As part of the heavy promotion for his 2007 album Memory Almost Full, Paul McCartney played an intimate set at Amoeba Records' Hollywood branch -- well, as intimate as a jam-packed set at a cavernous two-story store could possibly be. Ex-Beatles always tend to cause a commotion and this event was no exception, with fans waiting outside for days to get a spot for the June 27 concert -- a day that just happened to coincide with Paris Hilton's first post-jail interview with Larry King at CNN's L.A. studios, thereby making the corner of Cahuenga and Sunset the epicenter of pop culture for a brief moment in addition to being sheer traffic hell for Los Angelinos thinking they might get a chance to rub elbows with Ringo in the audience. For those who weren't lucky or patient enough to get inside -- or happened to not live in L.A. -- the show was excerpted, not released in full, as the four-song EP Amoeba's Secret in 2009. Sadly, this is just a taste of the full 20-song set, but it's a good one, containing two songs from Memory (the best being "That Was Me," sounding randy and funny in a way it wasn't on LP), a giddy run through "C Moon," and an energetic closer of "I Saw Her Standing There." It's a little of everything from Sir Paul, all of it good, all enough to make you wish you were there, or at least that the whole thing came out on CD. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
Allusion to the digital world though it may be, there's a sweet, elegiac undercurrent to the title of Paul McCartney's Memory Almost Full, an acknowledgement that it was written and recorded when McCartney was 64, the age he mythologized on Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, released almost exactly 40 years before Memory. Certainly, McCartney has mortality on the mind, but this isn't an entirely unusual occurrence for him in this third act of his solo career. Ever since his wife Linda's death from cancer in 1998, he's been dancing around the subject, peppering Flaming Pie with longing looks back, grieving by throwing himself into the past on the covers album Run Devil Run, slowly coming to terms with his status as the old guard on the carefully ruminative Chaos and Creation in the Backyard. But if that previous record was precise, bearing all the hallmarks of meticulous producer Nigel Godrich, Memory Almost Full is startlingly bright and frequently lively, an album that embraces McCartney's unerring gift for melody. Yet for as pop as it is, this is not an album made with any illusion that Paul will soon have a succession of hit singles: it's an art-pop album, not unlike either of the McCartney albums. Sometimes this is reflected in the construction --- the quick succession of short songs at the end, uncannily (and quite deliberately) sounding like a suite -- sometimes in the lyrics, but the remarkable thing is that McCartney never sounds self-consciously pretentious here, as if he's striving to make a major statement. Rather, he's quietly taking stock of his life and loves, his work and achievements. Unlike latter-day efforts by Johnny Cash or the murky Daniel Lanois-produced albums by Bob Dylan, mortality haunts the album, but there's no fetishization of death. Instead, McCartney marvels at his life -- explicitly so in the disarmingly guileless "That Was Me," where he enthuses about his role in a stage play in grammar school with the same vigor as he boasts about playing the Cavern Club with the Beatles -- and realizes that when he reaches "The End of the End," he doesn't want anything more than the fond old stories of his life to be told. This matter-of-fact acknowledgement that he's in the last act of his life hangs over this album, but his penchant for nostalgia -- this is the man who wrote the sepia-toned music hall shuffle "Your Mother Should Know" before he was 30, after all -- has lost its rose-tinted streak. Where he once romanticized days gone by, McCartney now admits that we're merely living with "The Ever Present Past," just like how although we live in the present, we still wear "Vintage Clothes." He's no longer pining for the past, since he knows where the present is heading, yet he seems disarmingly grateful for where his journey has taken him and what it has meant for him, to the extent that he slings no arrows at his second wife, Heather Mills, he only offers her "Gratitude." Given the nastiness of the coverage of his recent divorce, Paul might be spinning his eternal optimism a bit hard on this song, but it isn't forced or saccharine -- it fits alongside the clear-eyed sentiment of the rest of Memory Almost Full. It rings true to the open-heartedness of his music, and the album delivers some of McCartney's best latter-day music. Memory Almost Full is so melodic and memorable, it's easy to take for granted his skill as a craftsman, particularly here when it feels so natural and unforced, even when it takes left turns, which it thankfully does more than once. Best of all, this is the rare pop meditation on mortality that doesn't present itself as a major statement, yet it is thematically and musically coherent, slowly working its way under your skin and lodging its way into your cluttered memory. On the surface, it's bright and accessible, as easy to enjoy as the best of Paul's solo albums, but it lingers in the heart and mind in a way uncommon to the rest of his work, and to many other latter-day albums from his peers as well. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
