80 magical musical Macca moments (part two)

So last time out I listed 40 examples of McCartney genius across his career and, to mark his 80^th birthday, here are another 40 more. I must admit, once you start looking at this kind of stuff it is a little bit like going down a rabbit hole. You start to think: “But what about that bit? Or that little section there?” And unpicking some constituent parts of songs I guess kind of misses the point, because it’s how he weaves them all together to form a magnificent whole which is perhaps his greatest talent of all. He sees – or rather, hears – the big picture, in a way so few people can. Nonetheless, here are some more vignettes and little details which, for me, help to illustrate why he’s the best.

Again, they’re in no particular order, and don’t necessarily reflect his very finest songs. They’re just moments which always make me go “Wow!” So happy birthday, Macca. Let’s hope there are a few more of these still to come.

41. The way he growls “Eat like a hunger” on ‘Oo You’ (McCartney, 1970). Definitely got something on his mind about Linda there…

42. The synthesiser lines which come out of nowhere and illuminate the closing passage of ‘Mamunia’ (Band on the Run, 1973).

Recording ‘Band on the Run’, 1973

43. His stinging guitar solo (not to mention his astonishing bass playing) in ‘Taxman’ (Revolver, 1966), adding even more bite to the song.

44. The beckoning “Well well, oh yeah” intro which draws you into ‘Tiny Bubble’ (Driving Rain, 2001), the aural equivalent of easing into a warm bath. And the song delivers on its promise.

45. The line “Like gravy, down to the last drop/I keep mopping her up” in ‘She’s My Baby’ (Wings at the Speed of Sound, 1976).

46. The barrage of disorienting synthesisers which kick in when he sings “But me, I’m losing my mind” on ‘Looking at Her’ (New, 2013).

47. The heart-melting way he croons “Goooood-byeyeyeye…bye bye” at the end of his demo of ‘Goodbye’ (Abbey Road deluxe, 1969) for Mary Hopkin.

48. That snarling, monster guitar riff which punctuates ‘Souvenir’ (Flaming Pie, 1997).

49. His searing, breathtaking vocal which brings ‘Back Seat of My Car’ (Ram, 1971) to a stirring conclusion, as primal as anything John was doing at the time. I swear that voice could move mountains.

50. The way he undercuts the bouncy optimism of ‘Good Times Coming/Feel The Sun’ (Press to Play, 1986) with a cautionary final verse: “That was a golden summer, before the war/They laughed a lot that summer, happy at the good times coming…”

51. The fragile, delicate arrangement of ‘Hand in Hand’ (Egypt Station, 2018), topped off by his close-miked, naked vocal.

Blowing his own trumpet – recording ‘Flowers in the Dirt’, 1988

52. His keyboard intros to ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’ (Beatles single, 1967), ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’ (Sgt. Pepper, 1967) and ‘While My Guitar Gently Weeps’ (The Beatles, 1968). While he didn’t write any of the songs, it’s impossible to think of any of them without those scene-setting contributions.

53. The full-throated finale to ‘Junior’s Farm’ (Wings single, 1974), veering away from the nonsense lyrics of the main tune to a pining, misty-eyed plea for a return to happier times.

54. His effortlessly graceful melody for ‘My Valentine’ (Kisses on the Bottom, 2012). The second verse, when the strings creep in, is just sumptuous.

55. The scorching lead guitar battle which erupts in the live version of ‘Sgt. Pepper’ (Tripping The Live Fantastic, 1990). When I first saw him live, this blew my mind.

56. The raunchy way he holds the note at the end of the line “Never knew that love could fill you up” in ‘What’s That You’re Doing?’ (Tug of War, 1982).

57. The tear-jerking clarinet which underscores the “Looking like a rag doll/Singing like a skylark” middle section of ‘Mama’s Little Girl’ (b-side, 1973). How does he think of stuff like this?

