Yoko Is Beautiful (Says John) - (1971)

 Yoko is Beautiful (Says John)

By Chris Pritchard

The Sydney Morning Herald

July 24, 1971

    John Lennon and Yoko Ono are in London this week to launch the paperback edition of Grapefruit, Yoko's book. They granted their first long interviews for nearly a year. Here is the report of a one-hour private conversation. 

    Yoko Ono is beautiful, well, not really, but John Lennon more or less made me promise to say she is, and, in a funny sort of way, she is rather attractive. "It's peculiar, you know, the way people say she's ugly," John reflected this week. "I mean, the papers say the most hideous women are attractive, but with Yoko, they say she's ugly. They've never done that about anybody else." Through all this, Yoko smiled a big, toothy smile at me, and said she agreed. 

    "We're still a very loving couple, the two of us," she interrupted. "I used to dread the future and think that all the passion was a passing thing. I would think forward and predict to myself that marriage to one person would become a bore after three years, but it hasn't. We're closer and busier than ever."

     The ex-Beatle and his wife were relaxing at Apple, the Savile Row headquarters of the Beatles' organization. Despite the group's demise, the four individuals are still hot properties. Down the road are London's most conservative men's tailors, but outside the white-painted Apple building, more than 100 groupies, half of them young summer trippers from other countries, wait expectantly for a glimpse of even one of the four. 

    Inside, the luckier groupies, those on the Apple payroll, are opening fan mail or making coffee for the stripe-suited city gents, who, following the much-publicized Beatles court battle, keep Apple's finances on the straight and narrow. John and Yoko receive their guests in a big front room. They sit at a white-and-purple desk, with Yoko eating boiled sweets from a brown paper bag and John scurrying about like a messenger on a never-ending search for "this press handout we've got somewhere that gives a bit of background on your last question."

     He's beginning to get a bit of an establishment manner. 30-year-old John is. He talks about his seven-year-old son by his former marriage as "the lad, my boy Julian", who is in the habit of coming down for the weekends. 

    John's face is clean-shaven, his hair shortish, and his wife is very much the adoring companion, slightly in the background, despite the fact that it is the launching of her paperback, Grapefruit, that the two of them are promoting. The book was published in hardback last year (although limited extracts were circulated a decade ago). But at the time, the twosome were undergoing therapy at a hideout in the United States. So, according to John, "The only publicity the book received was a statement by the publisher that he was annoyed we were not around to promote it." Grapefruit is a collection of Yoko Ono's thoughts and observations. "A code for living," she calls it.

 Sample:  "Have a dance party. Let people dance with chairs."  And again, "Draw a line with yourself. Go on drawing until you disappear."

     Yoko says reactions to her work are good in the United States, but shocking in Britain. "They don't understand it in England. They say it's rubbish, but in the United States, we are treated as serious artists."

     John interposed, "I think the trouble, Yoko, is this: in my own country, I'm regarded as the lad who won the pools and went off to marry his Japanese princess. You're the Japanese princess, not to be taken too seriously."

     Despite their preference for the United States as a working base, they prefer living in England, where they have an impressive house at Ascot. "It's a wonderful place to return to, the gardens and the lake," John told me. "I like my house."

     They both believe their lives are more hectic now than they were while the Beatles, as an entity, were still alive. "Yoko has the American paperback edition of her book coming out in a few months," John said, "As well as an off-Broadway show; she's got an exhibition of her art lined up for the Guggenheim Museum in New York early next year, and right now we're finishing the mixing of her record Fly, which should be released soon. 

    "I've got the possibility of an off-Broadway show too. Then there's my album Imagine, that we're busy on. It's almost finished. We've never been busier, or I feel, as popular. Our stuff still sells, and that proves people like us."

     Discussion of the other ex-Beatles is minimal. In fact, it's confined to a few dropped remarks about arch enemy Paul McCartney, who John believes tried to make the group his personal vehicle. "The trouble in Britain," John told me, "is that some people treat us as more friends of Paul's rather than as artists in our own right."

     But one of John's chief interests now is politics. "I suppose you could call me rather left-wing." He admitted.

     That he was seriously interested in self-stylized revolutionary politics first became apparent about five months ago when he allowed himself to be interviewed by Red Mole, a British Trotskyist journal with a tiny circulation. Red Mole is run by Tariq Ali, one-time Trafalgar Square firebrand, and Robin Blackburn, a long-haired economist who lost his lecturing job following rowdy demonstrations in the London School for Economics in 1969. The pair interviewed Lennon and his wife for an issue which sold many times the usual print order.

     Everyone wanted to see what John Lennon was saying. He was declaring himself to be a working-class lad, praising Mao and people's war and offering strong verbal support to the ultra left; had he done any harm to his reputation? "No, I don't think so," he told me. "People who don't like it, I'm better off without. It's not as if I'm a communist or anything. The leftists hadn't really asked for my views before, so when they did, I just told them how I felt. That's all. I believe it is in the Australians to keep the British underground spirit alive. Richard Neville and Jermaine Greer are Aussies, right?" he asks, turning to Yoko, who nods.

     John and Yoko have just finished composing "God Save Oz", a song which hit the record shops this week, performed by an impromptu Oz Elastic Band (not featuring John and Yoko). Proceeds from the record will go toward paying the lawyers in the Oz magazine obscenity trial, now on at the Old Bailey.

     I mentioned that last year he had been scheduled to visit Australia several times, and each time the plans were shelved. "Yeah, I know, but when we were in the Beatles, we got our best reception in Australia. I've always wanted to go back there and take Yoko along." Yoko was standing at the window and looking down at the street, where by now about 300 groupies were gathered. "You'd think it was some kind of occasion." She observed, dipping her hand back into the bag of sweets.

McGear Interivew (1974)

 McGear Interview

The Write Thing

January/February 1975

    You shouldn't buy Mike McGear's new album McGear because it was done by Paul's brother, or produced by Paul, or half-written by Paul, or even played on by Paul. You should get it because it's a damn good album, maybe one of three bests of the year. 

    Mike's voice is very deep, very British, and very, very good. The production is tight with beautiful background instrumentation and the kind of songs that stay in your mind. It was supposed to be promoted heavily by Warner Brothers, but I haven't seen any publicity on it around here, where most stores have only one copy hidden under M in the rock section, not exactly overexposing him.

     Mike was on a coast-to-coast American promotional stint to plug the album. John Awarski from Cleveland, Ohio, took photographs of him there and sent us this interview by Janet Macoska.

 Q:  The "Liverpool Lou" record was that Scaffold or was that you?

 Mike:  That was Scaffold. Yes, I did the lead on it, just the lead singing.

 Q: On the other side, "Ten Years After on Strawberry Jam" (written by Paul and Linda), it's sorta like the Beatles... 

Mike:  It's not. That comes from my heritage, you see. It comes from all our heritage.

 Q Is that you doing the voices?

 Mike:  We were all doing it, but it may be that I had the strongest influence on it because we were talking about the old days. We had had a few drinks. I must admit, I'm sorry about that, and we were feeling a bit relaxed, and we started to talk, talking about this character, a very old, amazing man named Tommy Houston, who came out of Liverpool. He was back before the big pop evolution and the Beatles and all those groups. He was well before that. That "Strawberry Jam" was just talking about his experience in life and how he started it all. One of the bits was back to Hamburg. 

Q: A lot of people did think that was about the Beatles.

 Mike:  Sure. But what I could do in that context with a few drinks down me... I know all of that backwards, you see, because I had a brother that went there. So I could say all these things, and they could all be based on facts. That's why it was a bit more interesting. 

Q: Okay, I want to talk about your album too. Could you tell us a little bit about what we should expect?

 Mike:  Well, what to expect is insanity-complete insanity for a start. It's sort of straight pop, and my first sort of straight pop album. There's one track on it called "Norton", which I've allowed my heritage to creep through. It's sort of a comedy one. It's got a little sketch in the middle. That's the only one on it, though. The rest is straight pop. (Corrects himself.) Sorry. In that very statement, it's wrong because straight pop would have one song done in different ways. That's all groups do. It's the same feeling on every track. And I, because I like variety, this is exactly what life is about now. We'll go out of this posh hotel and we'll fall over a dustbin because that's down there too. That's what life's about. You can walk through a door and there can be somebody who hits you in the face. I like life to change, so my album has a lot of changes on it. Suddenly, you go from a very Andy Williams ballad, as it were, into a heavy Lou Reed rocker.

 Q: Did you have this idea in your head before you went into the studio to do it? I mean, you must have talked it over.

 Mike:  Yes, we did, but I mean, no, that evolved. We originally were going to do a lot of songs. The only one that's been captured of another person's is Bryan Ferry's one, "Sea Breezes", and that in concept is completely different from Bryan's version. His one was on a Roxy Music album. It was quite mad. 

Q:  He probably would enjoy that too, because he has a knack for taking other people's things and doing them in his own style.

 Mike:  Oh yes, well, when he heard mine, the first thing he said when I met him was, "Let us shake hands, and I love your version of my song." He's a friend now.

 Q. How did you and Paul work together? Was this the first time that you ever wrote songs together?

 Mike:  No, we wrote other things together before, but not seriously. We've always done things sort of lightheartedly with no structure, just like fooling around, mockin' around. So we haven't worked seriously together. 

Q: Were you happy with the finished product?

Mike:  Very. Amazingly, I haven't even heard it in a while, cause I've been talking too much about it on the radio and to people. I'm very proud of it. It goes on. That's my only criteria in life of a record, is if it goes on a turntable, then that'll do. There are only a few records that go on my turntable, and that, (McGear), thank God, is one of them. 

Q:  Do you have plans to come back and do some kind of tour, either with Scaffold or by yourself?

 Mike: Now I am. When I came to this country, I was just going to do a promo tour and go home, thank you. I've been listening and being drawn into America, and you sort of, (in an Irish brogue) get in me heart. You shock me. It's quite amazing. And so with that reaction, I can come back. Anybody who talks to me, I'll talk to them. Now, people have come in saying, "How do you do?" and talking instead of the things they were doing last time. They certainly weren't talking to me. They were talking at me.

 Q:  Is your children's book that you wrote and illustrated, Roger Bear available over here?

 Mike:  It's not been released over here. They were thinking of releasing it in my album, but they suddenly thought, "Oh God, it's going to confuse and take away from the album". It's going to be an awkward thing to relate to both of them at the same time, whereas the lovely thing about it is that I'm relating to both of them anyway. The only problem is the people can't get the product over here. (He pulls out a copy of Roger Bear to show us) Spike Milligan, John Lennon, and Bowie-three different people who have read that thing and got off on it. It takes a lot of time to color it in. Look at those colorings there.

 Q:  Did you do that?

 Mike: Yes, I did. 

Q: you stayed in the lines and everything. 

Mike:  Oh God. Well, you wait till you start doing it. It's very hard, but it's great fun. 

The single "Leave It, written by Paul, is one of the album's best too, was supposed to receive a lot of airplay, but I haven't heard it on the radio here, and it hasn't made any of the charts yet. But it deserves to be a big hit. Be sure to look for it or the album.

Horns by Tom Scott (1974)

 

Horns by Tom Scott

The Harrison Alliance

March 1975

Harrison or Beatles? 

     "The audiences have been mixed," Scott explained between sets in Montreal. "Radically different from city to city. If they keep an open mind, anybody will walk away knowing something's going on, even if they don't understand it all. Maybe sometime it will sink in. 

    "There isn't a lot of yelling out Beatles songs. They've been pretty tolerant. Bill Graham was concerned. To Bill, the main reason people came was because George was a quarter of the Beatles, and he thought George should play more Beatles tunes, but George would rather have less people come and have them be interested in what he wants to present to them. That's a dangerous or risky attitude. It's not the most commercial approach you can take, and that's why people say the tour was terrible, not because anything's wrong with the music. It's a dynamite band. We get on stage and we know it's good. People can say what they like. The material isn't important. It's what George wants to do, and I'm behind him."

     "Rehearsals for the tour took place at the A & M soundstage for three weeks," Tom Scott reminisced. "The plans were made last fall. It was a spontaneous thing. We knew of five or six songs we definitely wanted to do, so we started with those. "What is life?" "In My Life", the John Lennon song, which he always wanted to do. "Sue Me" and " While My Guitar Gently Weeps " were some of the things he knew people would want to hear. Yet he could still feature me on one song and Billy Preston on three songs. He wanted to give the impression of a band with him as host, soloist, singer, and guitarist."

     And off they went, plagued by untrue press reports, but pleased by the music being made by a troupe that included 16 Indian musicians playing along with Americans like Willie Weeks, Andy Newmark, Chuck Findley, Billy Preston, and Jim Keltner, creating a new unbounded music that defied labeling as easily as the men involved defied natural boundaries.

 Tied to Beatle images  "It's not true that the tour's been bad," Scott explained.  "I was very disappointed with Ben Fong-Torres, who wrote Rolling Stone's analysis of the Harrison Tour, for using comments many of us made, and making them sound negative. Naturally, there have been some things wrong with the tour. He took a large part of that article from only the Vancouver show, the very first show. Everyone's first show has problems with sound and programming. In fact, the music is sensational. The people who say it's terrible wanted to go and see a Beatles medley. Those are the people who will walk away unsatisfied, but they have to try and understand that George is an ex-Beatle. He has other interests, other musical interests, other musicians. He prefers that to the Beatles for musical reasons. I don't think there's anything wrong with that. If he wanted to, I think that would be great, but he does not. So let the guy do what the heck he wants. He's a tremendous talent. 

    "Right after the first show, there was a reorganization of the set, and that's what pisses me off about Ben. He traveled with us from Vancouver to L.A. long after we'd made all the changes. Ravi's section was moved, and at the end of the show, rather than doing material from the new album, which were the unfamiliar, we put Billy's hits just before "What Is Life" and "My Sweet Lord." The changes were so minor that I can't believe anyone made a big deal about it. The only places we had trouble were in the very beginning of the tour. There was confusion revolving around the advertising. People in line in Vancouver were saying, "Is he going to sing?" I've seen very conceivable opinions written about Joni, myself, and George, and it's all part of the game. You hope that most people get the message. 

    "Another problem has been George's voice because he hasn't gone out on tour in so long. He strained himself, so his voice has occasionally been very hoarse. Lately, it's been superb."

     Secular album  Perhaps more than anything else, the biggest surprise on Dark Horse is the lack of songs dealing directly with religion. "Maya Love", a soft, funky rocker spiced by superb Billy Preston piano riffs, follows "Bye Bye Love" almost as an answer to the prior song's chanted desperation.  Then on side two, "Ding Dong Ding Dong," and the title track, and a song George originally wrote and played on for Ron Wood's solo album Far East Man are all simply good songs. 

    Dark Horse brings back memories of the White Album, as Chuck Findlay, Jim Horn, and Scott dart through the intricate melody on flutes. Scott again excels on "Far East Man", with a horn solo that would vindicate any context in which it was put. Only the final track, "It Is He Jai Sri Krishna", deals directly with Harrison's religious beliefs. "He who is complete free worlds at his feet", Harrison sings, and the song, as the capper to the album, gives the impression that Harrison belongs among the free.

     "He loves to discuss religion," Scott said. "I spent many early mornings talking with him about what religion means to us and how it relates to trying to be a rock and roll musician.

     "There are no simple answers, but George, rather than in his previous albums where he tried to verbalize some of those questions and thoughts, was more concerned with writing good songs than having a good time. You don't start out with a preset tone for an album. You write what you feel at the moment. You get 10 to 12 tracks, and as George did, pick the eight or 10 best. Those tunes which he may like because of the melody, or a solo, or just as a tune, may not have anything to do with the philosophical meaning of the song."

     That, more than anything else, is the truth about George Harrison's latest excursion into the material world. As he explained in his Los Angeles press conference prior to beginning the long tour, he just wants to be a musician again, to bring his music to people without being chained and bound by expectations. Towards that goal, he's surrounded himself with musicians of the highest caliber. Men like Tom Scott and Billy Preston are the finest examples of pure creative musicianship. 

    George tends to throw a lot of inside jokes into his albums. In fact, the inside of the album is a picture of George in Friar Park with Peter Sellers, but their backs are to the camera. They're quite good friends. The line "Leo, what say we promenade around the park," comes from the Zero Mostel film The Producers, one of George's favorite pictures, which he carries around with him on a video cassette. He's seen it hundreds of times, constantly quoting from it, and Monty Python, his favorite comedy troupe.

     On the liner notes, it appears that Pattie Harrison and her old flame Eric Clapton are the only backing musicians, along with an enigmatic performer. performer named Rhythm Ace, but as Tom Scott explains, that's not the case. "Rhythm Ace is an electronic machine that plays any rhythm: a boogaloo, a cha-cha, or a rumba. I suppose a lot of people will think it's a person. George decided to do that song by himself late in October when no one else was around. We'd all gone home. Pattie and Eric are not actually on the track. George just scribbled out those liner notes almost as he was getting on the plane door, and he hadn't slept from mixing down Dark Horse. When you're that out of it, you scribble whatever comes into your head. Clapton isn't even on the record. Let alone Pattie!"

Pop Star in Drugs Evil Warning (1986)

 Pop Star in Drugs Evil Warning

By Chris Logan

Coventry Evening Telegraph

July 17, 1986

    Pop star Paul McCartney warned young people today to stay away from the evils of drugs. McCartney, 44, who has been fined three times for drug offenses and spent nine days in a Tokyo jail, said youngsters would feel better if they avoided drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes.

     Interviewed on BBC's Breakfast Time, the former Beatles said, "I would warn people, particularly anyone who's getting into anything like heroin, which is a known killer, heavy alcohol, which is a known killer, heavy cocaine. Really, stay away from all of them quite categorically.

     McCartney, who once campaigned for the legalization of cannabis, then added, "I think cigarettes, alcohol, soft drugs, and so on, all up the line. Really, all of them are dangerous. The smarter kids are the ones who stay away from them."

     McCartney spent nine days in a Tokyo jail in 1980 after allegedly being found with cannabis on arrival at the city's airport. He has been fined for possessing the drug in Scotland and Sweden, and was fined in Barbados in January 1984 for possession. 

    McCartney told interviewer Selina Scott, however, that he has no regrets about taking drugs. "I am not going to stand up for or against it. I don't regret anything I've done in my life." But he agrees that pop stars should discourage young people from using drugs. He spoke as the government launched a £2 million  anti-drug campaign

The New Ringo (1971)

 

The New Ringo

By:  Adrania Grassi

Express & News

July 18, 1971

    If you want an interview with Ringo Starr, you have to play it his way. The former Beatles drummer won't talk about his past. He wants to build up a new image. 

    Now Ringo's in Rome shooting The Blind Man directed by Tony Anthony. Before the meeting on the set, the PR girl prepares you for Ringo. "He's extremely natural and unpretentious." That's what the PR girl says.

     The set is a Western town. At 1o'clock sharp, everyone breaks for lunch. There's a noisy little restaurant on the set for movie and production crew.  Ringo finally sits down at a table after washing his hands. He's taken off his heavy wool vest and the many little rings he wears for the part. First, he sends off his manager Mae to the bakery for his daily bread. He likes whole wheat, but the bakery's all out and sends a substitute. He lavishly butters it, then tops it with a great slab of Grier's cheese, and washes the whole thing down with white wine.

     But even with an empty mouth, Ringo doesn't have much to say. "I've been a vegetarian for 18 months, and my wife's been one for four years. I haven't noticed any change in my health," he says about the diet. 

    Then he answers a few questions about his career. "It's a challenge. I really have not acted before because I was never allowed to. I think playing a cowboy is every man's dream because it's a personality he thinks about in his childhood. At this point, I don't have to worry about being a hero in my hometown, but starting out as an actor, like trying anything for the first time, is difficult."

     For the role, Ringo has to learn to ride a horse and twirl a pistol. In fact, he still practices with the pistol, but he found the riding most difficult, especially with a big western saddle. He compares it to being on a rough sea. 

    "The whole role is a challenge for me," says Ringo. "I know how to make a funny face, but in this role, humor is out. I really feel hate and madness throughout my body. I'm deeply, deeply involved in the part."

     Ringo says he always wears a black opal ring, which is known to carry bad luck with it. He does it, he claims just to show how independent he is. 

    Definite future plans are unknown, but after The Blind Man is finished, he'll head back to London to cut a new album. About it, he says, "Obviously, you understand. They are all my compositions."

     There is no future movie plans either. "I am flooded with film scripts, but I haven't decided anything. First, I want to see if Blind Man is a success." The short lunch break is over, and Ringo is off to the set.

McCartney Inteview with Jamming Part 2 (1984)

 

Photos taken by Lawrence Blampied 
(The photos in the original article were tinted blue and washed out.  I used AI to turn them into black and white and specified NOT to change anything else.  If you would like me to send you the original photos that are blue -- please ask.)

McCartney Interview Part 2

By Tony Fletcher

Jamming Magazine

No 14  March 1984

Q:  Did you succeed in education?

 A:  No, not really. I think none of us put enough time in, really. We weren't that thick, but we always got reports saying "Could do well if only he'd apply himself ." The year of my GCEs, we were touring in Scotland with Johnny Gentle, which was one of the first big things we were offered. I had to miss my geography exam, but I just thought, "Sorry!"  We thought it was such a big opportunity, as it turned out it wasn't. Doing lots of dates with this guy, and if Johnny Gentle suddenly got famous, so did we. 

    I got some O levels; I think I got one the first year, then maybe a couple more the next. I stayed on into the sixth form because I didn't want to leave school; I didn't want to have to get a job. I wasn't having too bad a time at school. It was a bit of a hassle having to go there, but I didn't hate it too much. Also, I knew this fella who was 24 and at the art college, and I was about 17. The way I looked at it was that there was still seven years where I could lig around in the sixth form and go to art college. I thought I could put off the decision of having to choose what to do with my life.

 A:  A lot of the people who've made it big thought like that, "Anything but a job."

 A:  And the joke is you get a job, like the job I've got now, and it's a J-O-B. It's a real job, and I'm always trying to get out of it, but you know, I put in quite a lot of hours, it is a job. 

Q: What's the story about being chucked out of Germany? 

A.  Well, like I was saying before, we lived at the back of the cinema by the bog. It was like a broom cupboard with a push bar exit to get out, I think. So, anyway, this was 20 years ago. I'm trying to remember what the door looked like, you know. I never realized it was 20 years ago. I'm still talking about it as if it were yesterday. 

    Anyway, we were moving from this club, the Kaiserkeller, to a better engagement, the Top 10, and Pete Best and myself were getting all our gear together, and one of us had a contraceptive ---whatever you want to call it. So, just for a laugh, we pinned it up on the wall as a goodbye gesture. It was just a cement wall without paint or wallpaper, and I think I set fire to it, and it left a little black mark. But the fellow screamed, "Police!" He didn't want us to go to this new club, which would take his business away. So he thought "This is a good excuse." It was really just a harmless thing, but he managed to get us a nick. We were just going along the road, and the police pulled us over. "Hey, come visit us."

Q:   Was that the first time you were nicked over there? 

A:  Actually it was the only time until Japan a few years ago when I had a longer stay in there and more fun, put anyway. But anyway, the police dragged us to an official building where we hung around for hours, and eventually a fella came up and said, "Come with us, we're taking you back to the club," and no sooner said than done, we were on the plane back to England. 

Q: How much was Brian Epstein responsible for your success? Was he special, or could another manager have done it?

 A: Because he turned out to be special, I'd say he was special. You can't tell if another man would have done it. He wasn't a very good businessman. He used to undersell us, but we never wanted to be overpriced either. But I thought he was great. He was very keen, very showbiz. He was like we were saying earlier, just that generation before us. He may only have been a few years older, but there was a big difference. He studied at RADA, but he hadn't done too well there, so he had this great longing to be an actor. He was living through us a bit, but he would see to it that we had a strong stage act, or that the lighting was good. So, I think he was a big influence. We used to slag him off a lot, as you do with managers, but I liked him. I thought he was great

Q:  What was it like being one of the four most wanted men in the world by virtually the entire teenage female population in existence?

 A: Terrific, you can't deny it. We were four normal fellows.

 Q:  Did you take advantage of it?

 A:  Oh yeah, definitely. We had a great time. That's half of being in a group, or it was then. I remember my dad saying, "I wish I had such experience as you, son." We used to talk about that. He'd say that in his day VD was the big scare, but by the time I was older, they had a jab for it. It was definitely the biggest perk of touring. I can't deny that it was only later I started thinking, "Shit, I probably broke somebody's heart there." You don't think about that at first, but a little later you realize they're real people. But yeah, there were a lot of ladies about.

  Q:  What about drugs? Because even from the first stage, you must have been offered everything under the sun. 

A:  Well, it was cigarettes to start with, then scotch and Coke, and when we went to Hamburg, it was pills, speed. And then later we went to America, and it was marijuana, and that was about the size of it, except for a little bit of coke, for me, anyway. John, I think, later got a little bit heavier, but it came off being available everywhere. All the gangsters in Hamburg used to have pills to stay up all night, so used to give them to us. Predledin, they were called. "Zu vant, some prellies boys, yay ya schnatz und prellies?" They were just getting off on us silly Englishmen.

 Q:  Later on, though, after Beatlemania, when you were a studio group, did you not go through heavier stuff?

 A:  No, nobody got into heroin.

 Q:  But Sergeant Pepper was meant to be connected with LSD, is that true? 

A:  Yeah, there was a lot of LSD around at the time. It definitely got into the music; it was the fashion; it became what everybody was doing. You'd go down to clubs and people would come to you and say "You want some acid? You want to go back to our flat?" which you'd end up doing.

 Q:  In those cases you must have had heroin forced on you a lot.

 A: No, heroin was the one thing you drew the line at. 

Q:  And I've thought with you having experienced everything imaginable, you'd have said that there, What is there left  that we haven't tried?

 A: The thing is, we were like anyone who plays around with drugs; you play around with them. Actually, I'm not saying like anyone, because there are a lot of people who are very different, but our approach was: as long as it's not really dangerous, we'll do it. I think a lot of people overdid acid. Some of the people who took more trips still get flashes. They suddenly buzz without meaning to. I think we were very lucky with it, really. It didn't get to us.

 Q:  Did you see much of what went on around you? Because I imagine you had to be pretty well shielded; you couldn't just walk the streets on your own. 

A: Well, you could; that's a myth actually. I used to go around a lot, and I still do. If I want to, from here to over there, I won't do anything special. I won't panic. I'll just go out the front door. You'll be surprised. People may notice you, but what are they going to do? They're not going to jump on you. It's never happened. Even then, when we got to the gig, there would always be a gang of girls outside waiting for us. You expect that, but I've always felt that was just normal living.

 I've always seen pretty much how people are like now. I wouldn't know what goes on down at the 100 Club or anything. I see all the kids outside as I go past, but I don't know what goes on; half the people who walk down Oxford Street don't know either. So I don't know all the cult things, but what goes on generally, I've always been up with. I'm a little bit out of touch with certain things, like I sent a fella out to buy some scotch, and I didn't give him enough money, but generally I think I'm more in touch than some people. For instance, I was always against the Common Market, right from the off. People were saying, "Oh, you're so out of touch," but they were wrong. I was pretty in touch. Nobody that I know really digs the Common Market, not ordinary people like the milkman or someone. 

Q:  Why did it take four solid years before you moved away from simple love songs towards other stuff like "Sergeant Pepper"? Was that just the way lyrics went at the time? 

A:  I don't know, really. I never thought about it. I think the love stuff, you and me, boy and girl, was just the early part of the development to us. It was just the commercial songs, and we got hooked on little things like we always had a "me" or "you" or something personal in the title. "Please, Please ME", "Love ME do,"  "Can't buy ME love," "She Loves YOU," "From ME to YOU."

 Q:  but did you always mean the lyrics? 

A:  No, I didn't. I still don't always mean the lyrics. It's just not the kind of writing I do. They're not always personal, but sometimes they're just made up.

 Q:  So, what you were trying to do is just write a good song and say the words of the song, like "She Loves You" are going to mean something to someone?

 A:  Yeah, not all the songs were that, but that was the idea of it, writing something that people would want. 

Q:  Because I would say, though, that with that you were saying earlier about the amount of girls available, you couldn't have been in love much. 

A: No, you're right, but you don't have to be in love to write a love song.

 Q:  What records by the Beatles are you the most pleased with?

 A:  Being sensible? As a record, I probably like "Yesterday" that  and  "Here, There, and Everywhere", "Strawberry Fields", "Hey Jude", and some of the other big ones, but if you said "You can only take one," I wouldn't take "Hey Jude", because I've heard it so many times! There's a crazy B-side I like, "You Know, My Name, Look Up the Number." The B side of "Let It Be". I love that one. It's just an insane track. What I remember from the session, and all the laughs, we were just in pleats making that record, so that to me is one of my favorites. 

    Another is "She Said, She Said." I just like those more off-the-beaten-track tracks. That's how you used to choose material. We never do the big hits by the Shirelles; we'd do "Soldier Boy", even though they were girls singing to a soldier boy. We changed the words a little bit.

 Q: What about LPs? Does any one in particular stand out? 

A:   I like Rubber Soul, Sergeant Pepper, and Abbey Road. I listened to Abbey Road recently and thought, "Wow, that's good!"  I like the White Album as well. 

Q:  I know the official reason for why you stopped playing.

A:  What is the official reason? I don't even know that.

 Q:  I'm talking about why you stopped playing live. 

A:  That just happened. We did this one concert in America when it was raining with water coming in the amps, and we hated it. We did the show, but hated every minute of it. And then at the end of it, we were put inside this metal little van, and we're sort of clattering around in there, I think. As we were sitting in there, John and George just said, 'Sod this. ' But they'd been saying all this touring, we were just shattering ourselves, and I think that was when I said, "Sod it. I agree with you", that made three of us.

So we went into recording, we decided to just keep recording, and if anybody said, "When are you going to tour next?"We would say, "We're not sure." We weren't going to announce that we'd stop touring. We just decided to quietly pull out of it and get into recording more. Nobody knews that for a couple of months because we finished our live commitments. We were doing some recording and it looked fine. After a few months, people said, "Hey, wait a minute, when are you going to tour again?" Here, people said, "It looks like you've given up touring," and we said, "Well, sort of, maybe."

 Q:  The story goes that it was a pretty big thing when you stopped touring. Your next single, "Penny Lane / Strawberry Fields Forever", failed to go to number one for the first time since you started, and that was meant to be a direct reaction to your not touring.

 A:  I can't remember, really. It may have been that we were doing this quiet thing I was telling you about, and one of the newspapers said, "Are you giving up touring?" And we said, "Yeah," and that hit the papers, making it look like we've done it officially.

 Q:  Apple, widely regarded as your downfall, came about partially because of Brian Epstein's death, didn't it? Do you have.. do you reckon if Brian had been about, he'd have made things go more the way you wanted to?

 A:  I don't know. Someone else asked me that recently. The thing is, his influence had stopped a couple of years before he died anyway. His influence, like George Martin's, had mainly been in the earlier days. As we grew up into men rather than little boys, we started to want to make our own decisions a lot. So it might have been okay if Brian had been alive still, but you can't really tell. It might even have been more disastrous because he was changing as well. I don't think it'd been done any different from the way it was done. It was just like a tree growing. If it's going to grow right through this wall, it will. We did it all naturally, you know. You can only guess at what might have happened if we'd done it all another way.

 Q: Apple did go drastically wrong, though, didn't it? 

A: The thing is that with a company that's gone "drastically wrong", it still got over a million in the bank, so it couldn't have gone that wrong. Yeah, it went wrong, but not as much as you'd expect it to be bankrupt. It still got a lot of money in the bank, being the Beatles company, having the Beatles records, and having a lot of it. It's hard to explain, but there's all sorts of company laws. You can't dissolve a company. Don't ask me why, I don't know. 10 years and we still haven't sorted it out. You wouldn't believe the stories on Apple, that's the new Beatles story. Sometime, if anyone can get it together, but it didn't actually wrong. It didn't go as right as we wanted it to, like we wanted it to go smooth, never break up, make a lot of money, and be terrific, be good for people, be good for us, and everything, but it was during the time we were breaking up anyway, so it wasn't actually the company's fault, it was us breaking up within the company. There's still endless negotiations, still meetings in New York to try and decide the fate. 

Q: Do you know why you did split in the end?

A:  No, not really. The only thing I always reckon is you get teams of people, like a football team or something, and they go and do the big thing, but there's an inevitability they're not going to stay together. There's an inevitable breakup of a team, but the very nature that you're holding on. I think we kind of did everything, achieved all our ambition, cracked America, cracked the world, did everything we wanted to, and then somehow we just wanted to start to split it up. Someone would want to do a solo thing, and then in the end John started to get very strong with Yoko, and we started to get our own family things. We just kind of drifted apart, then it got to be bitchy.  

We were drifting apart, and therefore the business had to be sorted out. "That's mine. What do you mean?" That got very difficult, because Allen Klein came in and screwed us silly. 

Q:  You're the one who said from the start that Allen Klein's dodgy

A:  (In quite  sad acknowledgment) um

 Q: You were proved right by that.

 A:  Yeah, at first the word was that we were going to go along with him, because maybe he was bad, maybe he was good, but we should give him a try. So we started to negotiate this deal, and I said, well, the Beatles are a big act; they're not chicken feed involved. We can get a really good deal with this fellow; he's lucky if he can get 15%, but everyone was so keen for him that they said "No, give him 20%." So I agreed.  The idea being that we'd give him a trial, but during the trial run he said one thing to me, then I'd see another thing in the papers. So I started to suspect him, and at that point I tried to get out of it all, but everyone said "No, we're going to sign with him." It was the first time in my life I felt I'd been done the dirt with the other guys. I said to them, "This is very weird. This is the first time. We've been mates till now." But it was three to one. They agreed to go with him, and I said, "No, no way." So I started boycotting the whole thing, not going in, being on strike, and having go-slows, you know, anything I could to hold him off, and in the end it was proved. 

The worst thing I had to do, worst thing was sue the Beatles. I said, "No. I went to sue Allen Klein. I don't want to sue the Beatles, I haven't got anything against them."  They said, "But all these companies are in the Beatles' name. You can't sue Allen Klein without suing the Beatles." It was just the way it was legally set up. I had to, so that was a very tough decision. I spent a few months making my mind up whether to do it or not, but the result was that I either stayed with Allen Klein or did the suing. It was out of it. So I sued them in the High Court, and they looked at all the evidence, and there in it we proved that he'd been screwing us. Our side won, and the judge said something like, "This man, Klein, has the patter of a second-class salesman", so that blew him out a bit. All the other Beatles realized what he'd been doing, and they tried to get out of it. Then later they came back and said, "Thanks, we're glad you really held it all up." But at the time, when they didn't think he was wrong, I took some stick. 

Q:  Has he now got away with having ripped you off? 

A:  Well, this shows you how small-minded he was. He actually got $5,000,000 for managing us for a year. There's me trying to get him 15% and all that. Somehow he actually got paid $5. 000, 000 for one year's work, to which I said, "Come on, look at that. You're kidding. You mean this guy is straight?" Why wasn't it $4,700, 000?  How come it's such a round figure, and then he wasn't content to just take the 5 million and do something honest with it. What he eventually did was... He's just been in nick in America. What they did him for was selling sample records. He had loads of people peel the little white things off and sold them. He must have made a little profit on that, but that was the only thing they nicked him on in the end.

 Q: Do you believe any of those stories that Brian was murdered?

 A: No. I don't think he even committed suicide. It was just accidental. I mean, I don't know. Noday knows, not even the man who says he was murdered, Norma Phillips. It's Phillip Norman, really. I think it was just accidental, because he used to booze a lot, and he used to take pills a lot. I think the two caught up with him one night. He probably forgot he had taken them; he had so many drinks, started taking some pills, and if they were tranquilizers, he probably forgot how many he had. "I can't sleep. I'll have another." I don't think he particularly wanted to die, but we were a little bit removed from it anyway. None of us saw him, none of us found him. We just had to believe whatever we were told by the people in his house. I don't think he committed suicide, and I don't think he was murdered, that just fits in more neatly with recent sensationalism about the Beatles.

Q: The thing to sell that book, Shout, basically.

 A:  Yeah, this Albert Goldman, who wrote that book about Elvis, is supposed to be warming up to John, but seeing where he's at, you know what to expect. He's going to dredge up all sorts of things that he's going to tell us about John, some of which I don't even know. Generally, I think it will be pretty much bullshit. John's got a little heavier toward the end of his life. No, actually he cooled out totally towards the end of his life. Five years before he died, he wasn't on any drugs or anything; he was just totally together. But when he and Yoko first met, they were pretty crazy, so there may be little secrets from those days, but you always get those things. 

    "Beatles pissed on nuns" is one story, which wasn't true at all. All it was was we were staying in this place where you had to go down about five flights of stairs to go to the toilet, so sometimes we pissed out the window. Good old English medieval habit. And of course, what happened was one day, right down the road from where we were pissing, there happened to be some nuns. They didn't see us, but somebody did. The papers picked it up, and it went from being a joke to being a fact. All that hell-raising stuff wasn't half as bad as it was made out to be. 

John saying we were bigger than Jesus. It was just a small little quote out of a whole big interview.

 Q:  Wasn't it just a small quote in the Evening Standard, but The New York Times or something picked up on it and made it into a massive issue?

 A:  Yeah, they mean like John was really boasting about it, which he wasn't. He just happened to say it. It's just a manner of speech, but of course, the Bible Belt Americans weren't going to have that as a manner of speech. Thank you very much. They were going to have that as a major controversy. I remember some young 10-year-old kid banging on the window of our coach, "You blasphemous fiends!!" He was really possessed, like a little Omen kid. We really thought he'd get us.

 Q: What don't you like about Shout?

 A:  Shite as I call it? I couldn't believe some of the facts and the serialization in the Sunday Times, so I read the book. The trouble is, there are some bits of it that I'm not in that suddenly seem very believable, like a really good story. Then I'll see a fact that I know is not true, and I'll think, "Wait a minute, what am I doing believing these other bits about Brian Epstein's youth and John's family background?" I think there are certain facts that are quite fascinating, and certain things that it gets over that aren't too bad, but the crime of it is  for him to call it "The true story of the Beatles", and yet he never interviewed any of the Beatles.

 Q:  I didn't think it was too bad. 

A:  My problem is, to me, I come over as this very together guy, always got his finger on top of everything, the man with no problems, school, a doddle -- got  all the exams. This is the sort of image of me, actually; I had murder getting through exams, like I was saying about being on tour during the GCIs. I was like the kid who was getting the cane, just like John was, but he makes me the very shrewd, always going to succeed guy, and John is a kind of cute working-class hero. An actual fact, though, John was just as shrewd and ambitious as I was.  What does me in, is he adds to this image, I resent that, because I know I'm not that, and I know I've never been that.

 Like in the book, I almost kill Stu Sutcliffe. The way it comes over is that I used to really put Stu down, whereas in actual fact, I had a little bit of a thing against Stu, but that was for one reason: he couldn't play bass. I had a purely musical thing about it: "What are we going to do about a bass player who can't play bass?" The other great legend is Pete Best. Why did they get rid of this poor lad? Because George Martin told us "Your drummer can't drum. Get rid." What were we going to do? Try and pretend he's a wonderful drummer? We knew he wasn't as good as what we wanted in the group, so we got another drummer that we wanted. He was called Ringo. It had got to the stage that Pete was holding us back. You can't help it. There's somebody in the group who doesn't click, like Stu. Stu was a great guy, a lovely guy, and I didn't understand him. It's true. There's a lot of people in my life I haven't understood. I'm not the world's most psychic person. I make a lot of mistakes, and I misread people. I've read a lot of stuff about Stu since that I didn't know about. I was taking him all wrongly, but it certainly wasn't just me who was getting at him. Everyone had their little goat suddenly come out.  I was seen as the go-getter and the ambitious one in the group, and John's portrayed as the kind of nice guy who always falls into the situation. He has George standing there with his pectrum, always waiting for a solo. Now that does George injustice. There's a lot more to George than just this idiot waiting for a solo. 

Q: Paul is dead.

A:  That's right, I am an imposter, but the money's good. This mafia-style operation has been paying me to be Paul McCartney. As you can see, I've learned the history quite well, and I've got the accent just about off. 

No, what happened was a guy from our office, called Peter Brown, rang me up and said, "Paul, there's a rumor in America that you're dead. What do you want me to do about it?" And I said, "Is there Peter? Oh, really? Well, what can I do about it? Tell them it's not true." And that's how I done it. All happened over in America, so I didn't see it. I didn't hear about it at all. People were telling me all the DJs in America are building this rumor that's sweeping the country. They say "You didn't have any shoes on on the cover of Abbey Road, therefore..." But if you look at the photo session from Abbey Road, you see me sitting on the steps with sandals on. It was a hot summer day, so I took my sandals off to walk across the road. Now that's the truth, but the rumor was  it was the sign of a dead man. 

Q:  Did you mind it though? 

A:  Oh no, it was hilarious. There was nothing I could do. I just couldn't take it seriously. 

Q:  One thing that has been proved wrong by my meeting you is I always believed that the image of Paul McCartney these days to be true, the multimillionaire businessman surrounded by bodyguards and aides.

 A:  Well, how do you feel about it? It's incredible, but there's nothing I can do about it. They write in every single article they do that I make £20 million a year. That's the figure they have got hold of. I don't know where they got that from, but what am I gonna do? Write up to everyone and say "It's not true?" When I walk out of here, I walk in the street and on my own, not with millions of people. I've got an office, yeah, but so have you. Okay, mine's pretty ritzy, but I want to do it like that comes out.  But I honestly don't know where half my image comes from. If I tell you some of the true facts about how I live, I mean some of them are just too true, too far out, the true story.

 Q:  You mean down to earth?

A: Yeah, like Harvey Goldsmith came down once, and in his chauffeur-driven car, he saw my house and said, "No, no, keep driving. He couldn't live there; that must be just the little lodge house", because he believes that image too. Well, the thing with me is that you'd expect me to live in a mansion, but what I like about how I do it and how I am. One of my sources of satisfaction is that it isn't like that at all. Would you believe that I've got four kids and we live in a two-bedroom house? That freaks me out, whether it freaks you out or not. Okay, we're building a new house, and the kids are getting a bedroom each, which is what you'd expect. I mean, it's not going to be a mansion, because I'm not like that. You see, I've tried all that big lifestyle. I've had chauffeurs, and I hate being driven; I'm the driver, and I like to drive myself. I've had live-in couples, which I've hated, because they take over. It's like living with your bloody auntie or something. When I had that, I thought, "Bloody hell, this is worse than living with your parents." So I'm off all of that stuff. I don't do anything. 

The big thing I'll use my money for is really for jibs and perks. In other words, instead of taking a lousy flight somewhere on Plummet Airlines, I might hire a jet. I'll do that kind of thing just to make it more comfortable, and a bit of flash. Actually, it's not being flash, it's doing the practical thing, getting a really safe plane that'll get me down in half the time. That's the kind of thing I go for, you know. I'm not really into flash stuff. I'm not a jewelry man, or a house man. The kids don't go to private schools. Another reason that I'm quite proud of myself is that the kids, so far, aren't basket kids. They're really good kids. They're kids you can sit down and chat with; you can go out with the older one and find out her interests. They're just very normal kids. There's nothing snobbish about them. It's quite funny. I remember once thinking, "If I have a kid in their teens, there's nothing that would freak me out. Long hair? I wouldn't mind, because I've been through that. Crazy fashions?  I wouldn't mind, because I've been through that. And yet when my kid started going punk, I suddenly realized what my parents had thought about me, which is like, "Is that gonna mean she'll get onto glue or something?" That I'll sit up worrying about if I give her total freedom and say, "Yeah, go with all that fashion", is that going to mean I'm pushing her into heroin? Then I suddenly realized, "Oh God, I thought I'd never do this. I was going to let them do whatever they wanted", but in the end I found myself realizing, so this is how my parents felt, because one thing parents are all the time is worried, you can't help it, but it does mean you care. 

Q:  The kids must get a lot of stick at school, though.

 A:  They get it all. Yeah, but the thing is they've learned to live with it, because there's nothing I can do about it. What can I do? Unmake myself? Turn the video backwards? They are Paul McCartney's kids. All we do is just treat it real normal. I don't open fetes or anything at the school. If I ever go down there, it's just as a real ordinary parent. I buy my coffee for 10p at the school play, natter about school stuff. I don't feel famous. I know I am, and sometimes I'm proud I am, and all that. But day-to-day life, I like to be the way people are, just what I am. That's one of the weird things that does happen. Your fame destroys you. We started off with you saying, "What would you advise people?" You've got to watch that. You might get a bunch of money and think, "Now I've never allowed myself a bloody great car, but I would love a black Cadillac, so I'm going to do it."   A lot of people just do it for fun like that, but then you've got a black Cadillac, and you're a black Caddy man. You don't realize lifestyle, but it is.

 Q:   Are you pleased with all the music you've made since the Beatles split?

 A:  Not all of it. I mean, the obvious thing after you've been in a big group like that is, how do you follow it? I just went back to square one, got a little group together again, and we went back to playing small halls. So some of the music was done under a lot of pressure. Me trying to figure out what I was going to do, so some of it was a bit daff, but on the whole, looking back at how I've hung in there. Every so often, there's a good little record come out.

 Q:  Did you think when you did "Mull of Kintyre" that it would be....

 A:  That's huge? No, no way. I didn't even think it would be a hit. We did it in Scotland, in our barn, and pipers, who played on it, all had their cans of McEwans getting tanked up, and they all said, "Oh, this is a hit." Two year olds up to 50 year olds, they all agreed it was a hit, but we put it out at a time when there was a lot of new wave and punk stuff starting, and I thought that it was just going to get left out. It's funny, there's me in the height of punk putting out a Scottish waltz, but it was one of those records that just appealed to people. You can't tell what it was, but it just did.

 Q: The thing that I would say, the Beatles, while I wasn't there with the music, I can still listen to it and love it, thinking "This is timeless." But what you've done since the Beatles, I've never been able to get into. Do you think maybe as you've got older, you've written stuff, not as good?

A:  What  do you mean?

 Q:  or maybe of somebody who is older?

 A:  Yeah. Well, that would be true. The last thing I want to do is think, "Yeah, well, I did all my best stuff with the Beatles, and there's no way I can do anything good anymore." I'd have to take up gardening full time! But I think the public looks at it like that. "I've heard everything by the Beatles. Now I'm going to check out everything by Wings. It'll be duff in the comparison."  I think the Beatles stuff is better because it's a group, all that stuff we've been talking about, but I think there is stuff I've done since that is good. I mean, I've heard "Mull of Kintyre" myself, and you might not like it, but I thought, "Yeah, that's a good record."  "Band on the Run" as well.

 Q:  Maybe it's a difference that "She Loves You" sold to practically every teenager in Britain, and "Mull of Kintyre" to practically every housewife. 

A:  Yeah, that's what you'd think, but when you look at it, there was a million people who boguht that record. I mean, eight and nine year olds, that's the thing about it, it's a British record, it's got weird appeal, but even not going on sales, I think that one does something. The way I look at it is that I'm hanging in there. I couldn't possibly do the Beatles again. I couldn't keep up that standard. That was the Beatles, that was me riding with John Lennon. I think if you look at it now, you'd think, did the Beatles in a story, nothing, which I don't agree with. I think if you look and search a bit more, you'll find there is some good stuff in there that you might not get into until later in your life. So, really, you know, I've always thought of myself as hanging in there. My motto is "E for effort."

 And so the interview ended, Paul going off to finish some recording, me left marveling at how frank he had been. Whatever you think of Paul McCartney, hopefully this interview will have opened your eyes.

McCartney Tells His Fans Linda Stays in Wings (1976)

 

McCartney Tells His Fans Linda Stays in Wings

By Colin Dangaard

The San Francisco Examiner

July 11, 1976

    Paul McCartney wound up a block-busting tour of the US recently. A new $6 million minstrel.

     "I love it, I love it!" Paul said at the end of the Golden Road. "Before I came here, people were saying I was just another ex-Beatle, but now they've accepted that the new group these days is Wings. At last, the Beatles are history."

     McCartney also winds up a lot richer emotionally. He's sure he loves his wife, Linda, even if some of the fans showed they do not. "She got a terrific hate later letter this evening," He admitted. "Oh God! It was awful!"

     Said Linda, her arm in his, "I don't mind. I really don't. I just think it's silly for somebody to be involved with something they're not even living."

    Despite criticism from fans over Linda, Paul insists there was no question that she would be part of the group when he formed it 18 months ago. "Linda and I teamed when the Beatles split, and we've been making music together ever since. She was a natural for Wings, although she got a lot of flack, but now the criticism seems to be a thing of the past. Generally, people in the beginning did not want her. They would say, 'We don't like Wings, and we particularly don't like Linda.' Now, after a show, people don't say that. 

    "I think it works with Linda, and anyhow, I love her! And I put that down in writing. I commit my bloody self! I do." Then he said, "I don't know what it is about Linda and I. We never intended to hook up with a person and stay with that person forever. It's just the way it happened with us. 

    "Now we're always with our kids. We enjoy each other. We're not show business types at all, really. We may seem to be show business, but we're not. I see Liz Taylor and Richard Burton leaping around Africa and all, but we're not like that. We're not the party crowd. We like to sit at home, put our feet up, turn the telly on."