Ecce Cor Meum ("Behold My Heart" in Latin) is Paul McCartney's fourth album of classical music and his second oratorio, following Liverpool Oratorio of 1991. Like that piece, it was commissioned, in this case by Anthony Smith, then president of Magdalen College at Oxford University, who was looking for a work to christen a new concert hall. As so often happens with commissions, the composition took much longer than intended, eight years, in fact, with work interrupted for other projects and by McCartney's tumultuous personal life, which included the death of his first wife, Linda McCartney, and his meeting, marrying, and separating from his second. According to producer John Fraser, as quoted by annotator Peter Quantrill, it was the earlier event that most affected the work: "The loss of Linda is suffused throughout the piece." If so, that would explain some of the more melancholy passages, notably the brief Interlude (Lament) that comes in the middle of the work. Death also is apparent in the final section, Ecce Cor Meum itself, which contains lyrics commenting on separation. But McCartney's sunnier nature is also apparent throughout. The hourlong choral work sounds appropriate to its commission; it would fit in well in either a concert hall or church, sung by an adult and boys' choir. Most of McCartney's lyrics are generalized expressions of love and, as the opening section puts it, Spiritus, rather than God specifically. There are moments that pop fans will recognize, certain familiar melodic motifs and instrumental sounds. For example, McCartney's affection for the piccolo trumpet, first revealed on "Penny Lane," is explored further. Ecce Cor Meum is not a great new choral work. It is unlikely, as Smith hoped, to be "sung by young people the world over in the same way that Handel's Messiah is." But on its own terms, it is a successful minor piece of classical music. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide
Quiet though it may be, Paul McCartney experienced something of a late-career renaissance with the release of his 1997 album Flaming Pie. With that record, he shook off years of coyness and half-baked ideas and delivered an album that, for whatever its slight flaws, was both ambitious and cohesive, and it started a streak that continued through the driving rock & roll album Run Devil Run and its 2001 follow-up, Driving Rain. For Chaos and Creation in the Backyard, the follow-up to that record, McCartney tried a different tactic, returning to the one-man band aesthetic of his debut album, McCartney, its latter-day sequel, McCartney II, and, to a lesser extent, the home-spun second album, Ram. Apart from a guitar part or two, a couple of drum tracks, and, of course, the strings and horns that pop up now and again, McCartney played everything here, from the guitars and keyboards down to the bass and drums. The difference here is that instead of producing the record by himself, McCartney brought in alt-rock auteur Nigel Godrich, best known as the producer behind Radiohead's OK Computer and Beck's Mutations, as well as being the only producer responsible for a streamlined Pavement record. Godrich has a gift for making messy or difficult music sound simple, logical, and clean, and he has that same effect on Chaos and Creation, removing the obvious rough edges and home-spun charm that characterized Macca's previous one-man affairs. Consequently, Chaos sounds as polished as a normal McCartney album, as polished as Driving Rain, but the process of its creation and recording does make this a very different album from not just its predecessor, but from most of McCartney's solo albums. It's quiet and meditative, not without its share of eccentricities, nor without its share of sprightly tunes -- certainly, the opener, "Fine Line," is a propulsive, hooky song that burrows into your head after just one spin and sounds like a tune you've known all your life, and "Promise to You Girl" also zips along nicely -- but the overall feel of the record is one that's reflective and ruminative, not messy or silly. Or whimsical or treacly, for that matter, since the combination of introspective ballads and intricately detailed but not overly fussy or polished production means that Chaos and Creation in the Backyard is a rare thing indeed: a McCartney album that's devoid of cuteness or easy sentiment. Which doesn't mean that it's somber or lacking in romantic material -- Paul loves his love songs, after all -- but the tone and