In Which They Ask You How They Are And If You Want A Drink Paul McCartney

Talking With Paul

In the film A Hard Day's Night, there were the stereotypes — if you remember, John the thinker, Ringo the loner and Paul the happy-go-lucky. Did you object to that?

No. I didn't mind it. No, no; I still don't. I was in a film. I don't care what they picture me as. So far as I'm concerned, I'm just doing a job in a film. If the film calls for me to be a cheerful chap, well, great; I'll be a cheerful chap.

It does seem to have fallen in my role to be kind of a bit more that than others. I was always known in the Beatle thing as being the one who would kind of sit the press down and say, "Hello, how are you? Do you want a drink?" and make them comfortable. I guess that's me. My family loop was like that. So I kind of used to do that, plus a little more polished than I might normally have done, but you're aware you're talking to the press... You want a good article, don't you, so you don't want to go sluggin' the guys off.

But I'm not ashamed of anything I've been, you know. I kind of like the idea of doing something and if it turns out in a few years to look a bit sloppy I'd say, "Oh well, sloppy. So what?" I think most people dig it. You get people livin' out in Queens or say Red Creek, Minnesota, and they're all wiped out themselves...you know, ordinary people. Once you get into the kind of critical bit, people analyzing you and then you start to look at yourself and analyze yourself, and you think, oh Christ you got me, and things start to rebound on ya, why didn't I put on kind of a smart image...you know, why wasn't I tougher? I'm not really lovable, either, but I don't mind falling in the middle. My dad's advice: moderation, son. Every father in the world tells you moderation.

British parents aren't different...

No, they're exactly the same. My dad could be the perfect American stereotype father. He's a good lad, though; I like him, you know.

I tell you what. I think that a lot of people worried about that kind of stuff didn't often have very good family scenes, and something happened in their families to make them bitter. OK, in the normal day-to-day life a lot of polished talk goes on...you don't love everyone you meet, but you try and get on with people, you know, you don't try and put 'em up-tight; most people don't anyway.

So to me that's always been the way. I mean, there's nothin' wrong with that; why should I go around slugging people? I really didn't like all that John did but I'm sure that he doesn't now.

Have you talked to him about that?

No, but I know John, and I know that most of it was just something to tell the newspapers. He was in that mood then and he wanted all that to be said. I think, now, whilst he probably doesn't regret it, he didn't mean every single syllable of it. I mean, he came out with all stuff like I'm like Engelbert Humperdinck. I know he doesn't really think that. In the press, they really wanted me to come out and slam John back and I used to get pissed at the guys coming up to me and saying, "This is the latest thing John said and what's your answer?" And I'd say, "Well, don't really have much of an answer. He's got a right to say..." — you know, really limp things, I'd answer. But I believe keep cool and that sort of thing and it passes over. I don't believe if someone kind of punches you over you have to go kind of thumping him back to prove you're a man and that kind of thing. I think, actually, you do win that way in the end, you know.

What was your reaction when you read that stuff at the time?

Oh, I hated it. You can imagine, I sat down and pored over every little paragraph, every little sentence. "Does he really think that of me?" I thought. And at the time, I thought, "It's me. I am. That's just what I'm like. He's captured me so well; I'm a turd, you know." I sat down and really thought, I'm just nothin'. But then, well, kind of people who dug me like Linda said, "Now you know that's not true, you're joking. He's got a grudge, man; the guy's trying to polish you off." Gradually I started to think, great, that's not true. I'm not really like Engelbert; I don't just write ballads. And that kept me kind of hanging on; but at the time, I tell you, it hurt me. Whew. Deep.

Could you write a song or songs with John again?

I could. It's totally fresh ground, right now, 'cause I just got my visa, too. About two or three days ago; and until then, I couldn't physically write a song with John; he was in America. He couldn't get out. I couldn't get in. But now that's changed so whole new possibilities are opening up. Anything could happen. I like to write with John. I like to write with anyone who's good.

Did you feel scared when McCartney was released, since that was your debut and the first song was pegged at you?

No. I didn't take it as serious as I should have. I think it was good copy at the time to slag everything. Everybody was getting slagged, the Beatles were getting slagged. I personally didn't realize you had to explain yourself a lot once you get into the public eye. I just carried on with my normal life, like I had in New York, and I just got all this slagging. It never really brought me down much, though. 

