had a musical and/or intellectual weight that made them great in their day, and marks them as cla.s.sics now. Ram Ram is not and never was in the same cla.s.s, which is concerning because there was much more of this sort of music to come from Paul McCartney. All such judgements are, of course, subjective. Many fans loved is not and never was in the same cla.s.s, which is concerning because there was much more of this sort of music to come from Paul McCartney. All such judgements are, of course, subjective. Many fans loved Ram Ram. Other listeners wondered what had happened to the man who had been a prime mover in the world's greatest pop band. While it had been ridiculous to suggest in 1969 that Paul McCartney was dead, one might wonder if he'd undergone a lobotomy before leaving the Beatles.

Whimsy had always been one of Paul's musical moods, as it was one of John's. In the context of the Beatles it was charming - Paul's 'Yellow Submarine', for example, John's 'I am the Walrus' - but in Paul's solo career whimsy too often became annoying. There is a surfeit on McCartney McCartney and and Ram Ram, and in June 1971 Paul indulged this side of himself to the full by hiring session musicians to record light orchestral versions of the Ram Ram songs. One of the musicians hired for the gig was Clem Cattini, who'd known Paul when the Beatles were playing the ABC Blackpool and Clem was drumming with the Tornados on the North Pier. 'I c.r.a.pped myself a bit when I walked in[to Abbey Road] and I'm doing a session for Paul McCartney.' Paul wasn't going to play on this new record himself, just direct. To play ba.s.s, he hired Brian 'Herbie' Flowers. Also on the sessions were the Mike Sammes Singers, a vocal group who sang on 'I am the Walrus', but more typically emitted the songs. One of the musicians hired for the gig was Clem Cattini, who'd known Paul when the Beatles were playing the ABC Blackpool and Clem was drumming with the Tornados on the North Pier. 'I c.r.a.pped myself a bit when I walked in[to Abbey Road] and I'm doing a session for Paul McCartney.' Paul wasn't going to play on this new record himself, just direct. To play ba.s.s, he hired Brian 'Herbie' Flowers. Also on the sessions were the Mike Sammes Singers, a vocal group who sang on 'I am the Walrus', but more typically emitted the oohs oohs and and aahs aahs on television commercials. Partly as a result, the record they made at Abbey Road sounds like incidental television music, with a on television commercials. Partly as a result, the record they made at Abbey Road sounds like incidental television music, with a soupcon soupcon of the tea dance. Jim Mac's Band must have sounded similar. While Paul naturally enjoyed hearing his tunes orchestrated, with the help of the arranger Richard Hewson, one suspects he may have made these curious recordings primarily to please his father. In short, this was an indulgence. It was also an anachronism in the context of his career and it wasn't released for six years. When Paul did finally put this odd record out, he did so as quietly as possible under a pseudonym, t.i.tling the alb.u.m of the tea dance. Jim Mac's Band must have sounded similar. While Paul naturally enjoyed hearing his tunes orchestrated, with the help of the arranger Richard Hewson, one suspects he may have made these curious recordings primarily to please his father. In short, this was an indulgence. It was also an anachronism in the context of his career and it wasn't released for six years. When Paul did finally put this odd record out, he did so as quietly as possible under a pseudonym, t.i.tling the alb.u.m Thrillington Thrillington after an invented character named Percy 'Thrills' Thrillington 'Born in Coventry Cathedral in 1939'. Somehow this wasn't as amusing as Paul obviously thought it was. after an invented character named Percy 'Thrills' Thrillington 'Born in Coventry Cathedral in 1939'. Somehow this wasn't as amusing as Paul obviously thought it was.

