Fab_ An Intimate Life Of Paul McCartney Part 14

PRESSING ON.

Having worked with George Martin since the Tokyo bust, Paul felt the need of a change of producer as he approached his next studio alb.u.m. George wanted a rest from the demanding Paul, too. When everybody was sitting down at the annual Buddy Holly Week lunch in September 1984, George asked Eric Stewart if he would take the helm on the new record.

George said to me at this Buddy Holly Day dinner, 'I think you should help Paul with his next alb.u.m. I've got other things to do. I need a break and I think Paul needs a break as well. We've got two great alb.u.ms there, Tug of War Tug of War/Pipes of Peace, but I think some new blood should come in.' I said, 'He's not asked me.' He said, 'Would you be interested?' I said, 'Yeah.'

Having established that Eric would accept the challenge, Paul invited his friend to Suss.e.x to co-write some songs. It was a winter's day when Eric drove to Peasmarsh, the snow thick on the ground. Although Paul and Linda were now living in their new farmhouse, Paul had arranged to meet Eric at Waterfall, the little round house in the trees which he still owned. The house was looking pretty as a picture when Eric came up the drive.

So I got there in the snow and I said, 'It's beautiful outside, it's so beautiful, the sun's out.' He said, 'That's great, OK, [starts singing] It's beautiful outside It's beautiful outside ... Right, get it down, write it down.' And we wrote the whole song within [minutes]. Simple as that. ... Right, get it down, write it down.' And we wrote the whole song within [minutes]. Simple as that.

This was 'Footprints' on what would be the alb.u.m Press to Play Press to Play. Another song, 'Angry', came with similar ease a few days later in response to Paul reading an unflattering article about himself in a newspaper. Stewart can't recall what the story was, but it may well have been a negative article about the Broad Street Broad Street debacle. debacle.

I walked in another morning and I said, 'You look a bit tense,' and he said, 'Yeah, I'm f.u.c.king angry.' I said, 'What's the problem?' He said, 'The Press - look at this. [Holds up a paper]. What the h.e.l.l gives them the right to tell me what to do with my life?' I said, 'What? Hold it. Write it down,' What the h.e.l.l gives you the right to tell me what to do with my life? What the h.e.l.l gives you the right to tell me what to do with my life? ... And we've got 'Angry' started. ... And we've got 'Angry' started.

Eric and Paul swiftly completed eight songs in this way, then went into Hog Hill Mill to record them.

Although Eric had gained the impression Paul wanted him to produce the new alb.u.m, McCartney had also hired the fashionable young producer Hugh Padgham, who'd enjoyed recent success with Phil Collins and the Police. Tensions soon developed between Padgham and Stewart, who seemed to be competing for the same job, with both men finding they had an even greater problem with McCartney himself.

At first, Eric had been delighted with the songs he and Paul had written at Waterfall, songs which came easily and sounded fresh to his ears. Then he started to have misgivings about the quality of the tunes. 'I thought, Are they really good enough. Are they finished? I always thought when we get them in the studio we'll finish them, but as we got in the studio and we started to record, I said, "This is not good."' One day Eric clicked the talk-back b.u.t.ton and said: 'Paul, that vocal's not right.'

Paul asked Hugh Padgham his opinion. 'Well, it's OK, but I'm a sound man, Eric's the musician.'

'But what do you think?'

Hugh agreed with Eric. Privately, Hugh had been worried that the material was on the weak side, but a.s.sumed an artist of Paul's stature, working in tandem with someone as experienced as Eric, would improve the songs in the studio. Unfortunately, this wasn't happening. 'I don't think it's good enough,' he said, suggesting some more writing might be required. Paul's response shocked both Hugh and Eric.

'Hugh, when did you write your last number one?' McCartney asked, nastily.

As Padgham says, 'That one was a real kick in the b.a.l.l.s, which you don't forget.' Eric switched off the talk-back and groaned, Oh s.h.i.t! This is going wrong Oh s.h.i.t! This is going wrong. 'And it really did start to go wrong. There was this conflict there. And that was something that Paul could do. He could actually wither you with a sentence if he didn't like what you've said.' Eric later realised that he should have stood up to Paul at this point, and thrashed out whatever the problem was. But it was hard to argue with the man. 'It's difficult to tell Paul McCartney, isn't it? He's a great singer, he's written the greatest songs of all time and you're saying, "That's not good enough".' John Lennon had been able to have those candid conversations; George Martin could tell Paul when he was wrong. 'Could I do it? No.' Despite the fact they had known each other since the Cavern, and had worked closely for five years, Eric was tongue-tied.

We never discussed it afterwards. But after about another week of this, I said, 'Hold it, this is not working for me.' I said, 'You carry on with it. I'm just going to come down and pick my guitars up ... I'm not really adding anything here but conflict, because it's not good enough.' Let Padgham carry on with it.

So Eric left, and Hugh found himself alone with Paul, renting a nearby beach house where he lived an increasingly miserable existence as work on this difficult alb.u.m dragged on for an amazing 18 months, the producer becoming thoroughly fed up with Paul McCartney in the process.

At first it felt like a great honour to be asked to produce Paul's new alb.u.m, and Padgham had hoped that, after Give My Regards to Broad Street Give My Regards to Broad Street and and Rupert and the Frog Song Rupert and the Frog Song, he could give Paul back some 'cred' (credibility), 'cred' being a vogue Eighties term people like him were using. As work on Press to Play Press to Play stretched on month after month, Hugh discovered what other producers had before him: he couldn't tell Paul anything. Also, Paul's charm wore off. Years ago Paul hardly talked about the Beatles. Nowadays he told the same old Beatles stories again and again, until they were frankly boring, and n.o.body had the courage to tell him he was repeating himself. Also, he seemed obsessed with what the public thought of him in relation to John Lennon. Outside of music, Paul's conversation was ba.n.a.l, often about what he'd seen on TV, as Padgham recalls: stretched on month after month, Hugh discovered what other producers had before him: he couldn't tell Paul anything. Also, Paul's charm wore off. Years ago Paul hardly talked about the Beatles. Nowadays he told the same old Beatles stories again and again, until they were frankly boring, and n.o.body had the courage to tell him he was repeating himself. Also, he seemed obsessed with what the public thought of him in relation to John Lennon. Outside of music, Paul's conversation was ba.n.a.l, often about what he'd seen on TV, as Padgham recalls: It was like he'd been up all night watching television, because he was like a walking version of the Radio Times Radio Times. I think he would have literally gone home at six or seven o'clock and probably stayed up till one o'clock watching TV with a spliff, and a drink, and he probably didn't really think anything of the alb.u.m. He was just watching telly. He'd come in the mornings, 'Did you see this last night?'