timbre of the album is so simple, stripped-down, and sincere that all the music resonates a little deeper and feels a little more heartfelt. If there are no outright knockouts here, there are no weak spots, either, and if the album doesn't have the sprawl and quirks or overt humor of his classic solo albums from Ram through Tug of War, that's OK, because Chaos and Creation in the Backyard offers something different: not only is Paul in an unusually reflective mode, but he's made a lean, cohesive record that holds together better than his previous latter-day high-water mark, Flaming Pie -- which is unusual, since McCartney albums rarely, if ever, come without spots of filler. The quiet nature of Chaos and Creation may mean that some listeners will pass it over quickly, since it's a grower, but spend some time with the record and it becomes clear that McCartney is far from spent as either a songwriter or record-maker and, in many ways, continues to make some of the best music of his solo career. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
Another album, another tour, another live album souvenir of the tour. Paul McCartney has essentially followed this pattern since his 1989 return to arenas for the supporting tour for Flowers in the Dirt and each of the records are essentially the same: the big solo hits, some of the big Beatles songs, plus a few tunes from the latest solo album. The repertoire changes slightly over the years, with some Beatles tunes drifting in and out of rotation, but they all play exactly the same -- glossy, professional readings of the songs that you know and love, played in arrangements very close to the original versions. Comprised of highlights from his 2001/2002 tour, the double-disc Back in the U.S. is longer than, say, Paul Is Live, but that's the only difference between this set, or the equally long Tripping the Live Fantastic. If anything, he's playing for the crowd even more than usual, filling out the set list with sentimental favorites, including a version of "Something" as a tribute to the recently parted George Harrison. There is an unflagging sense of showmanship here and the musicianship is top-notch, and there's nothing wrong with the music but there's nothing interesting about it, either. Given the hot streak that he'd been on since 1998's Flaming Pie, it's a bit of a disappointment that this doesn't live up to those standards, but then again, this is no better or no worse than what you'd expect given his live albums since 1989. Unfortunately, it's exactly what you'd expect, which is certainly not as satisfying as a good live album and somehow more disappointing than a flat-out bad album. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
For Paul McCartney, Driving Rain completes the trilogy he began with Flaming Pie, in retrospect a warm tribute to his dying wife, and continued through the storming rock & roll of Run Devil Run. The first found Macca writing some of his most affecting songs while he returned to his musical standbys -- charming folk, layered pop, and amiable rock & roll. Then, with Run Devil Run, he retreated even further, finding his love for piledriving, uncompromising rock & roll. With those two extremes, he covered the bases with everything except one important thing -- he had yet to reclaim his art pop inclinations, something he does so subtly on Driving Rain. In a sense, it's a nice blend of the self-conscious Flowers in the Dirt and the organic, natural Flaming Pie, combining the craft of the former with the attitude of the latter. As such, it sounds fresh, particularly because McCartney has teamed up with young producers and backing bands that don't just allow him to follow his muse, they're eager to chase him when he extends a song to an abnormal length with a jam. This is not the homemade charm of Ram, nor the post-Abbey Road studio trickery of Red Rose Speedway or Band on the Run, but instead a seasoned professional finding a way to fuse his various influences in a record that is as proud of its melody as it is of its elasticity. As such, it's more self-conscious than its immediate predecessor and it's a little indulgent, but in a good way. When McCartney decides to indulge himself here, it's not with whimsy but with sheer musical muscle. As the record draws to a conclusion, he hauls out a bunch of inventive, winding jams that may be a little excessive, yet they're exciting because he hasn't tried something like this in years. He's grooving on making music again, just like he did on Flaming Pie and Run Devil Run. Driving Rain may not be as coherent as Pie, nor as relentless as Devil, but it's rich, layered, ambitious, and successful. Since becoming a solo artist, Paul McCartney has never delivered three records in a row so overstuffed with imagination, melody, and enthusiasm as he has in these three albums. Let's hope he can keep the streak going next time around. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