Unlike John, who went to a solo career, Paul went to a group.

John didn't really go to a solo career, there was the Plastic Ono Band and that. But Paul is very much a teamwork person. He doesn't like working on his own. He still gets nervous. He likes working with people, bouncing off people and having them bounce off him. He likes helping people.

How did you meet Linda?

Linda and I met in a club in London called the Bag of Nails, which was right about the time that the club scene was going strong in London. She was down there with some friends. I think she was down there with Chas Chandler and some other people, and I was down there with some friends, including a guy who used to work at the office. I was in my little booth and she was in her little booth, and we were giving each other the eye you know. Georgie Fame was playing that night and we were both right into Georgie Fame.

When did you first realize you wanted to marry her?

About a year later. We both thought it a bit crazy at the time, and we also thought it would be a gas. Linda was a bit dubious, because she had been married before and wasn't too set on settling. In a way, she thought it tends to blow things, marrying ruins it. But we both fancied each other enough to do it. And now we're glad we did it, you know. It's great. I love it.

Mick Jagger had that quote. He wouldn't let ...

...his old lady in the band, yeah. That was all very understandable at the time because she did kind of appear out of nowhere. To most people, she was just some chick. I just figure she was the main help for me on the albums around that time. She was there every day, helping on harmonies and all of that stuff.

It's like you write millions of love songs and finally when you're in love you'd kind of like to write one for the person you're in love with. So I think all this business about getting Linda in the billing was just a way of saying, "Listen I don't care what you think, this is what I think. I'm putting her right up there with me."

Later we thought it might have been cooler not to introduce her so bluntly. Perhaps a little more show business: "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to my better half. Isn't she sweet and coy?"

It turns out it didn't matter, it didn't matter one bit. At the time it was a little rough, maybe. At the time it was rough for her. None of us realized what...it was like someone marrying Mick, you don't realize...you know there are going to be a lot of fans who are going to hate it, but you still end up thinking, well, it's my life. I know of a lot of rock & roll stars or just even show business people who will regulate their life to their image. It can mess you up a lot. I know a lot of guys from the old days who wouldn't get married, even if they wanted to. Wouldn't get married because it might affect their careers. The old management thing — "You can't get married, all your fans are going to desert you." So the guy doesn't get married.

But the thing is, in a couple of years, his career is over anyway. And he didn't get married, and he went and blew it. So I didn't. "Well, I'm not going to let that kind of thing interfere with me." Although I didn't wish to blow my career, I thought it was more important to get on with living. We went ahead and just did what we felt like doing. Some of it came out possibly a bit offensive to some people, but it turns out that it didn't matter in the first place. You just keep going.

Did your friends in music stick by you at that time or did you find it a little tough? Or did you have that many friends at the time?

I remember Ringo saying at the time "How many friends have I got?" and he couldn't count them on one hand. And that's what it boils down to, really. You can have millions of friends, but when someone asks you how many friends you've got, it depends on how honestly you're going to answer. Because I don't think I have that many. No one went against me or anything, I think I isolated myself a bit. It's just one of those things. We had just met for the first time. We're very romantic, the both of us, and we really didn't want to hang out with anyone else.

Do you often go back to Liverpool?

We visit to keep in touch with the Liverpool scene. My family roots are up there, our kids love it, and my brother still lives there. In fact, we're going to make an album with him in January.

Will it come out as a Mike McGear album?

That's right. It's a singing thing, he's quit comedy for the moment. We're going to do it at Strawberry Studios in Stockport. We'll play it by ear, it's Mike's album.

Is it difficult for the kids, being your daughters?

I don't think so, I don't think they're going to be crazed-out kids. But it is funny sometimes. I remember I was sitting in a field and Heather was leading Mary and a little baby on a pony, and Mary just said to me, "You're Paul McCartney, aren't you?" When she's talking to me normally, she'll just call me Daddy. When there's company around, she knows I'm Paul McCartney, in inverted commas.

It's nice that we have all girls. If we had a son it might be harder on him, like Frank Sinatra, Jr. Everyone assumes he'll turn out to be his dad. At the moment, there's not much to worry about with the kids.

When you were in their position, did you feel a sense of responsibility, or did you feel the world had gone crazy?