58. The swirling cascade of acoustic guitars which sweep in on the line “Up and down your carousel” in ‘Don’t Let It Bring You Down’ (London Town, 1978).

59. His bassline in ‘Something’ (Abbey Road, 1969). A work of art in itself, yet it enhances the rest of the song without overshadowing it.

60. The spectacular vocal leap midway through ‘Through Our Love’ (Pipes of Peace, 1983), which ushers in the orchestra and propels the track into the stratosphere.

Quiet: genius at work. Making ‘Sgt. Pepper’, 1967

61. The big band tease he throws in at the end of ‘You Want Her Too’ (Flowers in the Dirt, 1989), almost as if to show you how good he is. See also the brief but delicious guitar solo which closes out ‘No Words’ (Band on the Run, 1973).

62. His charming “We should do this more often” during the instrumental break in ‘You Gave me The Answer’ (Venus and Mars, 1975).

63. The plaintive, moody arrangement he layers over a bed of beguiling harmony vocals in ‘Kicked Around No More’ (b-side, 1993).

64. His two ferocious guitar solos in ‘House of Wax’ (Memory Almost Full, 2007), like lightning bolts ripping through a storm at sea.

65. His wild, sexually-charged vocal tour-de-force in ‘Clarabella’ (Live at the BBC, 1963). His scream when George takes the guitar solo is one for the ages.

 66. The way he shifts gears not once, but twice, to give ‘Tomorrow’ (Wild Life, 1971) a rousing crescendo, squeezing every drop of emotion from the tune.

67. The brooding, sepulchral atmosphere he conjures up in ‘Riding to Vanity Fair’ (Chaos and Creation in the Backyard, 2005).

68. His wonderfully relaxed and playful vocal stylings on ‘Crackin’ Up’ (Choba B CCCP, 1987), on top of his irresistible chugging guitar.

Tinkling the ebonies and ivories at home, 1970

69. His piano intro to ‘Martha My Dear’ (The Beatles, 1968), an utterly enchanting piece of music in its own right.

70. The way, in contrast to the original recording, he pushes the melody upwards at the end of the live version of ‘Here Today’ (Back in the World, 2003), finishing in a falsetto which magnifies the bittersweet nature of the song.

71. The sleight-of-hand skill which transforms one of his greatest ballads into a slick and fun dancefloor extravaganza, with the play-out version of ‘No More Lonely Nights’ (Give My Regards to Broad Street, 1984).

72. An obvious one, perhaps, but the “You gotta give the other fella helllllll!” moment in ‘Live and Let Die’ (Wings single, 1973) never fails to set the pulse racing.

73. His vocal at the very end of ‘Loveliest Thing’ (b-side, 1989), where his “oh..ohoh..ohoh..” is wreathed in sadness.

74. His use of a brass band to give a warm, fireside glow to ‘Winter Rose/Love Awake’ (Back to the Egg, 1979). So very English.

75. His high scream which brings ‘Twist and Shout’ (Please Please Me, 1963) to fever pitch at the end of the three-part harmony build-up before the final verse.

76. The unrestrained energy and invention which runs through ‘In A Hurry’ (single, 2019), packing in an array of twists and turns which shows his well of creativity is nowhere near running dry.

Promoting ‘Chaos and Creation in the Backyard’, 2005

77. The lyric “All these years I’ve been wandering around/Wondering how come nobody told me/All that I was looking for/Was somebody who looked like you” from ‘I’ve Got A Feeling’ (Let It Be, 1970).

78. The hope and optimism he pours into his delivery of the line “Tomorrow it will be over…” in ‘Summer’s Day Song’ (McCartney II, 1980).

79. The way he stitches all the individual song melodies together for the finale of the ‘Hold Me Tight’/‘Lazy Dynamite’/‘Hands of Love’/‘Power Cut’ medley (Red Rose Speedway, 1973).

80. His aching, nostalgic but somehow uplifting “oooh” which closes out the main part of ‘Free as a Bird’ (Anthology Vol. 1, 1995). His musical instincts were right on the money, as always.