More importantly, in the week of the Thrillington Thrillington session, Paul formally adopted eight-year-old Heather See as his daughter. Although a couple of hippies in many respects, there was a traditional parental firmness to Paul and Linda McCartney. 'We explain to Heather that she can't have too much ice-cream or that sweets will ruin her teeth - that sort of thing,' Paul said. 'She's going to get the lot when she's 21 and I want her to have learned how to cope when that time comes. I don't want her to be a spoilt little brat. We're really quite strict with her in some ways.' Indeed some observers felt Paul was stricter with Heather than his own natural children. As yet, Heather could only be measured against Mary McCartney, who was coming up for two, but Lin was pregnant again. session, Paul formally adopted eight-year-old Heather See as his daughter. Although a couple of hippies in many respects, there was a traditional parental firmness to Paul and Linda McCartney. 'We explain to Heather that she can't have too much ice-cream or that sweets will ruin her teeth - that sort of thing,' Paul said. 'She's going to get the lot when she's 21 and I want her to have learned how to cope when that time comes. I don't want her to be a spoilt little brat. We're really quite strict with her in some ways.' Indeed some observers felt Paul was stricter with Heather than his own natural children. As yet, Heather could only be measured against Mary McCartney, who was coming up for two, but Lin was pregnant again.

ANOTHER BAND.

Having begun to extricate himself from the Beatles, and having released two exploratory solo alb.u.ms, Paul's next move was to form a band. He intended to develop the group slowly, as the Beatles had been able to grow naturally, enjoying the process of playing small shows again, and making records in a relaxed collaborative atmosphere.

When it came to choosing the members, Paul first telephoned the New York session men he had been working with on Ram Ram, Denny Seiwell and Hugh McCracken, inviting the guys and their wives over to Scotland. 'I thought he meant take a vacation,' says Seiwell, who arrived in the UK with his wife Monique on 23 June 1971. 'That's when he says, "Yeah, I've invited Hugh up here as well. I'm thinking of putting together a band."' Seiwell hadn't been to the UK before, and its Scottish extremities were a culture shock. 'It wasn't as much fun as I thought it was going to be.' He and Monique, and Hugh and Holly McCracken, were put up at the Argyle Arms Hotel in Campbeltown, where they found the food disappointing while the nights were so cold they had to go to bed with hot water bottles. And this was supposed to be summer!

Although it was only a short drive from the Argyle Arms to Paul's farm, High Park seemed incredibly remote and basic to the New Yorkers, who wondered, as many others would, why such a rich man chose to rough it like this, not appreciating that Paul and Linda enjoyed a rustic contrast to their metropolitan life. 'Two bedrooms and a kitchen, a cement floor. The walls were finished in unpainted pine. It was very, very bare,' says Seiwell, ticking off the primitive features. Recording equipment was set up in an adjacent lean-to shed, which Paul named Rude Studios: a nod to reggae influences (Paul and Lin had recently started to holiday in the Caribbean and loved reggae music). The McCartneys showed their American friends over the farm, and had a few drinks with them in the evening. Relaxed and convivial though Paul was, one subject was obviously out of bounds. Paul did not mention the Beatles, and without anything being said the American visitors understood that they shouldn't ask him about the band.

Music-making started awkwardly. 'As we were leaving, Linda said, "Would you mind coming back tomorrow and maybe leaving your wives at home? We're going to spend the day playing some music,"' Seiwell recalls. This didn't go down well with Monique and Holly. Having come to Scotland with their husbands for what they thought was to be a vacation, the American women were obliged to entertain themselves at the Argyle Arms while their menfolk made music with the McCartneys up at High Park. After a few days of this, Hugh McCracken told Paul that he and his wife had to go back to New York. Hugh didn't want to be in Paul's band. The Seiwells were also going back to New York, but Denny told Paul he would return if he wanted him.

The nucleus of the new group therefore became Paul, Linda and Denny Seiwell. As yet Linda didn't play an instrument. Paul was sure she could pick up keyboards, so when they got back to London Lin went for lessons with an elderly Cavendish Avenue neighbour named Mrs Matthews. The lessons didn't go well. 'Mrs Matthews gave up. She said, "I can't teach you any more!"' recalls Evelyn Grumi, whose family occupied the apartment over Mrs Matthews's bas.e.m.e.nt flat in Cavendish Avenue, across from Paul, and were thereby obliged to listen to Linda plonking about on the piano. 'Mrs Matthews said, "I've had enough of her, she's stupid, she doesn't even know her right hand from her left."' So it was that Paul found himself in a band with a woman who could neither sing nor play. As George Martin remarked drily, 'I don't think Linda is a subst.i.tute for John Lennon.'