No, no. We were a band who'd been trying to make it big for a long time. When you're trying to get to the top, when you start to get there, that's probably the biggest thrill. You don't think the whole world's gone crazy; you think it's great that they like you and you're well-chuffed that you're going down so well. That's all that enters your head. I think that even Little Jimmy just thinks, "Hey, man, that's great, that's far-out." You know? He just loves it. And that's really the best way.

When you get thinking too heavily about all this stuff, like anything, you can do so many doublethinks on it all you end up with is not liking it, which is the only hang up. When you end up not liking it then you start to do it less well. I always thought, just great, great band, great things, great kids, kids screaming, fantastic, fabulous, great, everyone's having a good night out. That sort of thing, basically.

Seeing that Let it Be was released basically after the fact, do you wish it had not been released?

Oh, no. I don't wish that about anything. Everything seems to take its place in history after it's happened and it's fine to let it stay there.

It was the first album to have the little bits on, like the type that also a appeared on McCartney.

I rather fancied having just the plain tapes and nothing done to them at all. We had thought of doing something looser before, but the albums always turned out to be well produced. That was the idea of the whole album. All the normal things that you record that are great and have all this atmosphere but aren't brilliant recordings or production jobs normally are left out and wind up on, say, Pete Townshend's cutting floor. It ends up with the rest of his demos.

But all that stuff is often stuff I love. It's got the door opening, the banging of the tape recorder, a couple of people giggling in the background. When you've got friends around, those are the kinds of tracks you play them. You don't play them the big finished produced version.

Like "Hey Jude," I think I've got that tape somewhere, where I'm going on and on with all these funny words. I remember I played it to John and Yoko and I was saying, "These words won't be on the finished version." Some of the words were, "The movement you need is on your shoulder," and John was saying, "It's great! 'The movement you need is on your shoulder.'" I'm saying, "It's crazy, it doesn't make any sense at all." He's saying, "Sure, it does, it's great." I'm always saying that, by the way, that's me, I'm always never sure if it's good enough. That's me, you know.

The first of your albums with some of those little bitsy things was Let It Be. Had you wanted to do that before?

Yes, I think so. In the back of everyone's mind there was always that kind of thing. The sound of a tape being spooled back is an interesting sound. If you're working in a recording studio, you hear it all the time and get use to it. You don't think anything of it. But when the man switches on the tape machine in the middle of a track and you hear that kind of djeeoww, and then the track starts, I'd always liked all that, all those rough edges and loose ends. It gives it a kind of live excitement.

When you do have rough edges on an album, you're open to interpretation. There's the famous example of John and Yoko's "Wedding Album," where the reviewer reviewed the tone on the test pressing and said that the subtle fluctuations in this tone were very arty.

The whole analysis business is a funny business, it's almost like creating history before it's been created. When a thing happens you immediately start analyzing it as if it was 50 years ago, as if it was King Henry VIII who said it. It is daft, actually, but you can't blame anyone for doing it, they've got to write something. Unless they can say "I was around at his house and he gave me a nice cup of tea...funny little blue cups he gave it in ..." they've got to say, well, what did you mean by this, or what was that tone.

With one song you mentioned just a few minutes ago, "Hey Jude," everyone was trying to figure out who Jude was.

I happened to be driving out to see Cynthia Lennon. I think it was just after John and she had broken up, and I was quite mates with Julian [their son]. He's a nice kid, Julian. And I was going out in me car just vaguely singing this song, and it was like "Hey Jules." I don't know why, "Hey Jules." It was just this thing, you know, "Don't make it bad/ Take a sad song ..." And then I just thought a better name was Jude. A bit more country & western for me.

Once you get analyzing something and looking into it, things do begin to appear and things do begin to tie in. Because everything ties in, and what you get depends on your approach to it. You look at everything with a black attitude and it's all black.

As I say, nine times out of ten it's really nothing. Take the end of Sgt. Pepper, that backward thing, "We'll fuck you like Supermen." Some fans came around to my door giggling. I said, "Hello, what do you want?" They said, "Is it true, that bit at the end? Is it true? It says 'We'll fuck you like Supermen.'" I said, "No, you're kidding. I haven't heard it, but I'll play it." It was just some piece of conversation that was recorded and turned backwards. But I went inside after I'd seen them and played it studiously, turned it backwards with my thumb against the motor, turned the motor off and did it backwards. And there it was, sure as anything, plain as anything. "We'll fuck you like Supermen." I thought, Jesus, what can you do?