It won’t be soon enough for me – 10 years of the McCartney Archive Collection (part three)

The view among fans about the McCartney Archive Collection to date seems to be very mixed. Some people are really happy with what MPL is putting out, think the lavish deluxe editions offer value for money and love unboxing them when they arrive in the post. I have no problem with that, and don’t wish to rain on anyone’s parade. The books, and other bits and pieces, look beautifully produced, and it’s good to get detailed information about each album out there. But, for me, this is putting the cart before the horse. As I’ve said in previous posts, the most important thing is the music  – and, in this, I think we’ve been seriously short-changed. 

Let me say, I have no sense of entitlement about this. Paul has already given us acres of great music over 60 years (with more to come), and it seems almost churlish to ask for more. He’s an artist, and is perfectly within his rights to do whatever he wants with the stuff he’s created. However, if he wants to repackage his back catalogue and make a profit in doing so – and the very existence of the Archive Collection indicates that he does – it would make sense that it’s done properly, and with an eye on what your target audience wants. Even the standard two-disc Archive releases are not going to have much mass appeal beyond the McCartney fanbase, and Paul’s “people” have said the profit margins on these products are quite tight, so why not make them as attractive as possible by including the one thing virtually all fans would like to see: more rare and unreleased songs? 

In the Virgin Islands recording ‘London Town’, which has yet to have the Archive treatment

The thing is, it’s not like he’s been set against this idea throughout his career. As far back as the mid-‘70s, he was talking about a Cold Cuts collection of tracks which didn’t quite make it onto his early albums, but it never appeared (except on bootlegs). And he remains very unusual among his contemporaries in not having ever issued a ‘rarities’ set (Elton John is the just the latest of Paul’s peers to do so, with the recent release of an eight-disc collection. And that is currently selling for less than £90….compared with £240 for the Flaming Pie deluxe). Okay, he’s put some stuff on the Archive releases but, as my earlier posts have discussed, there are still lots of songs inexplicably left in the can. Paul said in a recent interview that he wished he could be more like Bob Dylan. If that’s the case, he would do well to check out Dylan’s on-going official Bootleg series – albums full of unissued material, which now span almost 30 years and a staggering 15 volumes.

Ah, but what about quality control, I hear you ask? Maybe Paul doesn’t want to put out recordings he thinks are inferior and so tarnish his reputation. Well, that argument tends to run aground when you consider the Archive releases have already included truly awful material like ‘Women Kind’ and ‘Bogey Wobble’, or worthless trifles like ‘Message to Joe’ and ‘C’mon Down C’mon Baby’ (not to mention ‘Outtake’ versions i, ii and iii on Wild Life). I know taste is subjective, but stack those up against gems like ‘Waterspout’, ‘Seems Like Old Times’, ‘On The Wings of a Nightingale’, ‘Yvonne’, ‘Return to Pepperland’ and other quality songs which are still languishing in the vaults. Okay, I know some of these could yet turn up on future Archive packages but – based on previous releases – I wouldn’t want to put any money on it. The stupid thing is, all these songs have already surfaced on bootlegs, so not putting out official, good quality versions seems an exercise in denial and futility. It may also be a sign that Paul doesn’t really have a clear idea of the riches he is sitting on. It’s very interesting that one unreleased track from the early ‘90s, ‘When Winter Comes’, was lined up for inclusion on the Flaming Pie Archive edition, until Paul decided it deserved better and has instead made it the closing song on his forthcoming McCartney III album.  You can only presume he forgot about it for the best part of 30 years. In the Flaming Pie book, when quizzed about another unheard song from those sessions, ‘Cello in the Ruins’, he simply says: “It does ring a bell….but god knows where the bell is.” Seriously? He doesn’t have anyone – a team, even – compiling and managing his vast musical archive? 

