I admire people who keep releasing albums late into their careers, especially when they have absolutely nothing left to prove.
Paul McCartney is that person more than anyone. His music has had a massive impact on the world. At 76 years old, he is the embodiment of a living legend – one of a handful still standing from his generation. He has never really slowed down, and here he is yet again with another new album.
Egypt Station is Paul’s 25th post-Beatles studio album (including Wings). It is evident that he doesn’t keep releasing albums for the money (who does, anymore?). He enjoys the process and has a genuine compulsion to keep making music. That in itself is an impulse worth applauding these days, when so many artists focus on touring and other, more lucrative avenues to keep the income on a certain level.
2018 saw McCartney managing to drum up quite the media blitz ahead of the album’s release. He revisited Abbey Road Studios, popped by The Cavern, and even managed to do a round tour of his old Liverpool haunts on the Carpool Karaoke show – which surely everybody with half an interest must have seen by now.
On Egypt Station McCartney takes us on a similar tour, albeit musically. The album is a tour de force of styles and moods. Each song is imagined as a train platform, each with a unique flavour, making it much like a journey through his own life in music.
Let’s face it – not every album Macca ever made has turned out to be a classic. His solo career is full of both hits and misses, even within the same album. This is to some degree also the case on this 17th solo album (excluding Wings).
Egypt Station contains several flashes of brilliance, but also a few lighter and even throwaway moments. Then again, Paul has a knack for making even the silliest of throwaway moments into earworms, largely redeeming himself in the process.
The album starts with a momentous highlight. I Don’t Know opens the album (a small intro track aside), and quickly establishes itself as a key moment. Paul lets down his guard from the get-go and shares very personal reflections about anxiety, doubt, and uncertainty. Paul is typically upbeat in his music and lyrics, so this offering is huge. I’m not sure that Paul has ever shared feelings like these quite like this before.
I got crows at my windows
Dogs at my door
I don’t think I can take anymore
What am I doing wrong?
I don’t know
“I wrote this song after going through a difficult period,” he said. “Like people have, nothing sort of madly serious or anything, but just one of those days when it’s like, ‘Oh my god, what am I doing wrong here?’ you know? And sometimes that’s a good way to write a song. Because it’s coming from your soul.”
The song is honest in admitting depression, and even fear. This could well fit McCartney’s comment that the song simply is about a ‘bummer day’, but under the surface lies the feeling that after 76 years, he is more aware than ever that he is getting near the end of his long and winding road. The invincibility that one feels with youth dwindles with age. It all adds up.
McCartney has written songs touching on his own mortality before (for example The End of the End on Memory Almost Full (2007)) but that still puts the usual Macca upbeat spin on things, and has a somewhat guarded tone.
This song should not be read as the words of someone on death’s door, by all means, but it sets a new standard as far as being naked and raw – and simply feeling mortal. The resulting song is a chilling, poignant, impactful masterpiece.
Paul added, “So it starts off with ‘I’ve got crows at my window, dogs at my door’ – and those are all the sort of troubles gnawing at me. And then it goes through and sort of tries to solve the problem. But eventually the answer is, I don’t know.”
The mood of I Don’t Know is not the prevailing one on the album. As we move from song to song (or train station to train station, if you want to go along with the concept) we are treated to a wide array of styles.
Paul is quick to snap us out of the funk with the album’s first single Come On To Me. This is a much more expected Paul-type pop song with the usual melodic flourishes that characterise his music. As a song it is very simple, banal even, but likeable. I liked it as a single, but like it even better on the album because of its role as a palate cleanser. It makes sense to serve a very light pop moment immediately following a song like I Don’t Know.
Paul has always been an incredible songsmith, and he’s still got it. The finest songs on the album are immediate, catchy, and vibrant. Who Cares chugs along in a comfortable tempo and alluring instrumentation, as he comfortingly sings “Who cares about the pain in your heart? Who cares about you? I do.” Paul’s always had our back somehow. A lovely message about not being brought down by the imbeciles out there which is nothing but endearing.
Paul’s been rediscovering his mojo on Egypt Station. On Come On To Me he suggestively sings “You wanted so much more than casual conversation,” but he takes it a step or five further in Fuh You – if nothing else then just by way of that title.