You mentioned Dylan sort of being an inspiration for doing Wild Life the way you did it...He's going on the road, of course, this month.

With the Band ...

Does this in any way motivate you, inspire you?

No, not particularly. I mean, I've just been on the road last year, so my being...doing that just might have inspired him; I don't know, you know. He's a great guy, Dylan; he's a musician, and stuff, and he's a great spirit. Love him, you know.

Do you think he influenced you at all?

Oh, yes. Very heavily.

I think the first time was in "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away." That was John's song. Then there was a good deal of influence in the Hard Day's Night and Help! periods. Certain chords, the acoustic bit. We liked him.

It's been suggested that the Beatles provided something for Americans they had lost with the death of Kennedy — youth, happiness, freedom from inhibitions. Does that make much sense to you?

No, none at all.

In songwriting technique, how did you compose with John? How did you compose yourself, and then with Linda?

Well, first, I started off on my own. Very early on I met John, and we then gradually, started to write stuff together. Which didn't mean we wrote everything together. We'd kind of write eighty percent together, and the other twenty percent for me were things like "Yesterday" and for John things like "Strawberry Fields" that he'd mainly write on his own. And I did certain stuff on my own. So I've done stuff on my own.

How would you see George Martin's contributions in those songs in those days?

George's contribution was quite a big one, actually. The first time he really ever showed that he could see beyond what we were offering him was "Please Please Me." It was originally conceived as a Roy Orbison-type thing, you know. George Martin said, "Well, we'll put the tempo up." He lifted the tempo and we all thought that was much better and that was a big hit. George was in there quite heavily from the beginning.

The time we got offended, I'll tell you, was one of the reviews, I think about Sgt. Pepper — one of the reviews said, "This is George Martin's finest album." We got shook; I mean, "We don't mind him helping us, it's great, it's a great help, but it's not his album, folks, you know." And there got to be a little bitterness over that. A bit of help, but Christ, if he's goin' to get all the credit...for the whole album...[Paul plays with his children.]

How did you hear of John's death? What was your first reaction?

My manager rang me early in the morning. Linda was taking the kids to school.

Yet the only thing you were quoted as saying after John's assassination was, 'Well, it's a drag.'"

What happened was we heard the news that morning and, strangely enough, all of us... the three Beatles, friends of John's... all of us reacted in the same way. Separately. Everyone just went to work that day. All of us. Nobody could stay home with that news. We all had to go to work and be with people we knew. Couldn't bear it. We just had to keep going. So I went in and did a day's work in a kind of shock. And as I was coming out of the studio later, there was a reporter, and as we were driving away, he just stuck the microphone in the window and shouted, 'What do you think about John's death?' I had just finished a whole day in shock and I said, 'It's a drag.' I meant drag in the heaviest sense of the word, you know: 'It's a--DRAG.' But, you know, when you look at that in print, it says, 'Yes, it's a drag.' Matter of fact."

You tend to give a lot of flip answers to questions, don't you?

I know what you mean. When my mum died, I said, 'What are we going to do for money?'

Whatever else you say, people have always felt you are commercially minded, that you are motivated by money.

No, it isn't money. It's doing well. I saw that Meryl Streep said, 'I just want to do my job well.' And really, that's all I'm ever trying to do. I still like writing songs. It still gives me a thrill. If I had been asked at 15 why I wrote, I would have answered, 'Money.' But after a while, you realize that's not really your driving motive. When you get the money, you still need to keep going; you don't stop. There has to be something else. I think it's the freedom to do what you want and to live your dreams.

'Love Me Do'

The first song we recorded, like, for real. First serious audition. I was very nervous, I remember. John was supposed to sing the lead, but they changed their minds and asked me to sing lead at the last minute, because they wanted John to play harmonica. Until then, we hadn't rehearsed with a harmonica; George Martin started arranging it on the spot. It was very nerve-wracking."

'Do You Want to Know a Secret'

Nothing much; a song we really wrote for George to sing. Before he wrote his own stuff, John and I wrote things for him and Ringo to do.

'All My Loving.'