The producer was invited up to Paul and Lin's new house, Blossom Farm. Says Hugh: To start with I really thought he was this guy who was really normal, sent his children to the local comprehensive school, and lived in a pretty modest house, and seemed one of the lads, but by the end of 18 months I didn't feel like that at all ... It was either a facade, or he's got many faces of which the charming one is maybe turned on when you're new to the fold and impressionable. All the people who work for him, if he said jump they'd go, 'From what floor? ' ... I've worked in this business for 30-something years with a lot of people just as famous as him and some are really nice and some are affected by it, and if you think that McCartney probably hasn't been able to walk down a street without somebody wanting to kiss his a.r.s.e from the age of 17, I imagine it would affect you, possibly in an insidious way as well where you don't realise. But if he doesn't get his own way, then he throws his toys out of the pram. To start with I really thought he was this guy who was really normal, sent his children to the local comprehensive school, and lived in a pretty modest house, and seemed one of the lads, but by the end of 18 months I didn't feel like that at all ... It was either a facade, or he's got many faces of which the charming one is maybe turned on when you're new to the fold and impressionable. All the people who work for him, if he said jump they'd go, 'From what floor? ' ... I've worked in this business for 30-something years with a lot of people just as famous as him and some are really nice and some are affected by it, and if you think that McCartney probably hasn't been able to walk down a street without somebody wanting to kiss his a.r.s.e from the age of 17, I imagine it would affect you, possibly in an insidious way as well where you don't realise. But if he doesn't get his own way, then he throws his toys out of the pram.

Paul sometimes showed his bad temper in public, too. One day, before driving to Hog Hill Mill to work with Hugh, he and Linda took seven-year-old James to the village school in Peasmarsh. They arrived to find that teachers on strike over low pay were protesting at the school gates. One of the teachers, Brian Moses, offered Paul a leaflet explaining their action. 'Are you striking teachers? ' Paul asked Moses, clearly unimpressed.

'Well, yes, we are at the moment, because our pay isn't enough for us to live on.'

'Take a good look,' Paul told his son, as if showing James particularly wicked people. 'They are striking teachers.'

When he had taken James into school, Paul came outside and tore up the teachers' leaflet ostentatiously, throwing the pieces in the road. 'I just thought, You sod! If Lennon had been there, he would have been on the picket line with us!' says Moses, who described the incident in a letter to his union newspaper, the Teacher Teacher, making the point that if Paul McCartney tried to support his four children on a teacher's salary he'd be eligible for supplementary benefit. At the time an average teacher's salary was 5,442 a year ($8,296). McCartney drew a basic salary from MPL of 200,000 a year ($306,000), which he used to cover his expenses. He received other, Beatles income above and beyond this, of course. Despite portraying himself as a normal bloke, Paul was therefore far removed from the lives of everyday people like Moses, whose school-gate confrontation with the star became national news. 'I had always admired him for sending his children to state schools,' the teacher told the Daily Mirror Daily Mirror. 'I expected more support.'

Back at Hog Hill Mill, Paul's relationship with Hugh Padgham hit rock bottom. When Paul's 43rd birthday rolled around in June, the producer gave Paul the music edition of the popular board game Trivial Pursuit Trivial Pursuit. Over the weekend, Paul evidently had the game out at home. When he came back into work on Monday he complained bitterly that one of the questions in the game was about the death of his own mother, something he took amiss.

He really had a go at me as if it was my fault that it was in there, or my fault that I gave him this box of Trivial Pursuit Trivial Pursuit questions that had this, as far as he was concerned, insensitive [question]. It was like, questions that had this, as far as he was concerned, insensitive [question]. It was like, f.u.c.kin' h.e.l.l, you know, it's not my fault. Sorry! f.u.c.kin' h.e.l.l, you know, it's not my fault. Sorry! Ha! Ha!

As the two men struggled to complete this unhappy alb.u.m, Paul was asked to support a charity concert at Wembley Stadium. Towards the end of 1984, Bob Geldof, leader of the new-wave band the Boomtown Rats, had been shocked by news coverage of a famine in Ethiopia into corralling pop stars together to record a charity single, 'Do They Know It's Christmas?', which surpa.s.sed 'Mull of Kintyre' as the best-selling single in the history of the British charts. A US version followed in the spring of 1985, after which Geldof organised twin concerts to aid Africa, a British show at Wembley Stadium and a sister show at the JFK Stadium in Philadelphia, with an integrated live telecast. Geldof felt he had to have McCartney headline in London, and wrote to the star asking him to perform 'Let It Be', explaining that 'Beatles' music for some reason evokes more emotional response than any other'. Although he hadn't performed live since 1979, Paul agreed to do the gig, letting Geldof know that he didn't mind if George and Ritchie were invited to join him on stage. Geldof called George Harrison at his holiday home in Hawaii, asking if he would play 'Let It Be' with Paul. 'He didn't ask me to sing on it [16] years ago, so why does he want me now?' Harrison retorted, his own relationship with Paul at a new low ebb. The men had recently had a ratty telephone conversation during which George accused Paul of boasting to the press about how much money he made, though the reported 20 million a year ($30.6m) figure was an exaggeration.

The twin Live Aid concerts held on Sat.u.r.day 13 July 1985 were the most significant live events in popular music since the Sixties. Not since the Woodstock Festival had so many first-cla.s.s rock acts been a.s.sembled, the international telecast adding an extra dimension to what was a truly memorable day. David Bowie, Elton John, Queen, U2 and the Who all performed in London, highlights of the American show including performances by a re-formed Led Zeppelin, Madonna and Mick Jagger singing with Tina Turner. The weather in Philadelphia was muggy. In England it was cloudy with sunny spells and a short, hard shower in the evening before McCartney came on stage alone.

It was obvious that there was a serious sound problem as soon as Paul began performing 'Let It Be' on a white grand piano on the Wembley stage. His voice was heard briefly at first, then disappeared for eight verses. Only the piano and intermittent shrieks of feedback were audible. Paul struggled on, hoping everything would work out, apparently willing the audience to help him. Although the stadium audience was made up of predominantly young people, a generation younger than those who'd followed the Beatles originally, the concert-goers recognised the tune Paul was playing and began singing the lyric in his place. When Paul's voice finally came through loud and clear the crowd gave a huge cheer, and sang along with 'Let It Be' enthusiastically until the end, David Bowie, Bob Geldof, Alison Moyet and Pete Townshend adding ragged backing vocals on stage. It was a shambolic performance, not helped by an overwrought Geldof shouting at the audience, 'Come on!', but the moment was undoubtedly moving, the strong audience reaction demonstrating the enduring power of the Beatles' songs, and showing that Paul - despite his advancing years and recent failures - was by common consensus the figurehead of British rock, which with Live Aid, attended by the Prince and Princess of Wales, was beginning to be a.s.similated into the Establishment. From now on, Paul's presence would be requested at virtually every large, set-piece music event of the kind, and many such concerts followed.

MIND THE GAP.

A few weeks after Live Aid there was another difficult scene at Hog Hill Mill when Paul heard that someone he had considered a friend, Michael Jackson, had invested $47.5 million (31m) of his Thriller Thriller fortune in ATV Music, making him the new owner of Northern Songs. When Michael had mentioned that he might buy Paul's songs, McCartney had dismissed the comment as a joke, still thinking that he might somehow buy the company back for himself one day. Now Jacko had beaten him to it. ' fortune in ATV Music, making him the new owner of Northern Songs. When Michael had mentioned that he might buy Paul's songs, McCartney had dismissed the comment as a joke, still thinking that he might somehow buy the company back for himself one day. Now Jacko had beaten him to it. 'He was absolutely furious,' recalls Hugh Padgham, speaking in italics. 'Oh my G.o.d, the air was blue.'