The hype mill, stoked in part by McCartney himself, promoted this CD as nothing less than a posthumous chapter in the Beatles' saga ("a new little piece of Beatles," in Paul's words). Nonsense, for this is really just the latest of McCartney's excursions into electronica, an interest of his that dates back to the Beatles' boundary-shredding experiments with musique concrète and the Moog synthesizer in the 1960s. It is a series of five electronic collages, with occasional eruptions of a new tune called "Free Now" (actually a catchy repetitive riff, no more or less), sounds of the auto tunnel under the Mersey, pieces of strange off-the-cuff interviews conducted by Paul on the Liverpool streets (he asks, disingenuously, "What do you think of the Beatles?"), snippets of a chorale from his Liverpool Oratorio -- and yes, some Beatle talk from the 1965 sessions for "Think for Yourself." All of the tracks are given separately distributed credits to McCartney, the Beatles, the group Super Furry Animals, and Youth -- his collaborator in previous electronica projects -- but in fact, the whole hour-long CD is of a single piece. The most effective segment is the one credited solely to Youth (bearing the unwieldy title "Real Gone Dub Made in Manifest in the Vortex of the Eternal Now"), where the pitchless electronic sounds are at their wildest and the disembodied Beatles voices and ghostly choruses are hauntingly adrift in a high-tech netherworld. As a listening experience, it is at least as casually absorbing as McCartney's two Fireman albums -- and it grows on you, provided that you drop any expectations of this being a long-lost Beatles album. ~ Richard Ginell, All Music Guide
After tackling two lengthy works in the Liverpool Oratorio and Standing Stone, Paul McCartney works in much smaller form on the pieces in his third album of classical music, Working Classical. The album consists of three compositions performed by the London Symphony Orchestra that run 10-12 minutes each, plus 11 short selections performed by the Loma Mar Quartet, some of which are versions of his pop songs. Of course, McCartney is more accustomed to writing short compositions, and even the three orchestral pieces seem more tightly organized than the earlier, longer works. "A Leaf" and "Spiral" both began as works for the piano but have been opened out in orchestrations by Jonathan Tunick and Richard Rodney Bennett, respectively. "Tuesday," by contrast, was written as the score for a short, animated children's film, and it retains the sense of being program music. The quartet pieces are unfailingly melodic, and the mixture of the pop songs "Junk," "My Love," "Maybe I'm Amazed," "She's My Baby," and "The Lovely Linda" with newer pieces creates a pleasant alternation of the new and the familiar. The chosen songs mostly were written for McCartney's late wife, and the album as a whole has a wistful, delicate sense consistent with the grief associated with her death. This, McCartney's second album after being widowed (following the pop/rock oldies collection Run Devil Run by only two weeks), consists largely of music written prior to the tragedy, but anticipates it and, simultaneously, marks the composer's welcome return from his period of bereavement. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide
When Paul McCartney returned to the studio a year after his wife Linda's death, he wanted to cut loose and have a good time. He gathered a bunch of friends, most notably guitarist David Gilmour, with the intention of cutting a collection of rock & roll oldies with minimal rehearsal and a handful of takes. On the surface, that makes Run Devil Run like Choba B CCCP, but there are subtle differences that make Devil a far superior effort. This time around, there's a real freshness to the performances. Gilmour, in particular, amazes, turning in some of his finest playing in years. Similarly, McCartney is invigorated, leaving behind his vocal schtick, laying back and rocking out with a set of fairly unfamiliar oldies. Only three songs -- "All Shook Up," "Lonesome Town," and "Brown Eyed Handsome Man" -- are radio staples; and while "I Got Stung," "Blue Jean Bop," "She Said Yeah," "Honey Hush," and "Movie Magg" are known by aficionados, they're not ubiquitous standards. This leaves room for a few more obscure numbers, such as Little Richard's "Shake a Hand," the Vipers' "No Other Baby," and the Fats Domino B-side "Coquette," plus three terrific new songs from McCartney: "Run Devil Run," a fantastic Chuck Berry-styled narrative; "Try Not to Cry," a strong bluesy pop number; and "What It Is," a catchy up-tempo shuffle. Best of all, McCartney and co-producer Chris Thomas create an appealingly out-of-time production -- heavily compressed sound, yes, but cleaner than '50s recordings and livelier, grittier than most '90s albums. It all adds up to a dynamic, loose, carefree, and utterly infectious record, one of his best solo albums. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide