Paul McCartney has been having himself quite a productive streak these last dozen or so years. Starting with 1997's wonderful Flaming Pie (on which he reasserted himself as one of pop music's pre-eminent tune-smiths).
A couple of years later, he released Run Devil Run, a raucous collection of covers from the 1950s (which had Pink Floyd guitarist David Gilmour, and Deep Purple drummer Ian Paice onboard for the fun). The album also included three McCartney originals that showed he was still able to let loose and howl with the best of them.
2001 saw the release of Driving Rain, which received mixed reviews, but clearly showed that Paul was still willing to try new things. And even if not a perfect album, it was still head-and-shoulders above most of his early '80s to mid '90s output (those were the wilderness years, for most fans).
Nobody was quite prepared for 2005's Chaos and Creation in the Backyard. Its understated elegance made it too easy for some (including me, I'm ashamed to admit) to overlook what a masterfully subdued meditation on doubt, loss, and mortality it is. There is great beauty to be found in the tracks – and many subtle, yet powerful, musical moments that reveal themselves almost shyly to those who take the time to listen. In some ways, it's an unusually sober record – revealing a vulnerable side that the usually guarded McCartney rarely lets us see – but it makes for a moving listening experience.
Whereas Chaos and Creation... was mostly comprised of understated songs, 2007's Memory Almost Full was just the opposite. Here Paul unleashed the full force of his considerable talent, and it's quite an adventure – and truly a feast for the ears. It's like the flip-side of a coin with the previous album: rocking, upbeat, epic (even grandiose) at times.
Amongst the aforementioned releases, Paul also found time to release a couple more classical albums. He also started collaborating with producer/musician Youth on some experimental ambient instrumental music, which they released under the moniker The Fireman. And though 1994's Strawberries Oceans Ships Forest was somewhat repetitious (mostly variations on the same theme) – 1998's Rushes proved to be much more interesting, musically. But neither release could have prepared listeners for 2008's Electric Arguments.
Each of the 13 songs on Electric Arguments was written and recorded in a single day (though the 13 days were not consecutive), which gives them a looseness and energy that is invigorating. It's also the first Fireman album to feature lyrics – most of them ad-libbed, stream of consciousness verses and phrases. Like a kid who will take more risks when he puts on a costume, The Fireman project allows Paul to give free rein to his creative impulses. He and Youth can just let loose and do whatever feels musically right, without any pressure for it to be a big seller.
This is definitely an album to be listened to through a good set of speakers – or better yet, headphones (not earphones, HEADPHONES!). There are so many layers and textures to the music that a little pair of earphones just wouldn't do it justice. And Paul lays down some great bass playing, proving he hasn't lost his mojo (he plays most of the instruments, with Youth handling samples, loops, and other electronica).
Stylistically, the songs are very diverse. From straightforward blues, to acoustic folk, to hard rock, to soaring pop, to techno-trance, to ambient psychedelic, yet it all fits together seamlessly. Some songs are instantly accessible, while a few are what used to be called “deep album cuts” (they may require a little extra effort, but are more than worth it). There is a kind of progression to the album, with the more experimental tracks stacked towards the end (perhaps to ease the potentially less adventurous listener into the experience).
“Nothing Too Much Just Out Of Sight” serves notice, right out of the gate, that this Fireman album will be a much more assertive creature than its elder siblings. It kicks things off (literally) with some raucous foot-stomping howling blues, that feature Paul at his most guttural. Maybe it's all the pent-up feelings from his divorce finally being vented, but the man absolutely tears it up. Harmonica, muscular basslines, gritty slide guitar – you work up a sweat just listening to it.
“Two Magpies” is an abrupt (but by no means unpleasant) change of pace. Finger-picking an acoustic guitar, the chord changes have a lazy, jazzy feel, as Paul sings in a whimsical voice about watching two birds at play, and of coming away from it with a resolve to “face down fear”. It's a short, pleasant song that sounds like Paul could be singing it sitting in your living room.
“Sing The Changes” has an intro that reminds me a little of something Brian Wilson might have done, then kicks in with an irresistible, swirling, echoing, (even Spector-esque) wall of sound that brings a smile to my face every time I hear it. I don't know how anyone could fail to get caught up in this musical celebration. Paul sings the same verse or two over and over – but, rather than feeling repetitious, it just adds to the building sense of “child-like wonder” the song mentions.