The making of Press to Play Press to Play dragged on into 1986, to the misery of the producer, who found that the lack of any financial concern about the cost of studio time (now Paul owned his own studio), twinned with Paul's penchant for smoking dope, meant that recording a McCartney alb.u.m could drift on almost indefinitely. dragged on into 1986, to the misery of the producer, who found that the lack of any financial concern about the cost of studio time (now Paul owned his own studio), twinned with Paul's penchant for smoking dope, meant that recording a McCartney alb.u.m could drift on almost indefinitely.

Sometimes it would be really tedious, like McCartney would put his ba.s.s on one of the songs and he'd get himself in a tizz about it. Then we'd stop for lunch and we'd have sandwiches, and he would go upstairs and smoke a joint up there, and he thought that we didn't know what was going on, then he'd come down and sit there for hours trying to play the ba.s.s and you could cut the air with a knife with the tension sometimes. And the tedium tedium. Oh!

To put the best gloss on weak material, Hugh called in crack session men and guest stars, including the New York guitarist Carlos Alomar, Phil Collins and Pete Townshend. Recalls Alomar, who is perhaps most famous for his work with David Bowie: 'We sat down and talked, "How was your trip? " Then he says, '"Let's go upstairs." We went upstairs. He rolled a joint. We smoked a nice big spliff, and then we started talking [music].' The American stayed a week at the mill, eating with Paul, Linda and the kids, and visiting the local pub in the evening. One bl.u.s.tery day, he and Paul flew a kite on the hill. 'It's a simpler life than you would think of an ex-Beatle [living],' says the musician, who felt like he was spending time with a farmer and his family, whereby the farmer's daughter, Stella, would call for 'Mr Alomar' when Mum had dinner ready. 'It's like having a regular country dinner and then going to the local pub for a brew and coming back. It's not a complicated life.' Paul seemed confident he was making a good record. Indeed, he was so proud of the project he drew diagrammatic plans for the CD booklet to help the listener identify the musicians. 'That's pretty meticulous and it requires a certain amount of dedication and commitment, ' comments Alomar. 'I've looked at a lot of his alb.u.ms and heard a lot of his music and I've never really [seen] things like that - I thought [he believed the alb.u.m] was fantastic.'

The day finally came in the spring of 1986 when work stopped. The record was finished, for better or worse. Hugh Padgham was just relieved it was all over. Up in London, Paul's manager Stephen Shrimpton was concerned that he couldn't hear a hit on Press to Play Press to Play. It may not be a coincidence that Shrimpton left MPL around this time. In April, Paul appointed Robert Mercer as his new managing director. He lasted just six weeks, leaving the company before Press to Play Press to Play was released in the September, indicating turmoil within McCartney's office. For want of anything better, Paul finally chose 'Press' as the single to launch this troublesome alb.u.m. Like so many of Paul's songs, it is catchy - with the light, electronic sound fashionable in the Eighties - but, in common with the rest of the alb.u.m, the number also sounds overworked. was released in the September, indicating turmoil within McCartney's office. For want of anything better, Paul finally chose 'Press' as the single to launch this troublesome alb.u.m. Like so many of Paul's songs, it is catchy - with the light, electronic sound fashionable in the Eighties - but, in common with the rest of the alb.u.m, the number also sounds overworked.

When he came to make the promotional video, Paul went for simplicity, taking a camera crew onto London's Underground to film him miming to 'Press' as he rode the Jubilee Line. Looking happy and relaxed in light summer clothes, the star's spontaneous interactions with the public had a natural, unforced charm that showed him at his best: shaking hands with an elderly lady, receiving a kiss from a girl, encouraging normally dour commuters to smile. At one stage a young man approached Paul on a platform. McCartney made wary eye contact, circ.u.mspect about people who came up on his blind side, even more so since John had been shot, only to realise the guy just wanted directions. Paul nodded him onto the right train with a Londoner's insouciance. After all, the capital had been Paul's home now for half his life. He knew the city as well as he did Liverpool. As he waved goodbye to his crew, and the audience, at St John's Wood station, you had to like the man.

A strong video wasn't enough to save 'Press' from bombing, while a second single, 'Only Love Remains', did even less well, Press to Play Press to Play itself selling fewer copies than any of McCartney's previous studio alb.u.ms. When Eric Stewart received a copy, he felt he knew why it had failed. Fragments of their original collaboration were audible, in songs like 'Angry' and 'Footprints', but the simplicity of the demos was buried under 18 months of overdubs, with the result that 'the alb.u.m became meaningless'. Eric wished he'd been strong enough to stand up to Paul when he'd snapped at Hugh Padgham in the studio: 'When did you write your last number one?' That was the key moment. John Lennon would have challenged Paul and resolved the problem; George Martin could have stood up to the star; but Eric had been cowed by Paul's status as a former Beatle, a legacy so enormous it inhibited both the star and those around him. 'Where do you go from there?' asks Eric rhetorically. 'What can you achieve from there?' Paul's answer, as we shall see next, was to celebrate that legacy. itself selling fewer copies than any of McCartney's previous studio alb.u.ms. When Eric Stewart received a copy, he felt he knew why it had failed. Fragments of their original collaboration were audible, in songs like 'Angry' and 'Footprints', but the simplicity of the demos was buried under 18 months of overdubs, with the result that 'the alb.u.m became meaningless'. Eric wished he'd been strong enough to stand up to Paul when he'd snapped at Hugh Padgham in the studio: 'When did you write your last number one?' That was the key moment. John Lennon would have challenged Paul and resolved the problem; George Martin could have stood up to the star; but Eric had been cowed by Paul's status as a former Beatle, a legacy so enormous it inhibited both the star and those around him. 'Where do you go from there?' asks Eric rhetorically. 'What can you achieve from there?' Paul's answer, as we shall see next, was to celebrate that legacy.

22.

THE NEXT BEST THING.

LINDA'SPEOPLE

When Press to Play Press to Play sold fewer than a million copies worldwide, poor by Paul's standards, he hired a new manager to help revive his career, choosing a straight-talking former Polydor executive named Richard Ogden, who set out a three-year plan to get Paul back in the charts and back on the road, after almost a decade in which McCartney hadn't toured. sold fewer than a million copies worldwide, poor by Paul's standards, he hired a new manager to help revive his career, choosing a straight-talking former Polydor executive named Richard Ogden, who set out a three-year plan to get Paul back in the charts and back on the road, after almost a decade in which McCartney hadn't toured.

Part of Ogden's job was managing Linda's career, too, which meant enabling Mrs McCartney to realise her pet projects, mostly to do with photography or vegetarianism, for which she had become a zealot. Having given up eating meat and fish, and wearing leather, Linda expected everybody else to do the same. She even had the temerity to ask the Duke of Edinburgh how he, as the figurehead for the World Wildlife Fund, could defend shooting birds for sport. The Duke muttered in reply that his eldest son was almost a b.l.o.o.d.y veggie.

Linda's vegetarianism was not so much to do with health as a horror of the slaughterhouse. In this regard, Linda found a like-minded friend in Pretenders singer Chrissie Hynde, another American in the British rock industry. Although the two women became close, Linda was capable of telling off even Chrissie if she felt her friend was insufficiently committed to the animal cause, as happened at a gathering of celebrities at Chrissie's London home. 'We're here because we are going to talk about what we can do for animals,' Hynde told her guests, 'because we have some influence.'

'Well, if I were you I'd start by not wearing a leather skirt,' Linda replied sharply.

It was at this gathering that Linda met the television writer Carla Lane, who became another ally in the cause of animal rights. Carla was a Liverpudlian, slightly older than Paul. She'd been to the Cavern in her youth, but was never a Beatles fan, being more interested in the beetles she could scoop up in her hands and put in her animal hospital. Carla made her name and fortune in the 1970s as the creator of the Liver Birds Liver Birds, a popular television sit-com about two young female Liverpool flat-mates, following this with the equally successful Eighties sit-com Bread Bread, about a working-cla.s.s Liverpool family. It was Carla's devotion to animals, though, rather than her Merseyside links, that endeared her to Linda, making two women who were not especially sociable close. 'We were each lonely people, really,' observes Carla, noting that although Linda was friendly with Chrissie Hynde and Twiggy, and one or two other women, she was not over-endowed with friends. Similarly, Paul didn't have many pals. 'I never saw Paul with mates. He was always surrounded by people, but he was usually in charge of them.'

Though not as rich as the McCartneys, Carla had made very good money in television, investing her wealth in an animal sanctuary at her large country home, Broadhurst Manor, 60 miles from the McCartney estate in West Suss.e.x. Broadhurst Manor was a veritable Noah's Ark of rescue animals, with Carla always grateful to Paul and Linda for taking on the care of some of her surplus stock. They had the s.p.a.ce at Blossom Farm, and already maintained a considerable menagerie of their own. The McCartneys kept approximately nine horses these days, including Linda's beloved appaloosa stallion Blankit (sired by Lucky Spot, the horse she'd brought back from Texas in 1976); there were numerous cats and dogs, including sheepdog descendants of the late Martha, who'd died in the early 1980s. They also had sheep, a herd of deer, and a pet bullock named Ferdinand that Paul had found loose in the lanes one day, having escaped from its farmer. When Paul discovered the bullock was on its way to slaughter he bought the animal and made a pet of it. The McCartneys also kept numerous small creatures, including rabbits, fish, a turtle that lived in a s.p.a.cious aquarium adjacent to Linda's kitchen, and a parrot named Sparky, which resided in an outdoor aviary, saying repeatedly, 'Ello Sparky. Come 'ere and say somethink,' mimicking the pa.s.sing farmhands.

In addition, Carla gave the McCartneys chickens, a blue-grey kitten (upon request from the children) and numerous additional deer, which she frequently found injured in lanes, having been hit by vehicles. Carla would pick the creatures up in her animal ambulance and nurse them back to health, where possible, before releasing them into the wild. On one memorably happy occasion, Carla and Linda both had rescue deer ready to release at the same time, so they arranged to meet on a track that led into the forest on Paul's Suss.e.x estate (which he expanded considerably in the Eighties, buying two adjacent farms and a 50-acre wood, created a contiguous landholding of nearly 1,000 acres - an area three times the size of London's Hyde Park).

The deer was in the back of our ambulance and Paul had one at the back of [his vehicle] and we did a one, two, three, let them go. And we watched the two deer that we'd nursed better gallop side by side the length of this lane. There were a lot of people there, staff, and Paul and Linda and I, and what a moment it was! Beautiful ... It was just one of the nice things that we used to do that n.o.body knew about.

Though she meant well, Linda's concern for animals could lead to muddled thinking. She fed her animals a vegetarian diet whenever possible, even to those creatures that were naturally carnivores. She disapproved of the more pragmatic Carla feeding dead chicks to her rescue foxes, for example, and refused to countenance the idea that when her own domestic cats slipped out of the house at night they might be hunting for rodents. 'She really was against meat being consumed by [any creature],' says Carla, who believes Linda would have found a way to feed porridge to a T. Rex if she had one in her care. Linda grudgingly accepted wild animals hunted for survival, but she and Paul were implacably opposed to people hunting for sport, becoming terribly upset if they heard a hunt riding through the area or guns going off. One time, when shooting was taking place within earshot, farmer Bob Languish met Paul storming down the lane. 'Where are those people shooting those poor little bunnies?' the musician demanded of his neighbour, who informed Paul mildly that the men were only clay-pigeon shooting.

Animals at Blossom Farm lived until they died of old age, even though some local farmers thought this cruel, pointing out that sheep wear their teeth down with grazing and can starve to death if they become very old. The McCartneys took little notice, choosing to spend whatever it cost on vets to keep their ageing animal friends alive. 'I remember they were devastated when a cow of theirs died, and they had specialists from all over the place coming to this cow. They were heartbroken,' says Carla, who admits that most people would think Linda and herself eccentric. 'We are cranks, let's face it. We don't mind being called that.' And Linda drew Paul and the children into this well-intentioned but slightly cranky way of thinking, the whole family becoming evangelical about animal rights. Slaughterhouses, hunting, vivisection and the wearing of fur were their betes noires betes noires, with the young McCartneys feeling as strongly as their parents. James McCartney got up in school and gave his fellow pupils a pa.s.sionate speech about why eating animals was wrong. 'All [of us] had in common this disbelief in what people do to animals, a complete horror of the abattoir and how anyone can be a part of it,' explains Carla, who also found time to collaborate on animal rights songs with Linda, a couple of which, 'Cow' and 'The White Coated Man', Paul helped the women record at Hog Hill Mill. 'He said, "Come on, our Carla," and he'd got all the music ready. I used to love it the way he called me "Our Carla". It was so Liverpudlian.' Unfortunately, Carla was no more a singer than Linda was.

It was the horror of animals being driven to their deaths for food that gave Linda the impetus to create a cookbook that didn't use as an ingredient 'dead animals', as she pointedly described meat; a book in which she would set down her recipes for the kind of hearty meals Paul liked and that she urged her women readers to serve to 'your man' - hardly the sort of language one would expect of a woman who'd been at the heart of the Sixties counter-culture, but there was an old-fashioned side to Linda. Away from the public stage, she played the role of a traditional post-war housewife-mother to Paul and their kids, what Paul had been looking for ever since his own mother died, and Paul and Linda seemed to think this was how other people still lived.