To be fair, Linda never pretended to be Paul's musical peer. She didn't really want to be in the band at all. It was Paul's fancy that his wife should work with him. He found it 'comforting'. Professional sidemen would cover Linda's b.u.m notes. Her value was the moral support she gave Paul. More than a wife and band member, he saw Linda as his career partner now, using her as his link with the world, which is to say that Mrs McCartney was the one who made calls on Paul's behalf, getting information he wanted, screening out people he didn't want to speak to, making the peace with those he'd upset, and dispensing hard news. It was of course Paul who wanted Monique Seiwell and Holly McCracken out of the way so he, Denny, Hugh and Lin could jam together at High Park, but he delegated the ticklish task of telling the women they were surplus to requirements to Lin, a tough broad who grew tougher during their long marriage.

Still, Paul also felt the need of a more experienced musician in the band, someone he could write with, play with and sing harmony with, as he had with Lennon. He chose Denny Laine, a musician he'd known since the early 1960s when Denny had fronted the Midlands band the Diplomats. The musician's given name was Brian Hines, born in Birmingham of Romany Gypsy descent in 1944. He took the stage name of Laine in honour of Cleo Laine and Frankie Laine, two singers he admired. Denny was a childhood nickname. A friendly, easy-going guy with a broad Birmingham accent and a wide love of music, particularly jazz and blues, in 1964 Denny co-founded the Moody Blues, who supported the Beatles on tour and went to number one with 'Go Now'. Denny knew the Beatles well by this stage. 'All the boys were friends of mine ... I used to go to the clubs with Paul and Jane Asher, and we used to talk forever about music ... I used to go to the parties, I went to Abbey Road to some of their Sgt. Pepper Sgt. Pepper sessions.' As a result, Denny was relaxed around Paul, not somebody who would ask a lot of star-struck questions about the Beatles. 'I think that's why Paul wanted me in the band - because he knew I wouldn't bring up all that stuff. That's kind of boring for him.' In 1966 Denny left the Moodies to form the Electric String Band, after which he played briefly with Ginger Baker's Air Force. Always bad with money, Denny was unemployed, broke, and sleeping in his manager's office when Paul called offering him a gig. 'Hey man, how's it going? Long time no see. Fancy putting a band together?' McCartney asked, as Denny recalls their perfunctory conversation. sessions.' As a result, Denny was relaxed around Paul, not somebody who would ask a lot of star-struck questions about the Beatles. 'I think that's why Paul wanted me in the band - because he knew I wouldn't bring up all that stuff. That's kind of boring for him.' In 1966 Denny left the Moodies to form the Electric String Band, after which he played briefly with Ginger Baker's Air Force. Always bad with money, Denny was unemployed, broke, and sleeping in his manager's office when Paul called offering him a gig. 'Hey man, how's it going? Long time no see. Fancy putting a band together?' McCartney asked, as Denny recalls their perfunctory conversation.

'Yeah, great. That's perfect timing. I'm doing nothing ... I'll see you tomorrow.' Denny flew to Scotland the next day, meeting Linda McCartney and Denny Seiwell at the farm.

Confusingly, this meant there were now two men named Denny in the band, both hired on a salary basis and initially paid a retainer of 70 a week ($107). This was a reasonable wage in 1971, when you could rent a house for 5 a week ($7.65), but certainly not riches, especially not for Seiwell who had the additional expense of relocating from New York to the UK. He and Monique rented a farm near the McCartneys initially, Laine staying as their house guest. Money soon became an issue with Seiwell, whereas happy-go-lucky Laine was more relaxed about it. 'I wasn't looking for anything more than that to start with, because I knew there would be a deal along the line, that it was just a retainer so we wouldn't go off and do something else.'

Not long after the formation of the band, the McCartneys returned to London so that Lin could give birth to her third child, Paul's second. She went into labour at King's College Hospital and it was a long and complicated labour, Linda finally giving birth on 13 September 1971 to a daughter the couple named Stella Nina McCartney. So anxious had Paul been about the difficult pregnancy, and so thankful was he that mother and daughter had come through OK, that he imagined a guardian angel with wings standing over the family. It was this image that gave him the name for the new band. They would be Wings.

16.

THE NEW BAND.

'TAKE IT, TONY!'