“Traveling Light” is moody piece that makes you feel like you're moving. It's like when you're on a long trip, and as the evening approaches you get in that contemplative frame of mind, and just sit staring out the window, taking it all in. This song feels like that. It features a flute Mellotron that gives it a dreamy feel. And Paul sings the first verses in a deep, almost detached or meditative voice. There is a haunting quality to the arrangement and Paul's backing vocals. And just when it seems to be winding down, a steel guitar glides in to pick it up and carry it around for another verse or two.
“Highway” breaks the reverie of the previous song, with a heavy beat and a fat sinewy bassline. And, like the album opener, it also features some prominent harmonica, but with a lot more going on around it. There's a gritty quality to this one, too – like something one might encounter just off the highway, in a long forgotten small town or truck stop. It builds and builds, until it sounds almost tribal, with it's gang chorus and throbbing beat. Towards the end of the song, it sounds celebratory and threatening at the same time – then finishes with Paul breathlessly blowing the song's refrain on the harmonica (like he's been using it to keep the shadows at bay).
“Light From Your Lighthouse”... Southern gospel? That's what it sounds like (and, after that last song, it seems only natural). This would feel right a home in a lot of churches in the deep South. Paul accompanies himself, singing low and high vocals. Very straightforward. Very catchy. At 2:31, it's just a quick inspiring little pick-me-up.
The second half of the album (side two, anyone?) is where it starts to get a little more experimental – but first, a couple of pop gems prepare one for the journey.
“Sun Is Shining” starts with some heavily reverbed picking that (like the intro to “Sing the Changes”) makes me think of Brian Wilson. Once the song gets going, it's catches/sweeps you up and dares you not to sing and dance along. It's 5m 11s, but it never seems that long. You just get swept up in the flow, and lose track of the time. Wonderfully melodic basslines in this one. The instruments all seem to weave together to create a quilt of sound to lie on while the “Sun Is Shining”.
“Dance 'Til We're High” is another big, uplifting, joyful celebration of a song (and there's that wall of sound, again). Melodic, moving, irresistible. I can picture this being played in some big cathedral (the chimes and orchestration give it a majestic quality). It's a shame these songs didn't get played on the radio. Paul sounds like he's having a lot of fun on this album. And the rapturous exuberance of songs like this one remind me why I fell in love with music in the first place.
“Lifelong Passion (Sail Away)” has a middle-eastern vibe to it. It makes you feel like you're somewhere exotic. And, like a lot of the songs on Electric Arguments, it seems something spiritual is being hinted at here. It's vague, but unmistakeable, presence gives some of the songs a sense of longing. It reminds me of how I often felt before I became a Christian – like a deep longing for something vividly undefined – so I appreciate the sentiments of those still searching. (Whether Paul is still genuinely searching, or just reflecting the search of others, I guess only God knows.)
“Is This Love?” builds slowly, from just a wooden flute, into a dreamy ethereal soundscape that one just floats away on. Very meditative. Kind of reminds me of something the Moody Blues might have done back in their heyday (even down to the haunting falsetto, à la John Lodge).
“Lovers In A Dream” starts with an effects laden cello that sounds like humpback whales singing, the music evolves into a pulsing beat which is wrapped in a mélange of swirling instrumentation that ebbs and flows, rises and falls, almost hypnotically, buoying the repeating refrain of “Lovers in a dream / Warmer than the sun”. I guess this one is the closest to the kind of techno-trance music that Youth is better known for – but it also brings to mind some of Pink Floyd's early, more experimental, work.
“Universal Here, Everlasting Now” begins slowly, with a melancholy piano playing, dogs barking, birds singing, voices whispering, electronic swirls and echoes, until an insistent beat propels an acoustic guitar being picked, some ad-libbed vocals, all dancing along with a discreet playfulness, then back to the melancholy piano. I doesn't sound like much, but it works. It's kind of got a hypnotic, contemplative quality, as if inviting the listener to see the extraordinary in the ordinary things around us, and to be ready for life to surprise us when least expected.
“Don't Stop Running”... “Silent lovers / Silent lovers / Angels smiling / Don't stop running” is the repeated refrain as the music slowly builds till it gallops along with a mildly psychedelic vibe. Even the songs that are basically repeating a refrain manage to avoid sounding repetitious by introducing different sounds, effects, or vocals each time around.
There are 2½ minutes of ambient music that occurs after a few minutes of silence at the end of “Don't Stop Running”. It's not unpleasant, but I'm not sure it qualifies as a song. It's mostly echoing electronic noises over a bed of droning Mellotron (I could hear it as the outro on a new Moody Blues album, if they were still making interesting albums).
I love this album. It's nice to see that, even as he approaches 70, Paul is still inspired to explore new musical territory. He seems to enjoy making music with Youth, so here's hoping it's not another 10 years until the next Fireman album comes along.
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