Showing posts with label magazine article. Show all posts
Showing posts with label magazine article. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 30, 2026

Ringo Starr 36 Years Old and a Pop Star (1976)





 

Ringo Starr — 36 Years Old and a Pop Star

The drumming ex-Beatle held a press conference in Copenhagen
 By  Arve Strømsether

The Nationen 

October 9, 1976


    Ringo Starr, ex-Beatle, ex-film star, ex-record-company director, but still a singer, was in Copenhagen last week to promote his new LP, Ringo's Rotogravure. After the Beatles broke up in 1970, Ringo has been the one of the four Beatles who has had the hardest time retaining his popularity. As is well known, he has no great singing voice and little talent as a composer, and just being a drummer isn't exactly something people would normally want to hear about.

    He has certainly made a number of successful records, but these have been more characterized by his skillful musician friends than by himself. It was therefore a somewhat exciting prospect to attend the press conference in Copenhagen. Can an old Beatle still attract attention?

    Well, it must be made clear right away that there is nothing in the world like Ringo's small talk. I sat for almost an hour listening to the famous star drummer, who was witty, sarcastic, irritated and cheerful in turn, answering all kinds of questions, whether they concerned the Beatles' past or Ringo's future.

    The first questions were not particularly original, but nevertheless very topical:

Will there be a reunion of pop's most popular and influential group?

"No, why? It would be a catastrophe. When we were together, it was fun, and I sincerely think we added something to music. But today we are all different and occupied with our own things. We are still good friends and meet regularly, but there will be no permanent cooperation. We have played, and will continue to play on each other's records, but that's all."

    Ringo becomes irritated that every time he holds a press conference, he spends 20 minutes explaining something that could be said in three or four words. He sincerely wants the Beatles kept far away and is more interested in his own career.

"With my new LP, I hope I can now make people aware that I can still produce music."

With some help from others, a cheeky journalist interjects.

"Yes, I am first and foremost a drummer, and that is not music, but rhythm. I can play a little piano and three chords on the guitar, and I am dependent on other instrumental help. I like to play drums, sing and write songs. Arranging and production can be left to others."

    How was the new LP made?

    "Very scattered. The songs were mostly ready in the spring, but they were recorded during the spring and summer. This was because the musicians I wanted to use weren't available."

    You don't have any particular problems getting top musicians?

"No. I am very nice [laughs], and I think people understand that. There is a certain prestige in being allowed to play with him. But there is also another reason: Years ago, all the groups were bound together by a sense of togetherness."

    Do you think it will be difficult to get some of them to work with you?

    "I hope not. It depends on whether people have time when I need them. Most of them have their own groups."

Speaking of concerts. During the Beatles' time, there were many concerts, but despite this, there was never a record released of a Beatles concert. In recent years bootleg records have flourished, and some of these contain very good concert recordings. What does Ringo think about something like that?

    "That's something I have nothing to do with."

    Allan Williams and “King-size” Taylor claim they have recordings from Hamburg with good quality?

    "Yes, I heard something about that. They called me and asked whether 200 million dollars would be a suitable price. I haven't heard the tape, but as far as I remember, the recordings weren't good enough for anything to come of it."

    What does EMI have in its possession? Can you or the others control it?

    "What EMI has in its possession, I or the others cannot control. It may be possible that they will release something."

    Do you like the reissues of the old Beatles records?

    "Not so much. I think it is exploitation of the public, all the time finding things that are on other records. The only one that was a little fun was the reissue of all the singles. I don't think I or the others can do anything about it.

    "John and I disagreed about the choice of material on Rock 'n' Roll Music. No one wanted to listen to our suggestions. John offered to make another cover because the one that was used was too bad. But they weren't interested in that either."

    Since Ringo hasn't made much music since the breakup of the Beatles, the Nationen reporter asks about his musical activities.

    "Music is most of my life. I have acted in some films, and although that is fun, I am known as a drummer. I am going to make ten films next year, but whether I can say anything more about that, I don't know."

You have directed a couple of films. Would you like to do it again?

    "No, I don't. It is too demanding and requires too much work in too many different areas. I am not suited to organizational work."

You have also been a furniture designer?

    "That was eight years ago. I made a whole lot of nice furniture in glass and steel, but it was too expensive."

Couldn't you have made your own records?

     "Yes, I suppose I could have, but since the distribution agreement was with Polydor, it didn't make much practical sense."

What do you think of your new LP, Ringo's Rotogravure?

    "It is the best one I have made. There are good songs, good music, and it is a nice product, and I hope other people think so too."

Is this the only way the Beatles will come to play together?

    "It is."

In England, pop artists are treated harshly by the tax authorities. Several of the country's major artists have had to leave the country to avoid the tax pressure. This applies to Ringo Starr as well. Was his move really worth it?