In order to create vegetarian versions of the traditional, meat-based meals Paul had been brought up on, Linda used Textured Vegetable Protein (TVP) products, such as Protoveg, in her versions of such English staples as Sunday roast and shepherd's pie. Linda created realistic-looking sausage rolls from soya, even a veggie steak Diane. Carla Lane couldn't understand why her friend felt the need to mimic the look and taste of meat, serving an elaborate soya turkey at Thanksgiving, for instance, and going to the expense of having 'non-meat bacon' imported from the United States so that she and Paul could snack on faux faux bacon sarnies. It didn't make sense intellectually to reject meat as part of your diet, yet eat pretend meat. 'I used to say to her, "What, you like bacon so much?" She said, "I've got to confess, Carla, I do like the taste, but you know I would never eat the real stuff."' bacon sarnies. It didn't make sense intellectually to reject meat as part of your diet, yet eat pretend meat. 'I used to say to her, "What, you like bacon so much?" She said, "I've got to confess, Carla, I do like the taste, but you know I would never eat the real stuff."'

To help Linda spread this pa.s.sionately held but confused veggie message, the McCartneys' business manager struck a publishing deal with Bloomsbury, whose office was conveniently located next door to MPL on Soho Square, with a vegetarian writer engaged to help Linda turn her veggie menus into a cookbook. For the next two years, Linda worked with Peter c.o.x on Linda McCartney's Home Cooking Linda McCartney's Home Cooking, which put her in the same business as Paul's former fiancee, Jane Asher. After breaking up with Paul in 1968, Jane had married and had a family with the artist Gerald Scarfe, still pursuing her acting, but also creating a successful second career as a celebrity cake-maker, appearing on television and publishing a series of best-selling recipe books such as Jane Asher's Party Cakes Jane Asher's Party Cakes. Now Linda also thrust herself into the cook-book business. She devised most of her recipes in her kitchen at Blossom Farm which, as she explained in her book, was the heart of the McCartney home and the place she felt happiest. 'I spend a lot of time in our kitchen. I find it the cosiest, friendliest place in the house,' she wrote in the introduction to her book. 'It's a great place to nurture a happy harmonious family and to spend time with friends, chatting over a cup of tea.' Yet one of her best friends and most frequent kitchen visitors, Carla Lane, recalls that Paul and Linda were not always a harmonious couple at home in Suss.e.x. 'They had normal quarrels,' Carla says. '[But] they were never violent. It was, "Oh, alright!" The slam of the door.'

Although Paul enjoyed the country, friends gained the impression he sometimes felt bored at Blossom Farm, hankering for the road and his old life in London, where he had been part of a community of musicians. Although Paul kept the house in Cavendish Avenue, he wasn't there much, and didn't tend to use London studios as he once had. Now that Paul owned his own recording facility at Hog Hill he had no need to be at Abbey Road Studios or AIR, where in the past he'd hang out with old friends and meet up-and-coming musicians, getting energy and ideas from what other artists were doing. Everybody who came to work at Hog Hill Mill came at Paul's invitation, resulting in a slightly stale environment.

In the summer of 1987 Paul started playing with new musicians at Hog Hill, recording demos and auditioning for a band he would ultimately take out on the road. Paul ran down favourite rock 'n' roll songs with these musicians, numbers including 'Kansas City', 'Lucille' and 'That's All Right (Mama)', which he sang with the pleasure of a middle-aged man reconnecting with his youth. His engineer recorded the sessions, and when Paul played the tapes back he decided he wanted to put them out as an alb.u.m.

Richard Ogden was concerned that the time was not right for such a record. Paul's next major release had to be a strong studio alb.u.m, one that would make up for Press to Play Press to Play. Ogden also feared an alb.u.m of rock 'n' roll covers might be reviewed critically in comparison to John Lennon's 1975 Rock 'n' Roll Rock 'n' Roll alb.u.m. When Paul insisted, Ogden had the novel idea of allowing a Russian company to release a Paul McCartney 'bootleg'. Despite being banned in the USSR during the Cold War, the Beatles' music had been and remained hugely popular behind the Iron Curtain, with Soviet fans trading bootleg recordings of their songs. With the rise of the reformist Soviet leader, Mikhail Gorbachev, it was becoming easier to get genuine Western records in the USSR, and it seemed a fun idea to allow a Russian label to sell an apparently pirated McCartney record in traditional Soviet style. EMI licensed the Russian label Melodya to manufacture 400,000 copies of Paul's rock 'n' roll LP, guessing they would print more and that fans who wanted it in the West could buy Soviet imports, which is what happened when alb.u.m. When Paul insisted, Ogden had the novel idea of allowing a Russian company to release a Paul McCartney 'bootleg'. Despite being banned in the USSR during the Cold War, the Beatles' music had been and remained hugely popular behind the Iron Curtain, with Soviet fans trading bootleg recordings of their songs. With the rise of the reformist Soviet leader, Mikhail Gorbachev, it was becoming easier to get genuine Western records in the USSR, and it seemed a fun idea to allow a Russian label to sell an apparently pirated McCartney record in traditional Soviet style. EMI licensed the Russian label Melodya to manufacture 400,000 copies of Paul's rock 'n' roll LP, guessing they would print more and that fans who wanted it in the West could buy Soviet imports, which is what happened when CHOBA B CCCP CHOBA B CCCP (Russian for 'Again in the USSR'), was released the following year. (Russian for 'Again in the USSR'), was released the following year.

Around the same time, the star agreed that EMI should issue a new 'best-of' LP. Although covering some of the same ground as Wings Greatest Wings Greatest, released in 1978, Paul McCartney: All the Best Paul McCartney: All the Best sold strongly in the build-up to Christmas 1987, with Paul appearing on British chat shows to promote it. It was on occasions like this that the Wings Fun Club and sold strongly in the build-up to Christmas 1987, with Paul appearing on British chat shows to promote it. It was on occasions like this that the Wings Fun Club and Club Sandwich Club Sandwich magazine came into their own, Paul's fan club secretary mobilising members to pack TV show audiences just as Brian Epstein used to do. As a result, Paul got a rousing reception when he walked out on stage at the magazine came into their own, Paul's fan club secretary mobilising members to pack TV show audiences just as Brian Epstein used to do. As a result, Paul got a rousing reception when he walked out on stage at the Wogan Wogan show, the show, the Roxy Roxy, and Jonathan Ross's Last Resort Last Resort, three programmes he graced that winter. With typical professionalism, McCartney invited the Last Resort Last Resort house band down to Suss.e.x to rehea.r.s.e with him in advance of the Ross show, giving the boys a guided tour of his Beatles museum. Band leader Steve Nieve introduced Paul briefly to his wife Muriel. The couple were impressed a few years later when they ran into Paul again and he immediately greeted Muriel by name, demonstrating a phenomenal memory. 'I've seen him do this many times,' says Nieve. 'He has this ability to put people so at ease around him - remarkable how he keeps names and faces.' house band down to Suss.e.x to rehea.r.s.e with him in advance of the Ross show, giving the boys a guided tour of his Beatles museum. Band leader Steve Nieve introduced Paul briefly to his wife Muriel. The couple were impressed a few years later when they ran into Paul again and he immediately greeted Muriel by name, demonstrating a phenomenal memory. 'I've seen him do this many times,' says Nieve. 'He has this ability to put people so at ease around him - remarkable how he keeps names and faces.'