There must be a mountain of unheard acoustic songs in the vaults

So, on the whole, I feel the Archive Collection has been something of a bust so far, which is a real pity. It’s unlikely Paul will change course now though – we know what he’s like when he’s got his mind fixed on something, and he doesn’t like to be told he’s doing something wrong. I’d rather he took a different approach (which I’ll come onto later) but, if the series does continue, there are a few simple things MPL/Capitol could do to make it a more appealing proposition to fans and a much more polished, considered presentation of the McCartney oeuvre.

Pick up the pace

The glacial pace of these releases is unfathomable. As I said in part one, we’re a decade in and haven’t even got to the half-way point (assuming he plans to do his whole catalogue). I know Macca’s a busy man, but surely he’s got teams of people to do the leg work? Yes, the accompanying books are nicely done and must take a while to put together, but surely not this long? If nothing else, the drawn-out release dates make no financial sense. I’m generalising, but younger fans are not so hung up on physical releases, and the hard-core older fanbase which must make up most of the target audience is inevitably shrinking all the time, either through other commitments or sheer mortality (people are literally dying to hear this stuff). Which is bound to impact on those fabled “margins” we hear about. Is it really too much to ask that a minimum of two Archive editions come out every year? For the next few years, at least, they should commit to: 

• 2021 – London Town and Back to the Egg

•  2022 – Give My Regards To Broad Street and Press to Play

• 2023 – Choba B CCCP and Run Devil Run.

A scene from ‘Broad Street’ – will that even get an Archive edition?

Keep it affordable

Another thing eating into those profit margins is the fact that the cost of these sets are soaring with each release. Yes, you’ll always snare the die-hard collectors who’ll go without regular meals to pay for this kind of stuff, but more and more people are saying “I’m out” with each new release. Which means MPL/Capitol puts the price up again next time, to recoup their costs. Which means fewer people buy it, and so on. A vicious circle. Here’s a thing – why not trim out any unnecessary books and other trinkets and throw in an extra disc or two, and peg the price at around the £100 mark? You know, like, er, The Beatles have done with the recent anniversary special editions. Yes, I know the market for those is bigger, but surely it’s better to sell five copies at £100 than two copies at £180? And you can still do luxury special editions with all the added treats for those who really do wish to re-mortgage their homes.

Be thorough and complete

First of all – and I can’t believe I’m having to say this – do all the albums. I’m slightly concerned Paul last year released remastered versions of Choba B CCCP and Paul is Live without any Archive extras or bonus material. Indeed, Choba actually had fewer tracks than the previously available version (11, as opposed to 14), because that’s how it was originally released in Russia, or some such nonsense. Really, who makes these decisions? All his studio albums, at least, should be properly, erm, archived. Okay, remastering probably won’t make much of a difference to the sound quality of ones released after 2000, but let’s not leave the house half built. And, as part of that, all b-sides, bonus tracks, giveaways and other rarities – in other words, everything he’s ever officially released – should be included alongside the relevant albums. And fully remastered. Otherwise, what’s the point?

Enterprising bootleggers have created their own ‘Ultimate Archive Collection’

Involve the fans

You’re never going to be able to please everyone with these sets, I accept that, and Paul shouldn’t be dictated to by his fan base when compiling his work.However, there are lots of people out there who appear to have a more in-depth, rounded knowledge of his back catalogue than he or his “people” do. They are also much more likely to have an idea what will make fans (not just serious collectors) part with their hard-earned cash. With their input, situations like Flowers in the Dirt debacle could easily have been avoided. I’m sure they could offer solid advice about how these sets could be made as appealing as possible to the majority of the potential audience. Which brings me to….