    "I would gladly have stayed, but I simply couldn't afford to pay 53 percent of my income in taxes. Would any of you do it?"

Now you are living in Monte Carlo and seem to be enjoying it?

    "Yes. The only thing that bothers me is that I can't get to England and see my children for a year."

A politically interested journalist asks why Ringo, who has such great influence, couldn't enter politics and try to change the situation.

    "I am a musician, not a politician. I would rather play than talk nonsense, and then I leave. That doesn't mean I don't care about the country. What is worse for Mother England is that both doctors and teachers are fleeing from there. It is no wonder the pound is falling."

The questions rain down on Ringo, jumping from one subject to another. The aforementioned subject concerns The Beatles Tapes, which George Harrison made a legal attempt to stop. Why?

    "It was a rather [topical/current] record, where the interviews were made for the press conference, or one-man show, as you might call it. "[The exact wording here is difficult to read in the scan.]

At another point Ringo is asked about the Rolls-Royce matter:

“For my part, I don't deal with that anymore. Otherwise, I thought about using Rolls-Royce parts as heaters, but the factory didn't think much of that idea.”

One of the last questions concerns Ringo's imitation of Kojak.

Was that an attempt to attract some declining attention?

 "It was an experience every man ought to allow himself at least once in his life. I did it to shock Nancy [Ringo's then companion/fiancĂ©e]. Besides, I did it because I wanted a change. My hair has benefited from it too."

But the reporters have now asked enough. Only one question remains, and it will be given to the person who has not yet asked anything.

A modest woman's voice calls out:

“What about when you are 64, Ringo? Will you still be a musician?”

 “If you'll still feed me, 64,” says Ringo with a crooked smile, and leaves the room with a trail of autograph-hungry journalists following him.

Sunday, July 12, 2026

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.

Wednesday, July 8, 2026

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.

Thursday, April 16, 2026

Brain Damage Control (2009)


 Brain Damage Control

By Paul Krassner

High Times

2009


    When Phil Spector was sentenced 19 to life in prison for the murder of actress Lana Clarkson, I had a flashback to 1971 at the Everson Museum of Art in Syracuse.

     I was a guest of John Lennon and Yoko Ono for the celebration of Yoko's show, This is Not Here. The Videofrex, a counterculture video commune, was there to shoot a documentary titled, You're Not Here, Yoko 

    Nancy Kane recalls, "We were all going up for the opening, which would be jammed because John Lennon and Ringo Starr were going to be there too. And it was true.  In the crush of people, there went Ringo. He was being swept past us into the main gallery. There he goes, "Hi, Ringo!", he was gone, but we could play our video as much as we wanted to. There he goes, "Hi Ringo". There he goes again, "Hi Ringo."

     It was, in fact, Ringo's birthday, [sic] and I found myself sitting on the floor in a large room where a group of friends and associates sang "Happy Birthday" to him, and then "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands" with each individual singing a chorus. The Women's Liberation Movement was flourishing at the time, and I sang, " She's Got the Whole World in Her Hands."

     Later, I was about to enter another large room with John and Yoko. It was quite crowded. As I walked through the door, Phil Spector stood up at the far side of the room, pointed at me, and shouted,  "You killed. Lenny Bruce!"  I was stunned. Lenny and I had been close friends, and I was the editor of his autobiography, How to Talk Dirty and Influence People.  

    Rather than ratchet up the sour vibe that  Specter had just created, I immediately turned around and left the room. John and Yoko ran after me, apologizing profusely for Spector's insane outburst.  A A couple of years later, at the A &M recording studio, he pointed a gun at Lennon, chasing him through the corridors. 

    That incident at the museum wasn't the only occasion I've been falsely accused. I was also accused of being an accessory to an attempted assassination of Andy Warhol by Valerie Solanas, author of The SCUM Manifesto (SCUM =  the Society for Cutting Up Men).

     Warhol cohort Paul Morrissey said in a 1996 interview with actor Taylor Mead that in the spring of 1968, "Solanas approached underground newspaper publisher Paul Krassner for money, saying, "I want to shoot Olympian press honcho Maurice Grandis." He gave her $50, enough for a .32 automatic pistol."

     Actually, she asked me to lend her $50 for food, which I did, sympathizing with the anguish of a poor pamphleteer. But that was on Friday. On Monday, I took my four-year-old daughter, Holly, out for lunch. On the way, we bumped into Valerie just a block from Warhol's loft. We talked a little. Then Holly and I went to Brownies, a vegetarian restaurant.

     Minutes later, we were seated at a table, and Valerie walked in. "Do you mind if I join you?" She asked. " Yeah, I do mind, actually, but only because I don't get a chance to see my daughter that often." "Okay, I understand," she said and left. 

