Paul McCartney - New

I can never make my mind up when it comes to discussing vocally-strained music gods making appearances at quaint old public events like the Queen's jubilee or the Olympics opening ceremony. The majority of viewers seem to fall quite harshly into the "give it up, grandpa!" camp and to be fair there are only so many times one needs to see Hey Jude croaked live. Whilst McCartney is fine to perform the Beatles' standards and parts of the British cultural furniture for whatever calendar milestone pops up, it's easy to see that he puts the most of his efforts into his...er... New solo stuff. This, his sixteenth effort, has a far more collaborative feel though than his last; 2007's Memory's Almost Full rather fell on deaf ears here and didn't last long in either head or heart. Here, though, he's gathered producers as decorated as Mark Ronson, Paul Epworth and Ethan Johns to help hone his legendary craftsmanship into a record that's fresh and interesting.

Trying to find that guy that says "no" (or, more accurately, "how about...?") to McCartney has long been the undoing of many of his previous solo efforts, but essentially all of them have had some songwriting that continued building that mythical quality about him. New finds the man reasserting his status as Britain's most loveable, most dependable rock relic and a refreshing new chapter in a book that was losing its plot.

Forever indebted to his past, though, the album sees production from Giles Martin, son of the Beatles' go-to genius George, in one of his first major helmsman roles (usually sticking to remixing and reworking the Fab Fours' history, and, er, a pair of Hayley Westenra albums). His management here has mixed results: there're valiant and fascinating attempts at reinvigorating McCartney's sound with 'Appreciate', a dragging, frustrated note-to-self of "lift up your head and remember what your life is" whilst sweeping drums and a hushed vocal performance give off reminders of 90s-era Bowie or Ian Brown's solo work. Equally surprising is another of his directions, 'Looking at Her' - initially appearing to be a subtle happy ballad about a girl he's observing that then sees him "losing his mind" as synths warp around dramatically. He lets slip a couple of times though: 'On My Way to Work' has that token say-what-you-see feel that's been seen and done far more charmingly by Paul, but its lyrics still retain some fun. 'Everybody Out There' has a multi-instrumentalisation about it that you can imagine being bashed out on Jools Holland and is rather melodic, even if its sentiment is quite simple: be nice. 'I Can Bet', too, is a fine blend of new and old: a structure not too dissimilar to Get Back given a modern, rockier twist.

Most of Martin's help here though - perhaps predictably - seems mostly in reverence to his father's work. Paul's writing with the others offer up more to chew over: Paul Epworth (at this stage in his career no longer needing introductions, surely?) knocks three times with the punchy opener 'Save Us' (which, to carry on a trend in the above paragraph, actually sounds like 2013 Bowie), the uncertain, conflicted 'Road' ("I can't see any more/ the blinding light") and strong favourite of mine 'Queenie Eye'. The latter is the album's stand out catchy, party moment and Ronson is careful to carry on this trend: he injects unusual sounds into 'Alligator', a kind of modern take on glam rock, whilst the title track is perhaps the most tuneful and deliriously happy reminder of the '60s efforts of Paul there's been since...well, whenever the last Beatles milestone was on the TV.

It'd be foolish, of course, for McCartney to pass an album by without referencing that time in his life, and Ethan Johns constructs a poignant, soft spot for 'Early Days' to unfold on. "May sweet memories of friends come to the past always come to you" is its mantra, and a welcome one it is too when most music fans argue endlessly over whether Paul or John was the greatest. "Time is flying by us every day/ I want to show my love in every way" he admits on 'Hosanna', the album's rawest moment.

I must admit that I'm not particularly well-versed in the solo material of Paul. I was born in 1990, so go figure, and most of the efforts that popped up around the years where I was even slightly aware of music weren't exactly strong. This is the first thing he's done that's made me prick up my ears as a new release. Who knows whether that will happen again; for now, there couldn't be a more convincing argument to be happy with this.

Rating: 8/10
Highlights: Queenie Eye; Early Days; New; Looking at Her; Hosanna
Avoid: n/a

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