     He laughs the way a man does when he has just trucked 6 million new dollars to the bank, the gross from the Wings tour. 

    Then he adds, "But you never know, blimey, I don't know whether we're going to stay together. Neither of us knows if it's going to keep together."

     McCartney has no doubts about his marriage to Wings. "When you think about it," he says,  "the Beatles were together eight years before they made a record. Wings has only just started. We're still getting to know each other. 

    "I don't particularly want Wings to achieve the same stature as the Beatles. It's not what we're aiming for. We just want to produce good music, the type people like. If people like us as much as they like the Beatles, I'd be happy, but that's not our objective."

     Not since the last Rolling Stones tour has the US seen such sellouts. In Fort Worth, Texas, $8.50 tickets were selling outside for $50, and everywhere lines stretched and stretched, but, strangely, the crowds were not riotous. When Wings was due in Seattle, the police chief there immediately phoned his counterpart in Chicago, the city Wings had just left. He asked if 60 men would be enough to keep Law and Order at the concert. As a result of that conversation, he assigned 30. 

    The crowds were evenly divided between young married couples who remembered the Beatles tour and teenagers who came to look at a legend.

     Asked one more time if he thought the Beatles would get back together, McCartney mimicked the voice of Muhammad Ali and said: "The Beatles split in '69 and since then they've been doing fine, and if that question doesn't cease, there ain't nobody going to get no peace."

     This week McCartney begins a vacation, after which he will write more songs and plan another Wings tour.

McCartney Interview With Jamming Part 1 (1983)

 

Photos taken by Lawrence Blampied 

McCartney Interview Part 1

By Tony Fletcher

Jamming Magazine

No 13  1983

Interviewing Paul McCartney is not something an everyday fanzine writer (or in fact any journalist) tends to lose much sleep over. I mean, the man doesn't exist, or if he does, he's protected by millions of bodyguards and is totally inaccessible to the public. Wrong. The Jam and Paul McCartney happened to be recording their new album in the same studio back in January. With grateful help from Paul Weller, an interview with one of the world's most famous people was acquired. Quite simply, "Sure, do it tomorrow."

 Despite such a healthy start, I thought Paul would still be guarded, untalkative, and act the superstar he undeniably is. Instead, I chatted with one of the warmest, most friendly people it's ever been my pleasure to meet. It's very hard to get starstruck with someone like Macca when he is actually sitting on a sofa right next to you, constantly hitting you to force a point home. We had been warned countless times that Paul doesn't talk about the Beatles and doesn't allow photos to be taken, yet we did both without any problems.

 So, just for once in our lives, we have a bit of an exclusive. A lot of you might already have seen bits of this three-hour bonanza in the Sunday Mirror, but this is the full interview.

 Q: Did you ever think your life would be like this? Were you very ambitious at the start, thinking "I'm gonna make it as a star?"

 A: Oh yeah. When we were starting out, I remember standing at the bus stop where we used to live in Allerton in Liverpool, and thinking that if I won the pools, which was the only way you were going to get anywhere, I'd get a house, a car, a guitar, and an amp, and that was as far as I could see. To me, I thought that would cover it. 

Q: There hadn't been any big pop groups as such to set the way, had there?

 A: Well, the Shadows, but not really that big. No, we always used to have a joke, me and John saying, "Where are we going? To the top, Johnny!" It was only a joke at the time, but it set the direction and channeled our ambitions. Yeah, we're going to do it. We're going to get there. We're going to crack America. The great thing about us was we believed in ourselves. We could see that what we were doing was pretty good, but we never knew if it would succeed anywhere. We liked it. It's just we never knew if everyone else would like it.

 Q: So how do you feel now? Do you sit back and think, 'Christ, did that really happen?'

 A:  Yeah, I do sometimes, but then I'm still the ongoing story. Generally, I think it's amazing. I can't believe the success we've had, but for me, I don't sort of sit around as though it's finished. I still think it's going on, even if it isn't. At 70, I think I'll stick the same way. I'll never really stop to look at it all. I haven't even got a record collection of the Beatles. I think sometimes I must be mad. Why didn't I just buy a copy of every one as it came out and kept it?

 Q: Didn't you get given them?

 A: Yeah. I think I got one free one. I think that all the engineers and producers used to get off the record company a street salary plus one free record. If you look at EMI figures and tallies, tally it up with the Beatles sales, the company suddenly balloons like mad, and when the Beatles split, it suddenly takes a dive, but yeah, it's pretty crazy. It's that being Paul McCartney, I've always said in all the interviews that I feel about the same as I did when I was five. Inside, I feel the same. I've grown up and all these amazing things have happened around me and to me, but it still feels like I'm the same little fellow inside me.

 Q: I take it you always wanted to be famous, but did you ever want to be a god, which is what you are, or at least were?

 A: No, you never think of that, do you? That's the trouble with all famous people. You've got your dreams of a car, a house, a guitar, ooh, but you forget about the things like the press, you forget about people who automatically think they can take photos of you or come up to you and ask for your autograph. 

The thing is, though, that I was the kid outside the stage door. I used to hang around outside the Liverpool Empire when I was about 12 with short trousers (in  those days you didn't get long trousers until you were about 14). I remember getting the autograph of the Crew Cuts this American group, and I was just knocked out because they were great fellas, and they didn't tell us to piss off or anything. So, I've always tried to be like that with fans, with people, trying to realize that they don't mean you any harm. It's just they freak out when they see someone famous.

 Q:  Does that ever get too much? 

A:  It does sometimes. Yeah, like the other day, that thing in the Daily Star, I was just walking in to the studio, and there was a fellow there who was obviously going to take a photo, but as I didn't feel like having my photo taken, I just turned my back on him to make it obvious. He said, "What's all this? Hang on". And I thought, "If he's cool, I'll turn around, and he'll be all right, but if he's not, if he's a journalist, he'll be snapping anyway." So I turned around, and he was. I just turned toward him, blocking his lens, and pushed him over. 

Q:  Was his camera smashed?

 A:  No! No, nothing! But then he goes down to the editor, who says, "Oh, this is good. Somebody famous pushes a poor photographer over. Now, what happened? Did he punch and kick you? Well, we'll stick in 'punched' and 'kicked' anyway." So, it looks like I'm going around laying out photographers, and people are saying, "This is really great for your image."  (laughs) But that's the kind of game you get involved in. There is a downside to fame. 

Q:  Would you recommend to other people who want to be that famous?

 A:  I think it's okay to be that famous, but I think you've got to watch out for the things I'm talking about, because I think of the kind of people it freaks out the Marilyn Monroe, or whatever, a woman who's known for her beauty. When she starts to get old, she can't hold on to it, and the paper starts saying this, and people start saying that, and it gets to her head, cause until then she's only been coping with being beautiful and famous, but now she's coping with being ugly. You have to be ready for that kind of thing. The pressures are immense. (Lapse) Now it's not that bad. There may be a downside, but really, there are a lot of advantages to it. 

Q:  You look back on it all with a smile on your face.

 A:  Oh yeah, I think it's great. Absolutely, the advice is just to watch out for all the snakes ready to bite you, and all that stuff, but as long as you keep your head.

Q: It's not just all that fame with the Beatles, not the fact that officially you're the most successful songwriter in the history of the world.

 A:  Well, I don't know if that's true, but if it is, then that's great, because that's the kind of thing that you are working toward, even when you're 15, you think, "I wish I could write a few songs", so somebody telling me I'm the who's done in it most in the world is a slight freak out, because in fact what it is is I don't really believe it like other people do. I can't take all that in. I just think, "Yeah, I'm winning. This is great." I'm getting what I wanted, the prizes, rewards, and I'm shuffled. I don't really take it in.  I do sometimes think, "Wait a minute, I must have been pushing pretty hard to get this far."

 Q: When I was first, I (not able to read what this says) British teenagers to be affected by (not able to read what this says) affected by, and I was worried if that might have affected what makes the Beatles. For me all I can something as Beatles "Let it Be"was the last single on Top of the Pops, but for you it must have been really something because when you were growing up there was no rock and roll, then the next minute it was there.

 A: It was exciting. Yeah, it was amazing. Till then it had been pretty shabby, you know, "hits and pop" Frank Ifield kind of stuff, then suddenly instead of hearing records you quite liked and tapped your feet along to, you were hearing records where your spine was going tingly, that was the difference. But I suppose you must got that.

 Q:  Yeah, but the music has always been there for me.

 A:  I see what you're saying. You're probably right, coming out of nothing, the nearest was just sort of Johnny Ray, Frank Sinatra.... girls would swoon over that, they were called "Bobby Soxers", but that wasn't our generation, that was people just a bit older than us, and then suddenly for me it was just seeing a picture of Elvis in the paper, a little ad in the NME saying "Heartbreak Hotel". All the kids on our street were going. "Did you see that? Who is that?"

 Q:  Did your elders hate rock and roll, like saying, "Christ, what is this?"

 A:  Yeah, they worried about us all becoming hoodlums, because till then my crowd had been going down the straight and narrow. You do reasonably well at your first school, good enough to get to grammar school, then you were going to be trained as teachers or doctors. Trying to go down that path. George was like that. But the thing that freaked the parents out was when we started wearing our tight trousers and wrinkle pickers, blue suede shoes at school. You do your hair up a bit, and then they astonishingly thought that you were in a gang beating people up. They didn't see it as just a fashion. My dad got me a pair of new trousers, but a mate of mine knew a little tailor where we had them taken in, so I got home and my dad said, "Are those the same trousers you had on this morning?" "Yeah, of course they are." We used to have two pairs of trousers and change on the bus. You had to do all of that because you didn't want to get into an argument with them, and you knew that if you were going to go to a gig or something, you didn't want to wear your school clothes.

 Q:  You first met John in the Quarrymen at a fete in Woolton, July '57 didn't you? 