    Five hours later, she shot Warhol, seeking revenge out of the paranoid belief that he had ruined her literary career. Valerie could have bought the gun with that $50, but if I had known that her intention was to kill Warhol, I might have been able to talk her out of it. Then again, she could have shot me and Holly right there in that restaurant. What do you mean? I can't join you for lunch. Bang, bang. That easy. That's horrible. That's absurd.

Tuesday, March 31, 2026

Paul McCartney Breakout Interview (1983)


 Paul McCartney Interview

By Neil Tilly

Breakout Liverpool Music and Arts Fanzine

August/September 1983


    AIR studios, partly owned by George Martin, is situated in the middle of London's Oxford Street, 50 yards from Oxford Circus Tube. It is on the fourth floor, high above the masses, where Paul McCartney is recording his new LP. It was in the restroom that we were to meet. The room looked more like an airport reception lounge containing a coffee bar, pool table, video games, and scores of exotic plants.

     So here I was waiting to meet Paul McCartney, a legend who, with The Beatles, changed the face of modern music like no one has ever done since. He entered, wearing jeans and a short-sleeve shirt, looking a little tired after recording. Paul McCartney has never been idle. As well as working on a new album, he has recently been turning his hand to a spot of acting for a yet-to-be-released film called Give My Regards to Broad Street. I asked him how the film was coming along. 


Paul:  Great. We just finished the main bit. We started in November last year and worked on and off until a couple of months ago. It was a big change for me. I did A Hard Day's Night and Help! and enjoyed the setup of films. It's like a fantasy world, but a lot of hard work is involved. 

Q: Do you intend to make more films? 

Paul: If this one works out. I think it's working out. I feel good about it. And I didn't even mind getting up early, which traditionally musicians don't like. It was great actually seeing the dawn again. I still prefer music, though.

 Q:  Do you ever think your music will dry up? 

Paul:  I always think about that from time to time. It's like asking an athlete or a footballer about his sport, and he'll say he'll go on till he stops enjoying it. It's a cliche, but it's true. I don't actually think it will dry up. I always wonder if it will, but I don't think it will. I will probably be trying to write songs on my deathbed. 

Q:  Is it as much fun now as it was in '64?

 Paul:  No. It could be because it was a new thrill then.  That's why I like filming because it's a new experience.

     I've seen music come from four-track to 48-track and more, and it's made it not as much fun. I don't mean that it's hell on wheels or lousy, I just mean that it's not as much fun as four lads traveling down from Liverpool, about to shake the world, as they say, up in Mathew Street. 

    But you can't possibly get that back. I don't think you could recapture four lads coming down from Liverpool, seeing the music scene, having a bit of success, then more success, and doing so well. I'm now 41 and have four kids, so it's a whole different thing. It's not so much of a novelty now as I know what I'm doing. It's like the thrill of going to Butlins for the first time. It's not as much fun going back there as an entertainment manager, but I still love it. 

    Yesterday, I had a shout up because the pace we work at is so slow. Before you can even get a 48-track tape up, the engineer has to spend at least an hour to find where he is. In the early days, we only used to work with four-track, and we would record an album in a day. I think the record industry is overproduced, but it's like looking back at old money and saying 'a pint used to cost three pence.' That's the past. You can't recall all that. The true answer is that it could not be as exciting as the first Beatle buzz, because that had never been seen before. 

    People of England didn't know an English act could do that well in America, because, you know, all the great English stars like Cliff and the people before him, the Frankie Vaughns and all those, and the comedians like Arthur Askey, and going right back, hardly any of them made it in America. They were always second best. And for us to actually go and take over was something you can't repeat, but I don't want to give the impression I'm having a lousy time. Now, it's just different with four kids, this whole other way of working. Now, it's interesting on another level. 

Q: A lot of people compare Breakout with Merseybeat magazine. What to remember of that?

Paul: Well, we were there when Bill Harry started Merseybeat, and for us, it was just great to have anything, in truth, anything that was going to put our picture in it and mention us, and actually, we could put ads in it and have laughs. So for that, Merseybeat for us was great. And I'd say for the groups of today, having something like Breakout is great. Breakout is more professional. Well, actually, the cover is, but inside, it isn't. They didn't look typed like all the fanzines look now, but I think it would be great. 