Yeah, I wrote that one. It was the first song I ever wrote where I had the words before the music. I wrote the words on a bus on tour, then we got the tune when I arrived there. The first time I've ever worked upside down.

'I Wanna Be Your Man.'

I wrote it for Ringo to do on one of the early albums. But we ended up giving it to the Stones. We met Mick and Keith in a taxi one day in Charing Cross Road and Mick said, 'Have you got any songs?' So we said, 'Well, we just happen to have one with us!' I think George had been instrumental in getting them their first record contract. We suggested them to Decca, 'cuz Decca had blown it by refusing us, so they had tried to save face by asking George, 'Know any other groups?' He said, 'Well, there is this group called the Stones.' So that's how they got their first contract. Anyway, John and I gave them maybe not their first record, but I think the first they got on the charts with. They don't tell anybody about it these days; they prefer to be more ethnic. But you and I know the real truth.

'Not a Second Time'

Influenced by Smokey Robinson and the Miracles.

'Please Mr. Postman.'

Influenced by the Marvelettes, who did the original version. We got it from our fans, who would write PLEASE MR. POSTMAN on the back of the envelopes. 'Posty, posty, don't be slow, be like the Beatles and go, man, go!' That sort of stuff.

'If I Fell.'

This was our close-harmony period. We did a few songs... 'This Boy,' 'If I Fell,' 'Yes It Is' ...in the same vein, which were kind of like the Fourmost- an English vocal group, only not really.

'And I Love Her.'

It's just a love song; no, it wasn't for anyone. Having the title start in midsentence, I thought that was clever. Well, Perry Como did 'And I Love You So' many years later. Tried to nick the idea. I like that... it was a nice tune, that one. I still like it.

'Can't Buy Me Love.'

We recorded it in France, as I recall. Went over to the Odeon in Paris. Recorded it over there. Felt proud because Ella Fitzgerald recorded it, too, though we didn't realize what it meant that she was doing it.

'Help!'

John wrote that... well, John and I wrote it at his house in Weybridge for the film. I think the title was out of desperation.

'You've Got to Hide Your Love Away.'

That was John doing a Dylan... heavily influenced by Bob. If you listen, he's singing it like Bob.

'Nowhere Man.'

That was John after a night out, with dawn coming up. I think at that point in his life, he was a bit wondering where he was going.

'In My Life.'

I think I wrote the tune to that; that's the one we slightly dispute. John either forgot or didn't think I wrote the tune. I remember he had the words, like a poem... sort of about faces he remembered. I recall going off for half an hour and sitting with a Mellotron he had, writing the tune. Which was Miracles inspired, as I remember. In fact, a lot of stuff was then.

'Taxman.'

George wrote that and I played guitar on it. He wrote it in anger at finding out what the taxman did. He had never known before then what could happen to your money.

'Eleanor Rigby.'

I wrote that. I got the name Rigby from a shop in Bristol. I was wandering round Bristol one day and saw a shop called Rigby. And I think Eleanor was from Eleanor Bron, the actress we worked with in the film 'Help!' But I just liked the name. I was looking for a name that sounded natural. Eleanor Rigby sounded natural.

'Here, There and Everywhere.'

I wrote that by John's pool one day.

'Yesterday'

It fell out of bed. I had a piano by my bedside and I... must have dreamed it, because I tumbled out of bed and put my hands on the piano keys and I had a tune in my head. It was just all there, a complete thing. I couldn't believe it. It came too easy. In fact, I didn't believe I'd written it. I thought maybe I'd heard it before, it was some other tune, and I went around for weeks playing the chords of the song for people, asking them, 'Is this like something? I think I've written it.' And people would say, 'No, it's not like anything else, but it's good.' I don't believe in magic as far as that kind of thing is concerned. I'm not into 'Hey, what's your sign?' or any of that. But, I mean, magic as in 'Where did you come from? How did you become the successful sperm out of 300,000,000?' --that's magic I believe in. I don't know how I got here, and I don't know how I write songs. I don't know why I breathe. God, magic, wonder. It just is. I love that kind of thought: All the information for a tree was in an acorn... the tree was somehow in there.

'Yellow Submarine'

I wrote that in bed one night. As a kid's story. And then we thought it would be good for Ringo to do.

'Good Day Sunshine.'