Where Come On To Me suggests, Fuh You spells it out. Paul describes Fuh You as a song that was made up bit by bit in the studio. It does have a spontaneous feel, and is catchy and immediate enough that it makes sense as a single choice. I also guess the title does not hurt if you’re looking for some attention. But would anyone but our Paul get away with it?
When Paul talks about the song in interviews he disarmingly pronounce it like “for you.” Are we just imagining things? Howard Stern pushed his heavily on this when he visited that radio show – “you mean ‘f*ck you’ don’t you?” and there was much laughter, but Paul did not budge. When he performed it in studio, he pointedly looked at Stern when he sang those two words very clearly, and it most definitely did not sound like “for you.”
Paul has always been a cheeky devil underneath that boyish charm, and of course he gets away with things like that. I recall zero outrage, furore, or offense being taken. The song was played on radio and TV, and it was not banned by any social media platform. The likely explanation is that we all thought, “if Paul is the one saying that, it can’t be too bad!”. And maybe a few even thought, “maybe he really does say ‘for you’!”
In between the more upbeat songs there are several other melancholy tracks. A songs like Confidante can at first seem like a new ode to his long missed friend John Lennon, with lyrics like “You used to be my confidante; I played with you throughout the day.” However, as explained by Paul on a video on his YouTube channel, the song is actually an ode to the many guitars he has owned over the years.
He was inspired by his old Martin that was “propped in the corner” of one of his rooms at home. It reminded him that when he first acquired guitars back in the days of the Beatles, “they would be like a friend. A confidante.” In those younger days, he’d go off into a corner and write a song and almost tell your troubles to your guitar. So this is, “a love song to the guitar.”
There are traces of the Beatles on Do It Now, which revisits one of the favourite catchphrases of his father. Paul explained to The Sun that if he said to his dad “I’ll do it later,” his dad would always reply: “No, do it now.” Paul added that “this do-it-now thing” had been in his head for a long time as a song idea. Eventually he came up with a song about a make-believe journey where he’s prompted to start travelling “now, while your vision is clear,” as the song says.
I find Caesar Rock to be a very pleasing moment personally. It has definite shades of Wings and his 1970s albums, but the song also contains more oddball things that are thrown in there – like the funky breakdown section after the choruses. The song is a straight-up ode to the woman in his life, who I can’t imagine being displeased with the song – even though it’s got a few more humorous lines like “she’s got matching teeth!”
Macca does have his world views, and puts them into song from time to time. On this album, Despite Repeated Warnings is about global warming denials. He was prompted to write about after picking up a newspaper in Japan. His attention was drawn to an article about people not doing anything about climate change despite repeated warnings.
The phrase stuck. It also prompted the idea of writing symbolically about a mad sea captain “steering us towards the icebergs” despite being warned it’s dangerous. The captain is “symbolic of politicians who argue that climate change is a hoax.”
The song starts as a suitably emotional piano-driven band ballad, but surprises are in store! After a few minutes it changes completely, becoming a more chugging rock band song with harmony vocals and a more urgent expression. After a while, the song change yet again, and the song ends up going through a number of facets in a near-progressive manner.
These changes are at first very unexpected, and ultimately very effective. If the song had stayed in the initial style of piano-driven ballad I doubt it would have carried the same impact at all. As it is, this ends up being one of the more exciting musical moments on the album.
Suffice to say, Egypt Station is an amazing record where diversity turns out to be its key strength. The album contains an array of styles, is playful, and has a lot of room for fun bits and experimentation. It is a record that does not take itself too seriously. At the same time, a lot of thought and care has gone into its creation.
It is also at times a more personal record than we’re used to getting from Paul. We may learn a thing or two about its creator, who in turn utilise as much of his songwriting arsenal as possible.
Every song is not a classic, but it all becomes a cohesive listening experience if you listen to it as an album. On a music player with random play, and out of context, a lot of the smaller/linking ideas and ditties would probably not work as well. This is however an album I urge you to experience from beginning to end at least a couple of times.
“I’m not quitting while people are crying for more,” he sings on People Want Peace. The prospect of even more albums in the future seems a little optimistic, and surely Paul has deserved to rest on his laurels soon. But it is a lovely thought to end with.
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