More unreleased material

I can’t imagine any fan would disagree on this one. As I mentioned earlier, we already know there’s some great stuff lurking in the vaults; we also know the titles of other tracks which have yet to see the light of day, and I’m sure there is much more we know nothing about. The 1988 Elvis Costello collaborations (on the Flowers Archive edition) and a few other goodies aside, we’ve seen precious little of this stuff in the series so far – incomprehensible, when you consider this would be a major selling point. Perhaps Paul is holding stuff back for some sort of outtakes box set but, as such a project has failed to materialise since Cold Cuts was first mooted 46 years ago, I wouldn’t hold your breath. In fact, I doubt anyone involved in this series thinks very far ahead. For all the talk of a “comprehensive plan” when Macca re-signed with Capitol in 2016, the reissue campaign has been characterised by scattershot, inconsistent decision-making and missed opportunities. There’s a real lack of imagination and care going into the music side of these releases, as if MPL is making it up on the fly.

As long as enough people keep buying the Archive sets, I’m sure they will continue, and I doubt very much will change, sadly. But there is another way. Capitol could run a concurrent series of releases just focusing on the music, mopping up and properly presenting stuff missed off the Archives (which would, of course, give people an incentive to buy some of those albums again). Looking at the way David Bowie’s catalogue has been divided up into a series of chronological box sets over recent years, I’d love to see something like this for McCartney: 

•  put out his studio albums of original material in three box sets, with seven or eight per box, plus bonus discs filled (not half-filled) with related demos, singles/B-sides and unreleased songs from that period. You could have “1970-76”, “1977-93” and “1997-2020”.

•  compile companion box sets rounding up the other sub-genres of his output — “In Concert”, with all his live albums (including Wings Over Europe); “Covers” (possibly including Broad Street and Unplugged alongside the two rock ‘n’ roll albums and Kisses on the Bottom); “Classical”, and “Experimenting” (including the Fireman releases, Liverpool Sound Collage and Twin Freaks). Each box could also have bonus discs collecting rarities and unreleased material, plus a CD-style liner notes book.

• produce a four-, five- or even six-CD anthology box of unreleased home demos and outtakes recorded at his Rude Studio over the years. And you could finish things off with a DVD box containing ALL his promotional films, concert films and notable documentaries/TV specials such as Put It There, Movin’ On, In The World Tonight, Back in the US and so on.

A bootleg of material recorded at Paul’s Rude Studio

They could make each album available individually, on CD and for download/streaming, as well. But if they really want to encourage the collectors among us, they could design the artwork for each of the nine boxes so that they spell out M-c-C-A-R-T-N-E-Y when displayed on a shelf, perhaps with a different instrument on the cover of each (three different basses on his studio collections, acoustic guitar, piano, etc.). If these were priced at around £120 and came out once a year, I think most fans would be in heaven. And it would give Paul a chance to tidy up and collate his musical legacy while he’s still around to do so.

These are just my thoughts – I’m sure others will have their own ideas. Paul has produced so much outstanding music over the past 50 years, I just hope someone at MPL or Capitol will come up with a serious plan one day to do it justice. There are easy ways to keep us happy, make some money and ensure the McCartney canon is given the care and status it deserves.

My Top Ten cover versions by solo Beatles

While cover versions of their favourite songs were a staple of most early Beatles albums, by late 1965 the Fabs were focusing solely on their own material. This would continue for the remainder of their recording career, though the Get Back/Let It Be sessions in early 1969 showed they never needed any prompting to run through beloved tunes from their youth whenever there was a lull in making a new album. This was an itch which needed to be scratched after they went their separate ways, too. The first fully-fledged solo album of “real” songs was Ringo’s Sentimental Journey, a collection of pre-rock standards in 1970, and more often than not he would include an oldie or two on the albums which followed. Most of George’s solo outings also featured a cover of some sort, while John went the whole hog in 1975 with his Rock ‘n’ Roll album. Paul followed suit – twice – in 1988 and 1999, before taking a leaf out of Ringo’s book with 2012’s Kisses On The Bottom, mostly made up of jazz-flavoured ‘Great American Songbook’ numbers.