Wrote that out at John's one day... the sun was shining. Influenced by the Lovin' Spoonful.

Did your taking LSD make any difference in your writing?

I suppose it did, yeah. I suppose everything makes some kind of difference. It was a psychedelic period then, so we were into that kind of thing. But we didn't 'work' with LSD... ever.

'Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.'

It was an idea I had, I think, when I was flying from L.A. to somewhere. I thought it would be nice to lose our identities, to submerge ourselves in the persona of a fake group. We would make up all the culture around it and collect all our heroes in one place. So I thought, A typical stupid-sounding name for a Dr. Hook's Medicine Show and Traveling Circus kind of thing would be 'Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.' Just a word game, really.

'Getting Better.'

Wrote that at my house in St. John's Wood. All I remember is that I said, 'It's getting better all the time,' and John contributed the legendary line 'It couldn't get much worse.' Which I thought was very good. Against the spirit of that song, which was all super-optimistic... then there's that lovely little sardonic line. Typical John.

'Fixing a Hole.'

Yeah, I wrote that. I liked that one. Strange story, though. The night we went to record that, a guy turned up at my house who announced himself as Jesus. So I took him to the session. You know, couldn't harm, I thought. Introduced Jesus to the guys. Quite reasonable about it. But that was it. Last we ever saw of Jesus.

'She's Leaving Home.'

I wrote that. My kind of ballad from that period. My daughter likes that one. One of my daughters likes that. Still works. The other thing I remember is that George Martin was offended that I used another arranger. He was busy and I was itching to get on with it; I was inspired. I think George had a lot of difficulty forgiving me for that. It hurt him; I didn't mean to."

'Lovely Rita'

Yeah, that was mine. It was based on the American meter maid. And I got the idea to just... you know, so many of my things, like 'When I'm Sixty-Four' and those, they're tongue in cheek! But they get taken for real!" (sarcastic impression) "'Paul is saying, Will you love me when I'm 64.' But I say, 'Will you still feed me when I'm 64?' That's the tongue-in-cheek bit. And similarly with 'Lovely Rita' --the idea of a parking-meter attendant's being sexy was tongue in cheek at the time. Although I've seen a few around, come to think of it.

'A Day in the Life'

That was mainly John's, I think. I remember being very conscious of the words 'I'd love to turn you on' and thinking, Well, that's about as risque as we dare get at this point. Well, the BBC banned it. It said, 'Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall' or something. But I mean that there was nothing vaguely rude or naughtly in any of that. 'I'd love to turn you on' was the rudest line in the whole thing. But that was one of John's very good ones. I wrote... that was co-written. The orchestra crescendo and that was based on some of the ideas I'd been getting from Stockhausen and people like that, which is more abstract. So we told the orchestra members to just start on their lowest note and end on their highest note and go in their own time... which orchestras are frightened to do. That's not the tradition. But we got 'em to do it. Actually, we got the trumpets to start on the lowest note, and the violins started a little later; violins tend to follow one another, they're like sheep. Trumpets are a bit more adventurous; they're drunk! Trumpeters are generally drunk. It wets their whistle."

'Back in the U.S.S.R.'

I wrote that as a kind of Beach Boys parody. And 'Back in the USA' was a Chuck Berry song, so it kinda took off from there. I just liked the idea of Georgia girls and talking about places like the Ukraine as if they were California, you know? It was also hands across the water, which I'm still conscious of. 'Cuz they like us out there, even though the bosses in the Kremlin may not. The kids do. And that to me is very important for the future of the race.

'Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da.'

A fella who used to hang around the clubs used to say," (Jamaican accent) "'Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on, and he got annoyed when I did a song of it, 'cuz he wanted a cut. I said, 'Come on, Jimmy, it's just an expression. If you'd written the song, you could have had a cut.' He also used to say, 'Nothin's too much, just outta sight.' He was just one of those guys who had great expressions, you know.

Paul's quotes are from interviews with Playboy and Rolling Stone.

"Every Night" - Paul McCartney (mp3)

"I've Just Seen A Face" - Paul McCartney (mp3)

"And I Love Her" - Paul McCartney (mp3)

"Blackbird" - Paul McCartney (mp3)

"Ain't No Sunshine" - Paul McCartney (mp3)

"Singing the Blues" - Paul McCartney (mp3)