A:  Yeah, a mate of mine at school had said, "Come along and see this group, they're great." We used to go to the fair together with these great jackets with flaps here, light blue with flames on them. Whoosh! We really thought that was it. Go down the fair just at the age, you know, but I went to see the group and loved it. It was a young group. Instead of dance music, John was obviously leading this thing, he had an acoustic guitar, brown wood with a hole, rather an S shape in it, and a bit of a crew cut with a little quiff, a bit like yours. He didn't know the words for anything! He'd obviously only heard the records and not bought them, but I was pretty impressed. I met up with John backstage in this little church hall and just picked up his guitar, which I had to play upside down because I'm left-handed, and played "20 Flight Rock." They were all impressed because I knew the words. Then somebody played the piano, and somebody sang "Long Tall Sally", and later they asked me to join.

  Q: At what point, if there was one, did it occur to you as a group that there's something here, we're not just a bunch of kids playing in the street. There must be something good here?

A: At the beginning, we didn't really have much faith in ourselves. I don't think promoters were going particularly mad over us. We were just doing gigs and getting paid. We were always being beaten in talent contests by old ladies with spoons -- they always turned up! But then in Hamburg, we started to learn how to interest the crowd. We had to, because there was no one there to buy beer. 

On Fridays and Saturdays, we started to build up a decent crowd, and even in the week, we started to build it up, and that was the first time they started taking any notice to us in Hamburg. We got back to England, and though they still weren't paying that much attention to us, we'd learned our craft a bit better. Then it really started to take off at the Cavern, and we built up a great little audience there. So, in Hamburg, we clicked; at the Cavern, we clicked, but if you want to know when we knew we arrived, it was getting in the charts with "Love Me Do, that was the one; it gave us somewhere to go.

 Q:  When your type of group was going, it seems that the aim was to play every night from 1960 through about 1963.  You must have played at least 300 gigs a year. Nowadays, I suppose it's just changing times, you find that groups don't want to play every night. There's no point. It's better just doing one good gig a week. Was it something you always wanted to do? Saying, "We've got to play tonight, we've got to have a gig?"

 A:  It wasn't being physically hooked on gigging; it was just we wanted to do it. We wanted to get everywhere, have every newspaper write about us, play every single gig, earn money, get famous, and the way to do it then seemed to be to be you'd agree to every interview, photo session, or gig. But I do remember going up to Brian Epstein one day; we'd done a TV show called Thank Your Lucky Stars, and saying, "Look, we've got to have a holiday; it's going to our heads; we hadn't had one week off in the whole year." In truth, playing that much, getting that well-oiled as athletes or nothing else, was probably what pushed us so far. You revved your engine up to so much that when you let them go, you just coasted. 

Like in Hamburg, we played eight-hour days. Playing like that, you get to have lots of tunes, if nothing else. So, what we used to do, even on the five-hour stints, was to try not to repeat any numbers. That was our own little ambition to stop us going around the bend. That gave us millions of songs, even though we could only just get away with dumb de dum de dum dum for half an hour, we would shout  a title the Germans couldn't understand, keep ourselves slammed like" knickers." But eventually we built up quite a program. Hamburg was a good exercise, really, in commercialism. A couple of students would stick their heads around the door and we would suddenly get into a piece of music that we thought might attract them. If we got people in, they'd pay us better. That club was called the Indra, which is German for India, and we played at that, the Kaiserkeller, the Top 10, the Star, in that order. We nicked left, right, and center off other bands. There we'd see something that we'd like, and after they left Hamburg, they'd put it in our set. Well, you've got to, haven't you? We used to like going up and watching Tony Sheridan, because he was a little bit of the generation above us. Used to play some blues, really moody stuff. Essentially, we built up quite a program; we could do a lot of American R& B stuff, quite a bit of pop, and some ballads, so if you got stuck in a pub with a lot of old people, you could just pull something out of the bag for that.

 Q:  Did you always want to do that, though?

 A:  No, not really, that wasn't the side we wanted to do, but sometimes you were stuck, so we wanted to be the band that could cope with anything.

Q: I think of you lot in leather jackets, and imagine you'd have taken the attitude "We're going to play what we want, not what they want."

 A: In those days it seemed we'd give them what they wanted. We did ballads anyway, because somebody like Gene Vincent would do "Up a Lazy River" or "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", and that gave it the authenticity for us to do it. We did a couple of sappy things, because girls seem to like them. There was a stage when we got cabaret bookings, and when people there are pissed at 11 o'clock, you got to do "My Way" or else.

 Q: It took five years for the Quarrymen /Silver Beatles/ Beatles just to get a record out, which probably wouldn't happen now. Do you reckon that was good for you? That you really built it up?

 A:  If you're saying that being successful is good, which I would, though it's a bit dubious, then definitely not getting a record out for five years was good, because it's what contributed to all that we were. Separate for when it came that we really knew what we wanted to get on record, it was such a thrill being let loose in the studio that we almost ODd on it. We'd always wanted to be in the studio, and in the end we stopped touring because we loved it so much. Maybe what you're saying, though, I'd never thought about it. Maybe the reason being held back for so long meant that when we were let go we had all that pent up. 

Q:  I don't really think groups could do it these days. You must have been really dedicated to go through those five years.

 A:  I don't know. I'm not a part of it anymore. I don't really know how they do it these days. That's the truth. I don't know what the difference is. I always think if there's a good group, they will do it the same way we did. 

Q:  From what I heard, Hamburg was a pretty rough area. Was that an experience for you? Or did it come more natural being from Liverpool?

 A:  No, even though we were from Liverpool, we thought we were hard, but we weren't. We were pretty sheltered. None of us had really seen prostitutes, never really seen strip clubs. 

Q: Did you get into rocks or anything? 

A:  You tried not to, but sometimes... We'd all been living at home, and then suddenly we were in this little room with a tiny bed, and with the bog of the cinema, we were at the back of, right next door to us. It was just four cement walls, and we could smell the bog of the cinema. It was horrible, really cold. It must be pretty similar to under the arches at Charing Cross. It wasn't as bad as that, but it was that kind of change. That's how it started out, but obviously the accommodation got better as we got a bit wiser. We just asked. At first, it was pretty rough, but it was great. What more do you want if you're a fella and you're 17/18, down in this dirty part of Hamburg with all your hormones working correctly, and you're getting paid to be there? It was great!

 Q:  What about the clubs you played at? Were they pretty rough?

 A:  They were gangster clubs, although we didn't really know about that. It became obvious because they used to use gas guns, and they used to fire them off occasionally. The waiters used to use them when the customers caused trouble, as the waiters were all big bruisers; they were gangsters and all that, but they used to cry, big softies, really. But I find them to be the softest anyway, the hard nuts. They didn't have to act that way with us, because we were just a band; they knew we were a bit girls' blouses. We didn't get that involved, though. From time to time, you couldn't avoid it. 

Q:  You all that living together in Hamburg must have made you pretty close.

 A:  Yeah, that's why it was a bit horrible when we broke up in the end. We had got tight with each other. That kind of thing does tend to bring you together.   We'd be in a little Bedford van going on the motorway in the fog, and the windscreen would blow out, a stone would smash it, and it was so freezing with the windscreen out that we had to lie on top of each other, the four of us. It was the only thing we could do, just get a body heat sandwich, but you know each other after that kind of thing. So it was good that we could take the piss out of each other, bring each other down to earth, back to reality, and I think all of that when we were really going as a team. 

Q:  Why do you reckon was the Beatles' success? 

A:  I think it was because of all the stuff we'd been talking about. We practiced up a lot in Hamburg, practiced up a lot at the Cavern. We became the top group in Hamburg, or one of the top contenders, anyway. And then got back to the Cavern and became the top group there. Gerry and the Pacemakers were our big worry: were they going to do better? But I think it was all the practicing, all the experience, when it came to it. If you'd had one bad gig that might make some other group split up, we'd just go "sod it."

 Q:  Did you think it was anything to do with being the right group in the right place at the right time?

 A:  Yeah, I think it was a lot to do with all that too, but we made our own luck with all this stuff I'm talking about. You'd get all the other groups-- our style of group, and though it wasn't just we had to be in the foreground, our stage act was a lot of Shirrells, James Ray, Larry Williams, Little Richard, all the black American acts. It was all their stuff, so that separated us from everyone. All the other groups were doing Roy Orbison, the Shadows, or Cliff. 

Then we started off the black polo necks and suits instead of ties and stuff. It was a slightly different look; the hair was different. Brushed forward, that was Astrid, we knew her in Germany, one of her mates, Jurgen Volmer, had it, and he and John went hitchhiking in Paris one time when he had some money. It was his birthday, and he had gotten £100 off one of his rich aunties. Was unheard of £100  in those days. That's the thing about John: he did have a slightly more well-off family than any of the other people. He wasn't particularly upper-class or anything, but there was a bit more money in his family, and he would occasionally see it in the form of a birthday present. So we hitchhiked over to Paris, spent the time wandering about. I lost track of where I was here.

 Q:  It was about the haircut.

 A:  Oh yeah, so Jurgen was in Astrid. Fuck it. What was I talking about? No, probably was as well. Gerry, Astrid, anyway. Jurgen was in Paris on that trip, and we said, do us a favor, cut our hair like you've cut yours, so he did it, and it turned out different, because his wasn't exactly a Beatles cut, his was a bit like Paul Weller's, but sure fell into the Beatles thing that we didn't really start.

Q:  Did people think you were really original? 

 A:  Oh, they did! Especially the British newspapers. The impression that got over was that it was just us that we'd started it all. We kept saying, "But there's millions of people in art schools who look just like this. We're just the spokesman for it."

 Q:  You seem to be treated to an extent as rebels by the press of this country. Did you feel that too?

 A:  Yes, we just spoke out a bit differently to the normal people that had gone before. Traditionally, if you asked a showbiz fella about his views on Vietnam or something, he'd hedge and say, "Well, I don't really like talking about that." We'd just say, "We think it's lousy, the Yanks should get out." Then it was outspoken: look at their hair, look at the boots. We did have a bit of an effort. There weren't many people going around like us, so we stood out. That was all.