John listening to a playback during the sessions for ‘Rock ‘n’ Roll’, 1974

 I don’t begrudge them revisiting the music which inspired them in the first place. The problem is, their own material (particularly in the case of John, Paul and George) usually has more depth, sophistication and invention than the tunes of yesteryear; one of the main reasons for their impact  (and perhaps why they have endured) is that they tore up the Tin Pan Alley rulebook, wrote songs with emotional reality which articulated feelings way beyond Moon/June romantic clichés,  and expanded the horizons of pop music far beyond what was conceivable even just a few years before. For that reason, hugely enjoyable though they are, none of their ‘covers’ albums would feature high up in my rankings of their strongest solo work. Nonetheless, their best interpretations of other people’s material inject palpable energy, wit and passion, elevating them to the same level as some of their own compositions. The following list showcases my favourites.

Promotional image for ‘Run Devil Run’, 1999

For the sake of this run-down, I am arbitrarily limiting it to stuff before 1970, ie. songs they grew up with. I should also give honourable mentions to some great tracks which haven’t made the list but are still well worth a listen: John’s take on ‘To Know Her is to Love Her’, recorded with Phil Spector in 1973; Ringo’s ‘I Keep Forgettin’ from Old Wave (1982), and George’s 1987 mega-hit ‘Got My Mind Set On You’ (from Cloud Nine). There many other decent ones, but here are what I consider to be the toppermost of the poppermost.

10. ‘Slippin’ and Slidin’’ – John Lennon

Paul bagged almost all the Little Richard songs The Beatles performed in their early days, so John must’ve relished the chance to get stuck into this one when he recorded 1975’s Rock ‘n’ Roll album. It certainly sounds like it – the pounding piano and wailing saxophones capture the ‘50s vibe perfectly, and buoy up his exuberant vocal. After his draining battle with the US immigration authorities for the previous few years (and which was still going on when he taped this), I wonder whether he injected a little extra venom into the line “you know you better surrender” in the third verse. Either way, it’s a cracking track.

9. ‘More I Cannot Wish You’ – Paul McCartney

This beautifully tender reading of an obscure song from the original Guys and Dolls stage musical was – apart from the McCartney-penned ‘My Valentine’ – the best track 2012’s Kisses On The Bottom. Paul’s ageing voice is perfectly suited to the lyric of a parent ruminating on the future of his child (he admitted he was thinking of his daughter Beatrice, then eight, when he sang it). The low-key arrangement, including some subtle strings in the second half, and languid pace also combine to help make a very elegant, moving confection.

8. ‘Baltimore Oriole’ – George Harrison

George was a big fan of old school tunesmiths like Hoagy Carmichael, and recorded two of his numbers for 1981’s Somewhere in England. But while ‘Hong Kong Blues’ was a rather awkward mix of synth-driven early-80s pop and 1930s songwriting sensibilities, ‘Baltimore Oriole’ was a masterful update of the genre. The stylish, smoky arrangement, with piano and saxophone to the fore, provide the perfect backdrop for George’s understated guitar and vocal, as he croons the tale of a lovelorn man missing his songbird partner who’s left him for adventure and warmer climes. His dreamy backing vocals are also excellent.

7. ‘I Got Stung’ – Paul McCartney

1999’s Run Devil Run, recorded with a band of seasoned pros (including Pink Floyd’s Dave Gilmour), was Paul’s first release since Linda’s death the previous  year. It’s easy to read too much into that, but there is something genuinely life-affirming and restorative about the way he attacks the rock ‘n’ roll songs of his 1950s youth which make up most of the album. And never more so than on this Elvis number, which he tears into right from the opening lyric. It’s a breathless performance – you feel like you’re clinging onto a runaway train for dear life – which climaxes with  a frenzied vocal wig-out in classic Macca fashion.

6. ‘Stand By Me’ – John Lennon.