Going round the TV studios helped All the Best All the Best turn double platinum, a success tempered by the death in December of Paul's beloved Aunt Ginny. She died of heart failure at 77. Ginny had been among the last of Jim McCartney's siblings. Only brother Joe and his wife Joan were left now from that generation, enjoying a comfortable old age thanks to the McCartney Pension. 'Paul was looking after everybody, he always has done. But always very quiet, you see. That's why I get b.l.o.o.d.y mad when I hear people say, "Er, he's got all that money, you'd think he'd do so and so,"' says family member Mike Robbins. 'He's been giving money to charity quietly, and looking after people quietly, for many, many years.' Several relatives had received substantial cash amounts, with Paul helping relations buy homes, but the more he gave the more some of them wanted. 'They did used to moan at Christmas,' reveals Paul's record plugger and MPL gofer Joe Reddington. '[They'd] phone Alan Crowder up, "What's the present this year? Oh Christ, haven't you got anything better?" ... Just unbelievable, these people.' turn double platinum, a success tempered by the death in December of Paul's beloved Aunt Ginny. She died of heart failure at 77. Ginny had been among the last of Jim McCartney's siblings. Only brother Joe and his wife Joan were left now from that generation, enjoying a comfortable old age thanks to the McCartney Pension. 'Paul was looking after everybody, he always has done. But always very quiet, you see. That's why I get b.l.o.o.d.y mad when I hear people say, "Er, he's got all that money, you'd think he'd do so and so,"' says family member Mike Robbins. 'He's been giving money to charity quietly, and looking after people quietly, for many, many years.' Several relatives had received substantial cash amounts, with Paul helping relations buy homes, but the more he gave the more some of them wanted. 'They did used to moan at Christmas,' reveals Paul's record plugger and MPL gofer Joe Reddington. '[They'd] phone Alan Crowder up, "What's the present this year? Oh Christ, haven't you got anything better?" ... Just unbelievable, these people.'

While he might write five-figure cheques for relations, and he had given Linda some high-price jewellery over the years, Paul usually bought inexpensive gifts for the family at Christmas, typically popping into Hamley's on Regent Street - a short walk from his office - to get the kids the colouring pencils they liked. Recalls Joe Reddington: I remember one year we are standing in the queue [at Hamley's] and I'm standing behind Paul, and this guy behind me, he was an American, he said, 'Excuse me, who's that in front of you? That's not Paul McCartney, is it?' 'I don't know actually,' and then Paul turned round and said, 'Yes it is,' and he signed all this stuff this guy was getting for his kids to take back to America.

NEW BEGINNINGS.

After the twin flops of Give My Regards to Broad Street Give My Regards to Broad Street and and Press to Play Press to Play Paul needed what was in effect a comeback record to remain an active headline star into the 1990s. He wasn't prepared to step off the merry-go-round as John Lennon had done. To help Paul achieve his ambitions, MPL got the star together with Elvis Costello, a talented singer-songwriter with whom Paul could write, sing and record, also a young man - Elvis turned 33 in 1988 - of strong character whom everybody hoped would be able to stand up to Paul in the studio, pushing him to do better than his usual 'I love you Linda' material. Paul needed what was in effect a comeback record to remain an active headline star into the 1990s. He wasn't prepared to step off the merry-go-round as John Lennon had done. To help Paul achieve his ambitions, MPL got the star together with Elvis Costello, a talented singer-songwriter with whom Paul could write, sing and record, also a young man - Elvis turned 33 in 1988 - of strong character whom everybody hoped would be able to stand up to Paul in the studio, pushing him to do better than his usual 'I love you Linda' material.

Costello found McCartney a disciplined, regimented writer. Elvis tended to write his lyrics first, then make the music fit.

If the words demanded it, I wouldn't develop the melodic line, I'd just add a couple of bars. He [Paul] thought that sounded messy. He likes logic in the lyrics, too. I might throw in ambiguous things, because I like the effect that has on the imagination. But he doesn't like anyone to walk into the song with green shoes on, unless they were wearing them in the first verse.

To record these new songs, the basis of the alb.u.m Flowers in the Dirt Flowers in the Dirt, Paul a.s.sembled a band around the Scots guitarist Hamish Stuart, 38-year-old founder of the Average White Band, whose life was changed by hearing the Beatles' 'From Me to You' as a boy. 'It was the moment for me when things went from black and white to colour. It's amazing the number of people who describe it that way.'

Although the original idea was that Elvis Costello would co-write and co-produce Flowers in the Dirt Flowers in the Dirt, the old problems soon re-emerged. Paul wanted to do things his way, and Elvis was pulling in a different direction. 'It was pretty obvious pretty quickly that it wasn't going to work as a co-production, so things changed and it moved on and some stuff got discarded,' comments Hamish Stuart. 'They were kind of banging heads a little bit. Elvis had one way of working, and Paul was more about embracing technology at that time and it just didn't work, so Elvis kind of left the building.' The Costello sessions yielded several alb.u.m tracks, though, including the poppy 'My Brave Face' and 'You Want Her Too', sung as a duet in the way Paul harmonised with John on 'Getting Better', McCartney's sweet voice undercut by Costello's caustic interjections.

The drummer in Paul's new band was Chris Whitten, who'd also worked on the CHOBA B CCCP CHOBA B CCCP sessions. Enlarging the group, Paul hired guitarist Robbie McIntosh from the Pretenders. These three musicians helped Paul complete sessions. Enlarging the group, Paul hired guitarist Robbie McIntosh from the Pretenders. These three musicians helped Paul complete Flowers in the Dirt Flowers in the Dirt and formed the basis of his new road band, adding 32-year-old keyboard player Paul 'Wix' Wickens, whom Paul and Linda were encouraged to learn was 'almost a veggie'. Increasingly, the McCartneys had little time for anybody who wasn't vegetarian. Paul was paying good wages, the new band members getting 1,000 a week as a retainer ($1,530), 3,000 a week ($4,590) for when they were rehearsing and recording, rising to 5,000 a week ($7,650) on the road, generous by industry standards. Paul had learned the lesson of Wings. He made it clear that he'd been hurt by the stories Denny Laine sold to the and formed the basis of his new road band, adding 32-year-old keyboard player Paul 'Wix' Wickens, whom Paul and Linda were encouraged to learn was 'almost a veggie'. Increasingly, the McCartneys had little time for anybody who wasn't vegetarian. Paul was paying good wages, the new band members getting 1,000 a week as a retainer ($1,530), 3,000 a week ($4,590) for when they were rehearsing and recording, rising to 5,000 a week ($7,650) on the road, generous by industry standards. Paul had learned the lesson of Wings. He made it clear that he'd been hurt by the stories Denny Laine sold to the Sun Sun after the old band broke up, and wouldn't appreciate it if anybody in the new group did anything like that. after the old band broke up, and wouldn't appreciate it if anybody in the new group did anything like that.