But, as you say, we were the first lot after the war, rock and roll, and all that, and it was different. It was probably the first time anyone had just owned up to being working class, because up until then actors and everyone had disguised their voices (speaking posh) in order to get plenty of work, they'd have a nice rounded accent. I can go for Shakespeare or (initiates Cockney), I can do the heavy stuff. 

Q:   You just said this is what we are

. A:  Well, there wasn't much choice with us. We were a bit the rebels, and John was the more rebellious because he was more outspoken. Anyway, I was a little bit the PR man because I knew somebody had to be.  Plus, it was a bit to do with my family. Ours was like, "Come on in, have a cup of tea", whereas John's upbringing wasn't so much family.  Though last time I said that, his auntie never forgave me, because she brought him up. She thought she'd done all right, and she did. She was great. She's a good skin. But he didn't have the close family thing, which made him a different kind of character.  The closeness of my family meant I took on that sort of role. 

Now, John was more an artist, a rebel, more obviously a Brendan Behan, Dylan Thomas character saying "fuck off, get out", which is great, because in the end someone would do that if needed. Saying it wasn't always John, George would often come out with it, or Ringo, or even me, but if there was a horrible (can't read word) in the room, it would be John who'd be most likely to come out with it, rather than just saying excuse me. He was a bit more direct. 

Q:  "Love Me Do" made the top 20, but would I be right in saying that in those days there wasn't so much music, therefore getting to number 20 didn't really mean as much?

A:   No, not really. I think the truth is, if you got in the charts in the top 30, no matter, it got you noticed, It made you a chart group. We thought of ourselves as pop stars, you were in the record business, now you could think about the future, because now you've got in and closed the door behind you. So we took off like a rocket after that and tried to capitalize on it.

 Q: The story goes that after "Love Me Do", George Martin wanted to record, "How Do You Do It" because it was a definite number one, but you demanded to do "Please Please Me" because you'd been in the charts. That you said "It's up to us".

 A: Yeah, we wanted to have the choice, plus we thought, "How Do You Do It", which became number one for Gerry and the Pacemakers was a bit of a cop-out. We had this reputation as a  Liverpool group doing all this R&B stuff. We used to like playing for the fellows in the audience, because they were the ones watching our fingers to see if we could play. Not putting the girls down, but for them it was all a bit "swoon swoon", and they didn't seem so interested in the music, so we used to play to those hard fellows who actually came up to us afterwards and asked "What was that chord?"

 Q:  How important was George Martin? 

A:  He was good. The first time he started to take over was with "Please Please Me." John brought it in as a kind of Roy Orbison ballad (sings real slow and soulful) "Last night I said these words to my girl, boom boom boom boom boom boom," and George Martin said, "Well, I think it's too slow, you should whack it up." We said, "Oh no,"

 Q:  It worked though.

 A: It worked, taking control immediately, and then he had a lot of control. We used to record the stuff and leave him to mix it, pick a single ...everything. After a while, though, we got so into recording we'd stay behind while he mixed it, watching what he was doing with the later albums. He started to have less control, but he always was a strong figure in there. He's done the new album. He's good, technically strong for a professional producer who knows what he's doing.  Occasionally we'd overrule him, like on "She Loves You", we end on a six chord (sings it) a very jazzy sort of thing, and he said, "Oh, you can't do that, a six chord, it's too jazzy." We just said, "No, it's a great hook, we've got to do it."

 Q:  What about George Harrison? Did you want to keep him away from songwriting? 

A:  No, not really. It was just that normally he didn't write songs.  He just didn't do it. When we came to do the first LP, we said we've got to get Georgia in, he sings too, and Ringo, everybody wanted their tracks. So he did "Chains" and "Take Care of My Baby", which were in our set. Then pretty soon after that, John and I wrote him one. Eventually, he started writing songs, but never that many. I don't know whose idea it was, but it soon became established that me and John were the main singers. It was just as well, in a way, too, because not putting George down, I think he and John were better singers. (Laughs) He said modestly.

Q: Were you pleased with the songs you wrote them? Because you became so big, you knew each single was going to be a number one, and it must have been very easy to stick to a formula.

 A:  No, from what I remember, we were just trying to improve all the time, trying to get another hit, but trying to do something totally different. I don't think we ever really went for formulas. If you listen to it all develop, we'd always be trying something different, like a string quartet or something crazy.

 Q:  I can never believe that the LP 'Please Please Please Me' was recorded in a day.

 A:  That was great. It was a real buzz.  I don't know how it got to be done, or who suggested it, but the reason we could do it, which is something I say to young groups now, was because we knew everything. We'd been playing the songs for months and months and months before getting a record out. So we came into the studio at 10, did one number, had a cup of tea, relaxed, did the next one, and did a couple of overdubs. We just worked through them like the stage act, and by about 10 o'clock that night, we've done 14 songs, and we just reeled out of the studios, John clutching his throat tablets.

 Q:  But it carried on that way, '64 through '65. You were doing world tours, yet still bringing out two LPs, four singles in a couple of years, as well as the films. All the others must have been done pretty quick.

 A:  We didn't hang around, that's for sure. On this new LP of mine, we've really taken as long as we'd liked, over a year, but that's just because I didn't feel like rushing it. But in those days, it wasn't a question of not having the time, it just took less time. We'd go in the studio at 10 o'clock in the morning, me and John would play the songs through to George, Ringo, and George Martin. We'd decide who is going to play what, and record it.

 Q:  Would you like to see it go back to that?

 A: I'd like to see me go back to that, let alone music, but you've got to have a group that understands each other to do that. I'm not working as a group now. I'm working with different individual people, so it has to take a bit longer. But yeah, I think it would be good because it's fresh. Your ideas are more instant. 

Q: You must have been selling a quite incredible number at your height.

 A:  Yeah, however it happened, the reasons were we got real practice. We really knew our shit. We knew exactly what we were doing, the effects we were having. We were getting a lot of gigs, working a lot, so there was no reason why it shouldn't work. It all just seemed to fit. As for the record sales, we just kept trying to sell more and more, trying to get another country, get America next. All these guys go to America, Cliff and the Shadows, etc. And never crack it.  So, what we did was get rather cheeky. We said, "We won't go to America until we've had a number one." So we just played around Britain and Europe, built it up until one day we were in Paris when the telegram came, "You've got a number one!"

 Q: That must have been a bit amazing.

A:   Yeah, we leaped about. What we had only dared to think, almost joked about had happened, and then no one could boo us, because we could say "We're number one." It was like being on a kind of yellow brick road, as you went down it, you were looking for fresh things to do. Yeah, we'll try that. Sure, they want you to pose for the Daily Express, swearing. These do it, yeah. We just kept trying everything. 

One thing that was very different from how it is now for us, for me, is it was very varied. We were used to doing all kinds of stuff in the course of a normal day. You might go and see a journalist, do an interview, do a photo session with someone, then you might do something that was totally unrelated, like a panel game on telly, or judging a beauty contest, or something. And then do a gig. We think "incredible." We must have been really desperate to do well. We must have been trying to prove something to someone.

 Q: Is there any word that can describe Beatlemania?

 A:  (long, long, long pause)  Manic, crazy. I don't know, any one word isn't enough for me. It was just buzz, might be the word for it, buzzing, but to me it's a bit of a haze.

 Q:  The whole thing about the Beatles is like nothing else in the world. When we were coming up yesterday on the tube, we were thinking "There won't be one person on this platform who won't know who Paul McCartney is." My parents can relate worldwide events to what record the Beatles had out at that time. That sort of thing is unthinkable to me.

 A:  (laughs)  It's crazy. Occasionally, I think things like that, but look at me sitting here. I'm a fellow. I remember we were in Scotland with the kids, and I was lying in some field, as is my want, and one of the kids, who was very little at the time, said, "Hey, Dad, you're Paul McCartney, aren't you?" And it brought it home to me. Oh, yeah, it's like catching yourself in a mirror. What? But the thing is, it's not really what you think of yourself as. I said to someone the other day, "I am normal." He said, "You're not, you know, whatever you think, you're not normal." And that's right, I'm not normal, because to be normal would mean I have to do all normal things.

 Q:  And you can't really claim to have had a normal life.

 A:  No, I can't, but I thought a better word is  "basic", not normal, but pretty basic

 Q:  (going a bit over the top here to try to comprehend the Beatles' success.) Beatlemania lasted something like four years, '64 through '67 which is as long as governments last, going from good to bad to good, etc. And I'm thinking that just in the past few days you've had your full page in the Daily Star. There's been a play on the radio, I'm hearing the records on the radio still, reading about your exploits in the gossip columns, hearing the Beatles mentioned in all types of interviews.

 A: It is incredible. It must have been about a year before John died that I saw him after we'd managed to get our relationship cooled out again after all the bitchiness. He said he'd heard someone say somewhere, "Be careful what you wish for, because it just might come true", and that's a very true case, because we really wished for all of this fame, and you know what, we got it, and it's crazy because we didn't really think we got it. People wish very hard to win the pools, and we wished very hard to be famous, as you say, go down the tube station, and everyone would notice me.

 Q: It's still just trying to emphasize it, that to someone who never lived through any of that, the Beatles are just about the biggest thing that ever happened to the human race, and yeah, it's crazy.

A:  I don't believe it. You get that feeling of disbelief, and I'm very similar. It's like, I know it happened, I know we got really famous, and I know, as you say, people will all know who Paul McCartney is, and yet I don't know why I'm still working as though I'm trying to make myself more famous; it's crazy. I don't know, but all I think is, well, it's my job, it's what I ended up doing in life, and I like doing it, so I don't see any reason to stop. 

At which the tape recorder uncannily clicks off, causing Paul to say that's not a bad way to end the interview. I mumble an apology and produce another C 90 from my bag, knowing we have to continue as we're only on to the mid '60s, and a few minutes later the interview is resumed. That will appear in  Jamming 14, covering all the pressures of stardom, Paul's image, the Beatles split, Allen Klein, Apple, Paul's solo music, Shout, and loads more. Yes, folks, we too deliberately spread the juicy bits over two issues, so you have to buy both episodes. Don't forget to ask your friendly Jamming dealer to reserve you a copy of Jamming number 14 featuring part two of this interview.