Wings began recording their first alb.u.m in London, working quickly and using up leftovers from Paul's LA sessions. The record was Wild Life Wild Life, named after one of Paul's new compositions - an inchoate song about animal welfare the lyrics of which were sketchy to the point of meaninglessness. 'Man, you've gotta care' was the considered message. Musically, this and several other tracks on Wings' debut alb.u.m sound like stoned jams; the very first track, 'Mumbo', most obviously was was a jam, over which Paul could be heard yelling excitedly to his engineer. As with his two previous alb.u.ms, Paul was the producer, and again, without a strong hand to rein him in, he was content to release tracks that should never have left the studio, including folderol like 'Bip Bop'. a jam, over which Paul could be heard yelling excitedly to his engineer. As with his two previous alb.u.ms, Paul was the producer, and again, without a strong hand to rein him in, he was content to release tracks that should never have left the studio, including folderol like 'Bip Bop'.

The whole alb.u.m was recorded and released with reckless speed. 'Five of the eight tracks41 were first takes,' notes the drummer, Denny Seiwell. were first takes,' notes the drummer, Denny Seiwell.

Whatever we did as a band was going to be compared to the last thing they heard of the Beatles, so what we were trying to do was give an honest representation of this new band, and we didn't want to use every studio trick in the world ... it's gonna be a little raggedy, but that is what we are ... that record was done in a heartbeat. I mean 'Mumbo', we were just jamming, fooling around in the studio and you can hear him screaming at the engineer, cos it was getting good: 'Take it, Tony!'42 The band had a rocking sound, which was partly Denny Laine's influence. The guitarist says he envisaged Wings as 'a rough and tumble rock/blues-type' band. But there were no shortage of good-time rock 'n' roll bands in the early 1970s, and in the cold light of day there were only two interesting songs on Wild Life Wild Life: 'Tomorrow' and 'Dear Friend'. Recorded in LA during the West Coast sessions for Ram Ram, the latter is sometimes read as a message from Paul to John Lennon, but in truth it could mean almost anything, so insubstantial are the words, and by the time Paul had made Wild Life Wild Life John had addressed their broken friendship much more eloquently on his John had addressed their broken friendship much more eloquently on his Imagine Imagine alb.u.m, which he made with help from George Harrison and Klaus Voormann, under the direction of Phil Spector, demonstrating in the process what a difference a professional producer can make. Paul's record sounded amateurish and thin; alb.u.m, which he made with help from George Harrison and Klaus Voormann, under the direction of Phil Spector, demonstrating in the process what a difference a professional producer can make. Paul's record sounded amateurish and thin; Imagine Imagine sounded big as a mountain, Lennon touching profundity with the t.i.tle song, 'Imagine'; delivering a powerful anti-war message in 'I Don't Wanna be a Soldier Mama I Don't Wanna Die'; and writing a love song as tender as any Paul had penned with 'Jealous Guy'. sounded big as a mountain, Lennon touching profundity with the t.i.tle song, 'Imagine'; delivering a powerful anti-war message in 'I Don't Wanna be a Soldier Mama I Don't Wanna Die'; and writing a love song as tender as any Paul had penned with 'Jealous Guy'.

Lennon was still sufficiently irked with Paul to mock him with Imagine Imagine , having himself photographed wrangling a pig for a souvenir postcard included with the LP, in parody of Paul shearing sheep on the cover of , having himself photographed wrangling a pig for a souvenir postcard included with the LP, in parody of Paul shearing sheep on the cover of Ram Ram, and including two songs that expressed contempt for his former partner. 'Crippled Inside', a country-and-western pastiche, described a man who was emotionally dead, while 'How Do You Sleep?' was direct character a.s.sa.s.sination, suggesting that Paul didn't know what the Beatles had on their hands when they made Sgt. Pepper Sgt. Pepper, noting nastily that 'those freaks' were right when they said Paul was dead; criticising Paul for living with 'straights' while being bossed about by his 'Mamma' (Linda). Most hurtfully, Lennon stated in 'How Do You Sleep? ' that the only song of consequence Paul had written was 'Yesterday', since when his music had been typified by the sugary 'Another Day', and soon everybody would realise his music was actually just Muzak - a disparaging reference to the American company that created muted versions of pop hits for public places, a use Paul's tunes were suited to. In summary, Lennon asked his old mate how he slept at night, the implication being that Macca was such a complete b.a.s.t.a.r.d his conscience - if he had one - should keep him awake. Was Lennon speaking the truth, seeing McCartney through the clear eyes of someone who had known him as man and boy, or was he merely trying to get even after his defeat in court? There is probably truth in both hypotheses. It should be remembered also that Lennon was abetted at this stage in his career by Phil Spector, whom Paul had crossed on Let It Be Let It Be. Spector now seemed to encourage Lennon in his feud, as an exchange between the two while they were working in New York on a new Christmas song ill.u.s.trates: 'Have you heard Paul's new alb.u.m? ' Spector asked Lennon, referring to Wild Life Wild Life.