Meanwhile, Paul's other, more famous former band was about to be inducted into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame, an inst.i.tution co-founded in 1983 by Rolling Stone Rolling Stone publisher Jann Wenner that had already gained prestige in the music community. Stars were falling over themselves to be inducted into the Hall of Fame at the annual ceremony in New York, and it was expected that Paul would join George, Ringo and Yoko at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel on 20 January 1988, when the Beatles' fellow inductees would include the Beach Boys and Bob Dylan, who counted among Paul's musical heroes. But Paul didn't show. He boycotted the event because George, Ritchie and Yoko were suing him over a deal the Eastmans had struck when he signed back with Capitol Records after a brief spell with CBS, winning him an extra per cent royalty on the Beatles' back catalogue. When the other three found out Paul was getting more than them they demanded parity, the dispute settled when Capitol gave all four partners an extra per cent on CDs, which were replacing vinyl. As of January 1988, however, the Beatles partners were in deadlock over the issue. publisher Jann Wenner that had already gained prestige in the music community. Stars were falling over themselves to be inducted into the Hall of Fame at the annual ceremony in New York, and it was expected that Paul would join George, Ringo and Yoko at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel on 20 January 1988, when the Beatles' fellow inductees would include the Beach Boys and Bob Dylan, who counted among Paul's musical heroes. But Paul didn't show. He boycotted the event because George, Ritchie and Yoko were suing him over a deal the Eastmans had struck when he signed back with Capitol Records after a brief spell with CBS, winning him an extra per cent royalty on the Beatles' back catalogue. When the other three found out Paul was getting more than them they demanded parity, the dispute settled when Capitol gave all four partners an extra per cent on CDs, which were replacing vinyl. As of January 1988, however, the Beatles partners were in deadlock over the issue.

Paul had his publicist release a statement explaining his absence from the Hall of Fame function: 'After 20 years, the Beatles still have some business differences which I had hoped would have been settled by now. Unfortunately, they haven't been, so I would feel like a complete hypocrite waving and smiling with them at a fake reunion.' After Mick Jagger introduced the Beatles at the Waldorf-Astoria, it fell to George Harrison to say how honoured the band felt to be inducted into the Hall of Fame, joking, 'I don't have too much to say because I'm the quiet Beatle.' Then it was Yoko's turn to speak.

Despite not attending the dinner, Paul and Linda had a keen interest in events in New York and early the next day Linda called her friend Danny Fields at his Manhattan apartment to ask what had happened. Danny, who'd helped discover Iggy Pop and managed the Ramones during his career, aside from his work as a journalist, had a seat on the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame nominating committee. 'Did you go last night?' Linda asked her friend, calling from her country kitchen at Blossom Farm.

'Yeah. You would have had such a good time,' Danny drawled in his camp manner, 'you would have heard Yoko's speech.'

Knowing the McCartneys would want to hear what Yoko said, Danny had recorded her speech, and he had his tape machine cued up in antic.i.p.ation of Linda's call. He asked coolly whether she and Paul would care to listen to what Yoko said, and heard Linda telling Paul to pick up the extension. 'He picks up the phone and I press the tape.' All three listened as Yoko told the Waldorf that if her her husband had been alive, he would have attended the induction, which was as neat a put-down of the McCartneys as she'd ever made. Danny listened for a reaction. 'Paul said, "f.u.c.king c.u.n.t, makes me want to puke."' husband had been alive, he would have attended the induction, which was as neat a put-down of the McCartneys as she'd ever made. Danny listened for a reaction. 'Paul said, "f.u.c.king c.u.n.t, makes me want to puke."'

Paul continued working on Flowers in the Dirt Flowers in the Dirt at Hog Hill Mill throughout that summer, taking a break in August to visit Liverpool, where he was shocked to discover his old school had fallen into dereliction. Despite its long and ill.u.s.trious history, the Liverpool Inst.i.tute had been closed in 1985 by Liverpool City Council, when the council was under the sway of the militant socialist Derek Hatton, who was himself an old boy. The closure was not so much to do with Hatton's socialist principles as with Liverpool's declining population. Apparently there weren't enough clever boys in the shrinking city to fill such an elite school. Four years on from its closure, Paul was dismayed to see that the Inny had become a ruin. The roof was letting in so much rain the cla.s.srooms were flooded and rats scurried along corridors that had once resounded to cries of 'Walk, don't run!' Paul had a film made of himself on a nostalgic tour of this sad old place, later released as the doc.u.mentary at Hog Hill Mill throughout that summer, taking a break in August to visit Liverpool, where he was shocked to discover his old school had fallen into dereliction. Despite its long and ill.u.s.trious history, the Liverpool Inst.i.tute had been closed in 1985 by Liverpool City Council, when the council was under the sway of the militant socialist Derek Hatton, who was himself an old boy. The closure was not so much to do with Hatton's socialist principles as with Liverpool's declining population. Apparently there weren't enough clever boys in the shrinking city to fill such an elite school. Four years on from its closure, Paul was dismayed to see that the Inny had become a ruin. The roof was letting in so much rain the cla.s.srooms were flooded and rats scurried along corridors that had once resounded to cries of 'Walk, don't run!' Paul had a film made of himself on a nostalgic tour of this sad old place, later released as the doc.u.mentary Echoes Echoes, during which he remembered himself and cheeky school mates and eccentric masters in happier times. Privately, he ruminated on how he might rescue the school.

Since the Toxteth riots, Paul had been looking for a way to give something back to Liverpool. Following his visit to the Inny he decided the school should be the focus for his philanthropy. But what was one to do with the place? Initially, McCartney thought he might simply put a new roof on the Inst.i.tute, to save it from total ruin, but as he looked into the problem more deeply he saw that the only way to save the building in the longer term was to give it a use and, because of its history, that had to be an educational one.

George Martin, one of the few people in whom Paul placed unswerving trust, mentioned that he'd been helping an entrepreneur named Mark Featherstone-Witty raise money for a school for performing arts in London, based on the New York School of the Performing Arts depicted in the movie Fame Fame. A Fame Fame school for Liverpool might be a use for the Inny. Paul was circ.u.mspect. Traditionally, show business is an industry where people learn by experience. He hadn't gone to a school for performing arts. The idea was anathema, rock 'n' roll being about self-expression and rebellion. George Martin, a graduate of the Guildhall School of Music, took a different view. He believed there was a place for a formal musical education, and a need to teach young people the essentials of the music business - if future Lennons and McCartneys weren't to be ripped off, as Paul felt he'd been with Northern Songs. Sensible George went some way to persuade Paul that a school for Liverpool might be a use for the Inny. Paul was circ.u.mspect. Traditionally, show business is an industry where people learn by experience. He hadn't gone to a school for performing arts. The idea was anathema, rock 'n' roll being about self-expression and rebellion. George Martin, a graduate of the Guildhall School of Music, took a different view. He believed there was a place for a formal musical education, and a need to teach young people the essentials of the music business - if future Lennons and McCartneys weren't to be ripped off, as Paul felt he'd been with Northern Songs. Sensible George went some way to persuade Paul that a Fame Fame-type school for Liverpool was therefore a worthwhile project. McCartney's primary motivation remained saving the Inny, though, and, canny as ever with money, he didn't propose to buy the place. The hope was that Liverpool City Council, and the charitable trust in which the building was held, would give the premises to Paul if he devised a regeneration plan.