I have to be honest, I’ve never been a fan of the Ben E. King original. But John Lennon’s voice can work wonders with just about anything, and so it is here on this stand-out from the Rock ‘n’ Roll album. The way he lets rip when he gets to the first chorus is phenomenal, transforming the song into a gut-wrenching plea in the face of an apocalypse, bearing his soul, as ever. I also love the swampy backing and draggy beat, a sort of ‘Wall of Sound’ in miniature, and the twin guitar solos are just great.

5. ‘Matchbox’ – Paul McCartney

I can count on one hand the number of Beatles songs I don’t like, and their 1964 version of Carl Perkins’ ‘Matchbox’ is one of them. It’s so lacklustre and half-hearted, on the part of both the band and George Martin, it has a feeling of “we need one more track for this EP – let’s knock this one off quickly so we can get to the pub”. Their 1962 version from Live at the Star Club, with John on lead vocal instead of Ringo, has more fire in the belly but is still not much more than ‘okay’. But this Macca rendition, recorded during a soundcheck during his 1989/90 world tour and included on Tripping the Live Fantastic, is a different beast altogether. Right from the snarling opening guitar chord, Paul and his band rock the life out of it, throwing in two scorching guitar solos (from Macca and Robbie McIntosh), synth horns and a piano break from keyboardist Wix, and a raw, throaty lead vocal. It’s still not much of a song, but the groove is irresistible.

4. ‘Bring It On Home To Me/Send Me Some Lovin’’ – John Lennon

John cleverly melded Sam Cooke’s 1962 hit with a Little Richard b-side for what is probably the best number on Rock ‘n’ Roll. The opening part of the medley, with its taut, chugging piano-led rhythm, is good, but it goes up a couple of notches in the second half, with some meaty horns and more peerless Lennon vocals, full of yearning. Listen to the way he effortlessly apes Buddy Holly and Little Richard at various points. Incidentally, Paul also recorded ‘Bring It On Home To Me’ (for 1988’s Choba B CCCP) and there is a cleverly blended edit of their versions on YouTube. They sound great together, as always.

3. ‘She Said Yeah’ – Paul McCartney

Another high-speed adrenalin rush from Run Devil Run, Paul is in his element on this Larry Williams number. Aided by crunchy, visceral production, the band performance bristles with energy (including a glorious piano solo) and Paul sings it with a real lusty swagger. The combined effect is like going 12 rounds with a heavyweight boxer in just two magical, punch-drunk minutes. And as one reviewer wrote at the time, no one sings the word “yeah” quite like Paul McCartney.

2. ‘Aint That A Shame’ – Paul McCartney

John also recorded a fine version of this Fats Domino classic for Rock ‘n’ Roll, but Paul’s more muscular rendition just edges it. The best track on 1988’s Choba B CCCP, a collection of covers cut live in the studio the previous year and originally released only in the Soviet Union, it’s a pounding, powerhouse performance which builds in excitement as it goes along. There’s some fine lead guitar from Macca and his voice is thing of wonder, squeezing every last drop of pathos from the uncomplicated lyric. I got to see him perform this live a few times in 1990, and it was a thumping joy.

1. ‘Angel Baby’ – John Lennon

Inexplicably omitted when John compiled the final track listing for Rock ‘n’ Roll, this didn’t see the light of day until the 1986 posthumous release Menlove Avenue. Recorded in 1973 with Phil Spector, this take on the 1960 hit by Rosie and the Originals (one of Lennon’s “all-time favourite songs”, as he says on the intro) is just spellbinding. The sparse doo-wop style of the original is replaced with the full Spector Wall of Sound treatment, and John delivers towering, achingly fragile vocals to match. Like many of the tracks on this list, it’s a very simple song – the kind of number he or the other Beatles would have heard booming out of fairground speakers when they held hands or nervously fumbled for a first kiss with the girl of their teenage dreams – but he finds the inherent emotion in it to produce a swooning romantic epic for the ages. It stands comparison with some of his greatest solo work, and it’s good to see it finally getting some recognition by being included on the new Gimme Some Truth Lennon ‘best of’ compilation album. It’s more than worthy.