'No.'

'It's really bad,' replied the producer spitefully, 'it's awful.'

'Don't talk about it. It depresses me.'

'Don't worry, John. Imagine Imagine is number one, and this will be number one, too. That's all that matters.' is number one, and this will be number one, too. That's all that matters.'43 These comments were reported in Melody Maker Melody Maker the week Paul launched Wings with a party at the Empire Ballroom in London's Leicester Square. Although security was tight, and many famous faces were among the guests, there was a relaxed, homely feel to the event that typified Wings, from the hand-made invitation cards to the McCartneys' own party clothes. Paul showed up in a baggy tartan suit, like a Caledonian clown. Lin wore a maternity dress. Paul had cut a sharp figure during the Sixties, never more so than when he strode across the Abbey Road zebra crossing in a beautifully tailored Savile Row suit. Now he had mislaid his style compa.s.s. It would be years until he found it again. Not all Seventies fashion was bad, but it is fair to say that Paul McCartney dressed appallingly throughout that decade and much of the Eighties, wearing vulgar and ill-chosen clothes and sporting a trendy yet hideous mullet haircut. the week Paul launched Wings with a party at the Empire Ballroom in London's Leicester Square. Although security was tight, and many famous faces were among the guests, there was a relaxed, homely feel to the event that typified Wings, from the hand-made invitation cards to the McCartneys' own party clothes. Paul showed up in a baggy tartan suit, like a Caledonian clown. Lin wore a maternity dress. Paul had cut a sharp figure during the Sixties, never more so than when he strode across the Abbey Road zebra crossing in a beautifully tailored Savile Row suit. Now he had mislaid his style compa.s.s. It would be years until he found it again. Not all Seventies fashion was bad, but it is fair to say that Paul McCartney dressed appallingly throughout that decade and much of the Eighties, wearing vulgar and ill-chosen clothes and sporting a trendy yet hideous mullet haircut.

There was a conscious turning away from the Sixties in other areas of his life. Despite the size of the Wings launch party, none of the other Beatles attended, and there were hardly any old faces from Apple at the function. It was as if Paul wanted to forget his ill.u.s.trious past. 'This was a fresh start, clean slate,' says Denny Seiwell, 'and we did not discuss the Beatles. Every once in a great while he might make a reference to an old story or something, but very, very seldom.'

The exception came when interviewers drew Paul on the ongoing legal fight over the break-up of the Beatles. 'I just want the four of us to get together somewhere and sign a piece of paper saying it's all over, and we want to divide the money four ways,' Paul told Melody Maker Melody Maker that month. Paul's personal a.s.sistant Sh.e.l.ley Turner, together with Laine and Seiwell, sat and listened uneasily as Paul went on about the Beatles break-up in what was meant to be a band interview. ('He's talking about money now. That's one of his pet points. He'll never stop,' Turner told the reporter in a worried aside. 'Please get him on to talking about Wings.') Still, Paul had more to say on the rift, responding to John's dig in 'How Do You Sleep?': 'So what if I live with straights?' he asked. 'It doesn't affect that month. Paul's personal a.s.sistant Sh.e.l.ley Turner, together with Laine and Seiwell, sat and listened uneasily as Paul went on about the Beatles break-up in what was meant to be a band interview. ('He's talking about money now. That's one of his pet points. He'll never stop,' Turner told the reporter in a worried aside. 'Please get him on to talking about Wings.') Still, Paul had more to say on the rift, responding to John's dig in 'How Do You Sleep?': 'So what if I live with straights?' he asked. 'It doesn't affect him him. He says the only thing I did was "Yesterday" and he knows that's wrong.'