In April 1989, Paul wrote an open letter to the Liverpool Echo Liverpool Echo asking his fellow Merseysiders if they wanted a asking his fellow Merseysiders if they wanted a Fame Fame school: 'I got a great start in life courtesy of Liverpool Inst.i.tute and would love to see other local people being given the same chance.' Readers phoned in 1,745 votes in favour, 48 against. The following month, Paul invited George Martin's friend to MPL to talk about beginning the process. school: 'I got a great start in life courtesy of Liverpool Inst.i.tute and would love to see other local people being given the same chance.' Readers phoned in 1,745 votes in favour, 48 against. The following month, Paul invited George Martin's friend to MPL to talk about beginning the process.

Mark Featherstone-Witty proved to be an ebullient, jokey fellow of 42, with a theatrical and slightly posh manner (Paul worried that his double-barrelled name would raise hackles on Merseyside) and a varied CV ranging from acting to journalism to teaching, the last of which led him to create a number of private educational inst.i.tutions. 'Then the key moment occurred, the key moment the key moment, whereas I was sitting in the Empire Leicester Square and saw Alan Parker's film Fame Fame, and I thought, "That's what I'm going to do next."' In emulation of what he had seen at the pictures that day in 1980, Featherstone-Witty worked to create the British Record Industry Trust (BRIT) School in Croydon, which was established with the help of George Martin and others. Now he wanted a new project.

Although Mark had met many famous people working on the BRIT School, when Paul walked through the door at MPL the entrepreneur was overwhelmed.

You are trying to carry on a reasonable conversation, but one half of your mind is saying, I don't b.l.o.o.d.y believe it. I just don't believe it. I'm actually talking to Paul McCartney! I don't b.l.o.o.d.y believe it. I just don't believe it. I'm actually talking to Paul McCartney! Over years of course that's completely gone, but at the time I was just amazed ... I've seen the same reaction with other people. Over years of course that's completely gone, but at the time I was just amazed ... I've seen the same reaction with other people.

Despite Mark's being star-struck, the meeting went well. It was agreed that the entrepreneur would approach Liverpool City Council with Paul's backing to see if it was feasible to turn the Inny into what Paul wanted to call the Liverpool Inst.i.tute for Performing Arts (LIPA). To show he was serious, Paul pledged 1 million ($1.53m) of his own money, but, shrewd as ever, he didn't hand it over all at once. He advanced Featherstone-Witty small sums initially. 'It was 30,000 [$45,900]. Let's see what you can do with it Let's see what you can do with it. So it was to some extent payment by achievement really. Also the payment needed to be matched with a payment, not simply from him, but from other people. He was never going to be the sole funder.' Still, having started the process, Paul committed himself to a project that would take up a lot of his time, and require much more of his money, over the next few years, while Mark discovered that the charming superstar he met on day one could also be 'a right b.a.s.t.a.r.d'.

BACK ON THE ROAD.

The first single from Flowers in the Dirt Flowers in the Dirt was released in May 1989, the catchy but unfulfilling 'My Brave Face'. Though it wasn't a hit, the LP was greeted as a return to form featuring several strong songs such as 'Rough Ride' and 'We Got Married', which seemed to doc.u.ment Paul's early relationship with Linda, was released in May 1989, the catchy but unfulfilling 'My Brave Face'. Though it wasn't a hit, the LP was greeted as a return to form featuring several strong songs such as 'Rough Ride' and 'We Got Married', which seemed to doc.u.ment Paul's early relationship with Linda, vis-a-vis vis-a-vis John and Yoko, 'the other team'. The LP went to number one in the UK, with Paul appearing on TV shows to promote it prior to his first tour since 1979. John and Yoko, 'the other team'. The LP went to number one in the UK, with Paul appearing on TV shows to promote it prior to his first tour since 1979.

Ticket prices were to be modest. Paul was less interested in enlarging his fortune than in playing to as many people as possible, partly because he and Lin wanted to use the concerts to proselytise vegetarianism and ecology. The tour schedule was arranged to coincide with the publication of Linda's new vegetarian cookbook, with the 81-strong tour party served a meat-free diet backstage. Remarkably, audiences front of house wouldn't be able to buy meaty snacks, not even hot dogs at Madison Square Garden. MPL banned such concessions, licensing instead the sale of veggie burgers. To accompany the tour, MPL commissioned a 100-page programme that included information about acid rain and deforestation, and exhortations to turn veggie. Unusually, the programme was given away free.

Alongside didactic articles about vegetarianism in the tour programme, Paul took the opportunity to tell his audiences his life story. A series of long interview features saw him correcting what he viewed as misinterpretations about the Beatles' history. He made the point strongly that he he, rather than John, was the Beatle most into the avant-garde in the Sixties. Paul was checking out the new music and meeting new writers along with his friend Barry Miles, 'when [John] was living out in the suburbs by the golf club with Cynthia'. This was a foretaste of an authorised, putting-the-record straight biography Paul had started work on with Miles, who'd become a biographer of distinction in recent years, writing lives of his friend Allen Ginsberg and other counter-culture figures. Miles had come up with the idea of the book, Paul McCartney: Many Years from Now Paul McCartney: Many Years from Now, agreeing to let Paul vet the ma.n.u.script and, perhaps surprisingly, retain 75 per cent of the royalties, meaning it was really going to be Paul's book.

Other old friends found themselves back in Paul's...o...b..t as the world tour kicked off. Richard Lester had been hired to make a montage film introduction to the concerts, and to direct a full-length concert feature, the pedestrian Get Back Get Back. Linda's artist friend Brian Clarke was commissioned to create the stage set, as he had the Flowers in the Dirt Flowers in the Dirt alb.u.m cover. To publicise the tour, Paul hired a significant new a.s.sociate, a likeable former tabloid newspaper journalist named Geoff Baker, whose qualifications for the job included boundless enthusiasm for Paul's music, as well as sharing Paul and Linda's fondness for dope and their zeal for vegetarianism. alb.u.m cover. To publicise the tour, Paul hired a significant new a.s.sociate, a likeable former tabloid newspaper journalist named Geoff Baker, whose qualifications for the job included boundless enthusiasm for Paul's music, as well as sharing Paul and Linda's fondness for dope and their zeal for vegetarianism.

Richard Ogden asked Paul what songs he was going to play on stage, urging him to perform his greatest hits, which meant Beatles songs as well as the likes of 'Live and Let Die'. Up until now, Paul had never performed more than a handful of Beatles' numbers in concert, but feeling the need to come back strongly after ten years away from the stage he drew up a set list that featured 14 Beatles tunes, approximately half the show. He had to learn to play many live for the first time, the Beatles never having performed them on stage, though paradoxically his sidemen had in other bands, Beatles songs having become common to all musicians. As Hamish Stuart observes, 'some of them we knew better than Paul did'.

After warm-up shows in London and New York, the tour opened in Oslo on 26 September 1989, the first of a run of E