Mild though this and Paul's other remarks were, Lennon retaliated with an open letter to Melody Maker Melody Maker, which had become a forum for the ex-Beatles to snipe at each other. 'Dear Paul, Linda, et all [sic] the wee McCartneys,' Lennon began, before resuming the old arguments about who owed what to whom, and challenging Paul's version of events in his recent interview. He mocked his former friend mercilessly throughout, referring to 'my obsessive old pal', and saying Paul took 'How Do You Sleep?' way too literally. One of the bones of contention between the men was Maclen Music. Lennon wanted Paul to sell his share to the other three, but according to Lennon Paul had refused. '... two weeks ago,' Lennon harangued his ex-friend, I asked you on the phone, 'Please let's meet without advisors etc., and decide what we want,' and I especially emphasised 'Maclen' which is mainly your concern, but you refused - right? You said under no condition would you sell to us, and if we didn't do what you wanted, you'd sue us again ... If you're not you're not the aggressor (as you claim) who the h.e.l.l took us to court and [s.h.i.t] all over us in public? the aggressor (as you claim) who the h.e.l.l took us to court and [s.h.i.t] all over us in public?

Paul chose not to respond publicly to these allegations.

BACK ON STAGE.

The McCartneys went to the United States for Thanksgiving, leaving their pets - Eddie, Martha, a Dalmatian named Lucky and several cats - in the care of their housekeeper Rose Martin. The McCartney menagerie was a source of disquiet in Cavendish Avenue where, despite his fame and wealth, Paul was not altogether popular. Some neighbours sn.o.bbishly looked down on Paul as nouveau riche nouveau riche, considering the press and fans he attracted a d.a.m.n nuisance. Then there was the time the McCartneys painted their listed house in bright colours, which led to complaints to the council, who made Paul change back to an authorised scheme; while one particular neighbour, Alice Griswold, an elderly woman whose wealth and cla.s.s were established by the fact she ran a chauffeur-driven Rolls Royce, seemed to have it in for the family. Mrs Griswold got it into her head that the McCartneys were neglecting their dogs, leaving them locked in the house while they were in America, and made a complaint to the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (RSPCA). When the McCartneys returned home, Paul went over the road and had 'a right row' with Mrs G. He told her sharply he'd never harm his dogs; he and Lin were animal-mad, and Rosie had been in every day to make sure the animals were all right. The man from the RSPCA agreed. Lin remarked that, 'Mrs Griswold gives me a pain in the you-know-what.'

After Christmas, Paul hired an additional guitarist for Wings. Born in Northern Ireland in 1943, Henry McCullough had been a professional musician since the age of 17, playing notably with Joe c.o.c.ker's Grease Band, and was an old friend of Denny Laine's. 'I wanted to bring more of a blues element into the band,' explains Laine. 'I didn't want to be in a pop group, and Henry was the epitome of a blues player.' So Henry joined Wings on the standard 70-a-week deal, rehearsing initially with the group in rooms off the Mall. It soon became clear that Henry didn't quite fit into Wings, which was poppier than both he and Laine wished, with a distinct weakness in the keyboard department. Henry suggested to Paul that they hire a professional keyboardist to strengthen their sound. Paul admitted that his wife was 'absolute rubbish' on keyboards, but there was no prospect of replacing her. 'Once that was accepted by meself and everybody else, that was it. Linda was 100 per cent a part of the band and that's the way we worked,' says Henry, who developed a respect for Mrs McCartney, as most Wings members did, not for her musical ability, but for her pluck and charm.

On Sunday 30 January 1972, what became known as b.l.o.o.d.y Sunday, news came from Northern Ireland that the British Army had opened fire on a Republican demonstration, killing 13 people: In the wake of this appalling incident, Paul did something that was for him very rare indeed: he wrote a protest song, not only condemning the shootings, which most people lamented, but calling for the British to get out of Ireland, which was more problematic because the Protestant Loyalist population feared they would be murdered by their Catholic neighbours if the British Army withdrew. In writing this song, Paul put himself on the side of the Republican movement and its terrorist group, the IRA, which was engaged in a murderous campaign against the British. Paul's maternal grandfather had been Irish, which gave him a personal connection to Ireland, but one wonders if his decision to write a Republican marching song had more to do with wanting to match John Lennon, who projected a trendy image of political engagement these days and had written two songs of his own about b.l.o.o.d.y Sunday, both of which shared the simplistic sentiment expressed by Paul in his self-describing 'Give Ireland Back to the Irish'. It is also possible that Paul wanted to reach out to John again by aligning himself with one of his old friend's pet causes. Certainly Paul tried hard to remake their friendship in the Seventies.

A slow song, with incongruously jaunty hand-claps, 'Give Ireland Back to the Irish' was released as a single in February 1972. It was the first major Wings project for Henry McCullough, an Ulster Protestant who says he didn't discuss the song with Paul and had been on the road too long to feel personally connected to Irish politics. 'I knew it would cause a little bit of a fuss,' is as far as he will go, diplomatically. It is hard to believe Henry was truly indifferent to a song that commented directly on the delicate politics of his homeland, and he certainly looked uncomfortable when Paul invited a US television crew into Cavendish Avenue to film Wings rehearsing the number. Paul gave the Americans a short interview, in which he said he didn't intend to become a political singer, but 'on this one occasion I think the British government overstepped the mark and showed themselves to be more of a sort of oppressive regime than I ever believed them to be'.

As the song was rush-released, Paul led his fledgling band out on the road for the first time. On the morning of Tuesday 8 February 1972, an Avis truck and green van pulled up outside 7 Cavendish Avenue. The McCartneys, together with their children, the band and the family dogs, climbed aboard the van; roadies Trevor Jones and Ian Horn loaded the truck with equipment, and the two vehicles headed north on the M1, whither no one knew. Paul was realising the ambition he'd harboured in the latter years of the Beatles to go back on the road and play small provincial shows, but he'd taken the concept to the extreme, setting off without any theatres booked.

After driving 130 miles north, Wings reached Nottingham University, where the roadies informed the students' union that they had Paul McCartney outside. Could Wings put on a show? Strange though this now seems, British rock bands such as the Who and Led Zeppelin did play universities at this time, building up their fan base, but acts didn't turn up at universities unannounced in the hope of a chance booking, and Paul McCartney's status as an ex-Beatle elevated him above and beyond everyday rock musicians. Then, as now, McCartney was one of the most famous entertainers in the world, and the students didn't believe he had come to play for them until they saw him for themselves sitting in the van with Lin and the kids, at which point the booking was made. The McCartneys went off to find a guest house, leaving their roadies to make the necessary arrangements. Fliers were posted around the campus advertising a surprise show the next day. The entrance fee would be just 40 new pence (61 cents).

So it was that the following lunchtime Paul McCartney got back on stage in Nottingham University Hall to play for a live paying audience for the first time since Candlestick Park. In a clear return to the start of his professional career he opened with a Little Richard cover, 'Lucille', after which it was mostly unknown territory. For Paul wasn't going to play any Beatles songs, and Wings were a new band without much of a repertoire. 'We haven't got too many numbers yet,' McCartney told the students, much as he and John must have apologised to the patrons of the Indra when the jejune Beatles first went to Hamburg. 'We're just checking things out.' The kids yelled that they didn't mind. Even so Wings could only play four original songs, including 'Wild Life'. The show was padded with Elvis covers, some jamming and more Little Richard, Paul closing with 'Long Tall Sally'.

Back in the van, Wings divvied up the takings, mostly in coins and one pound notes. 'Paul would go, "Here we go, one for you, one for you, one for you ..."' recalls Seiwell, adding with some bitterness: 'It was probably the most money I ever made touring with Paul and it was nothing, you know.'

The next night they played Goodridge College in York, followed by a string of university towns including Hull, Newcastle and Leeds. At each show, Wings performed 'Give Ireland Back to the Irish', which usually went down well with the students, but was banned by the BBC from its radio network for being too political, with Paul roundly criticised in the normally pro-McCartney national press for taking a simplistic stance on Northern Ireland. In response, he took out an advertis.e.m.e.nt in the Sun Sun newspaper urging the public to buy the record and make up their own mind. While many did purchase the single, the radio ban hindered sales, and 'Give Ireland Back to the Irish' rose no higher than number 16 in the UK charts. When Wings pa.s.sed through the university town of Lancaster, Linda aired her views on the issue for newspaper urging the public to buy the record and make up their own mind. While many did purchase the single, the radio ban hindered sales, and 'Give Ireland Back to the Irish' rose no higher than number 16 in the UK charts. When Wings pa.s.sed through the university town of Lancaster, Linda aired her views on the issue for Melody Maker Melody Maker, saying: 'Look, in Ireland the IRA was forced into existence by the fact that Britain took over the country more than 800 years ago, or whenever it was. Therefore if the British got out of Ireland there'd be no need for the IRA ...' In response, a reader from Ulster wrote to the paper asking, if the McCartneys were so committed to the province, why didn't they come over and play in Ulster? Over the next few years Wings played all over the world, but they never gave a show in Northern Ireland. Perhaps Paul considered the province to be too dangerous.

Linda's musicianship proved as feeble as her political history. On one occasion, when Paul counted the band into 'Wild Life', he was met by silence from his left. Looking over, he saw his keyboardist wife mouthing back that she'd forgotten the chords! The audience didn't care, and neither did Paul. He was having a ball, while the guys in the band learned to accept Linda as an enthusiastic amateur, appreciating the family vibe a husband and wife playing together engendered.

Despite what Denny Laine hoped for, Wings was not 'a rough and tumble rock/blues-type' band. It was a Mom and Pop act. Backstage you were liable to find Mary and Heather McCartney drawing pictures while baby sister Stella (known as Stelly in the family) slept in a make-shift cot in a drawer. When Paul and Linda decided they needed a Wings fan club, they devised the jokey Wings Fun Club, seemingly pitched at children Heather's age rather than adults. Most significantly, the band's next single-despite the fact Paul was always talking about wanting to shake off his soft-centred image - was an arrangement of the children's nursery rhyme 'Mary Had a Little Lamb', because Mary McCartney had a pet lamb in Kintyre. Wings put the record out in May, as big a contrast to 'Give Ireland Back to the Irish' as could be imagined. Some commentators suggested it was meant sarcastically, as if Paul was telling the BBC: 'You won't play serious music, so we'll give you nursery rhymes.' But it was really about indulging the kids. Denny Laine felt very uncomfortable. 'If it was going to be going in that direction, and no other direction, I would not have liked it at all.' One can imagine how Laine felt when Paul had Wings mime to the song on the Basil Brush Show Basil Brush Show.

Most rock stars would be too concerned with their image to contemplate singing a nursery rhyme on a kids' TV show hosted by a fox glove puppet, but Paul had been so successful for so long that he seemed immured from such considerations. It was as if he believed the public would like him whatever he did, and if they didn't, so what? He was rich enough to do as he pleased. It was in this spirit that the McCartneys indulged their interests, however whimsical or childish. Linda was soppy about animals and, under her influence, Paul became animal-mad too, the couple and their children looking upon the entire animal kingdom as if it were of a piece with The Wonderful World of Disney The Wonderful World of Disney. Apart from working on the putative Rupert the Bear Rupert the Bear cartoon, and performing on the cartoon, and performing on the Basil Brush Show Basil Brush Show, the McCartneys now decided they should make an anthropomorphic Disney-type film about 'a family of cartoon mice living underneath the stage when we were performing', as Denny Seiwell recalls. Wings did some work on this at Elstree Film Studios, though the picture never saw the light of day. 'There was a lot of that kind of stuff going on.'

Being a parent had evidently changed Paul. Family life was now all important, and when he took Wings out on a European tour in the summer of 1972 there was a strong family feel to the enterprise. The band travelled in a brightly coloured double-decker bus, painted with the legend WINGS OVER EUROPE, the open top deck laid out with bean bags and mattresses for the McCartneys, their band and the kids to lounge about on. While the bus was no doubt huge fun for the wee McCartneys, it was a slow and inefficient way to navigate the continent. 'It only went 35 mph, so people would go whizzing by us on the motorways and see this gang of hippies in this bus. It was quite nice, but it didn't make a lot of sense,' remembers Seiwell, who also recalls that Linda suffered a severe attack of stage fright prior to their first-night show at Chateauvallon, a cultural centre near Ma.r.s.eille in the South of France. 'She was crying on my shoulder, she was scare