    If I was just a young group in Liverpool, or not even a group, just a poet, or anyone just vaguely sensitive, or however you class people who like these sorts of things. I think it's great having this kind of stuff. as for comparing it with  Merseybeat. It's like comparing a brown shoe with a black sandal. There's probably a world of difference in your attitude. Really, we used to think it was kind of funny Merseybeat, really, because it used to have articles like, 'Take a Look up North', because no one looked up north. And they used to tell us off for swearing on stage and drinking and eating cheese rolls on stage. And you thought, you know, 'What's wrong with that?' I mean, we're hungry, you know, and the fans don't mind. That's what they've come for: lunchtime sessions. So we used to have a Coke on the piano. It was only Coke, wasn't even booze, but they used to say this was 'highly unprofessional' chewing on stage, so it was a little bit granddaddy 

Q:  We were kind of amused by it, really. It wasn't serious.

Paul: But actually that was one of my pleasanter memories, that is that all the fanzines then weren't serious, not like they are now, I pick up papers now, and there's kind of you know, it's like, it's all a bit like Rodin's 'The Thinker.'  Like everyone is thinking very deeply about it. We weren't. We were just having a bit more fun. I don't see music as that serious. I think it occasionally gets very serious, with something like 'Give Peace a Chance,' 'Stopping Vietnam.' That's bloody serious, and good luck to it. And if it gets serious, great. But when you're just singing something like Flock of Seagulls, stuff, it's just songs. It's just 'Love you baby' really, in a way, I think it's just best to look at it for what it is. Instead of getting serious.

     I remember having a joke on the sax player once in Germany. My girlfriend at the time, sent me this Yevtushenko, the Russian poet, poems. And it was all a bit heavy, you know. And we weren't really into it. We used to pose a little bit with all that stuff-- pipes on the top deck of the buses, and think we were Dylan Thomas students and all that. So she sent me Yevtushenko and we were sitting in the dressing room, and the sax player came in, and we didn't really know him very well. He was from Hamburg, so we were all kidding that we were really into this. And I was going 'and the flesh that creeps...' I can't remember the poem. It was all dead serious. He tiptoed in, and he thought we were like for real, having a poetry reading. And he thought we were like that. Anyway, we were actually taking the piss. So he crept in, he unpacked his sax very quietly, and he crept out, and we just peeped ourselves laughing, because that was it. We were really sending up that attitude, and I still prefer to send up that attitude, although I realize that, obviously, at times you just can't be flippant all the time. 

    But I think that just being deadly serious about everything is dulling. There's a famous case of some fella in America who had some terminal disease, he discovered that vitamin C and a lot of laughter was a cure. He brought films into his bedroom, like Laurel and Hardy, and he got cured. I mean, I don't know how true it is, but I tend to believe that sort of thing; a laugh is really good for you. And I think that some papers these days get a little bit serious. 

Q: What do you think of the redevelopment of the Cavern site? 

Paul:  Rubbish. They should have never pulled it down. It was the most manic move. And the one man who did it, and it will have been one man too. That's how these things all happen, one burk on the council ---and I didn't know who he was. I mean, it would be interesting to see what the vote was, three to seven or something, just these three people. But somebody must have said it would really be a great idea to have an underground railroad coming this way. 'It doesn't matter about the Cavern.' I think there was a bit of an attitude going round at the time, which is easy to foster, which was, well, 'the Beatles left us. They hate Liverpool anyway, or they deserted us.' We used to get it out of that.

     I don't care if someone's got to live somewhere else. It doesn't mean he hates Liverpool, not for me. Anyway, there were millions of fellows before us who went to live in Shrewsbury or joined the army and went to Aldershot. We never used to go, 'Oh, he deserted us.' So I think a lot of the people at the time, maybe the council, were thinking, 'well, sod it. Who needs the cavern anyway?'

     And what's happened is that you get all these tourists turning up saying, 'Where is it that the Beatles were?' So you get the Cavern Mecca people and stuff trying to keep a little bit of that going. I just think it was a stupid move to close it down. They could have easily kept it. They would have certainly used it for this Garden Festival. They could have stuck a big thing up and said, 'Come on' and charge 50 pence a go, or something --  Like everywhere else in the world, Disneyland, Graceland.... Instead, now they're having to go round all our old houses and do that trick, whereas it could have been much easier to leave it all in Matthew Street, and they could have had 'Eric's.'

     I don't know. I don't know all the entire politics of it all, but it just seems to me stupid. And the final irony seems to me that now they don't need it. There's a car park now wherever the underground was going to be. Now they're trying to excavate it, and it'll cost them much more.--typical bureaucratic crap, you know, where they fill in a thing, and now they're excavating it, spending millions. Now, they found a pothole in the Cavern, and they've got a little boat in the water. So I heard, and there's a bank or some big building society putting money in, and they're going to recreate it downstairs. I think it's stupid myself. I'd rather just see all that stuff go, I mean, I don't want to go down the Garden Festival because it's happening, so it's best to get behind it.

     And I suppose, because otherwise it's just a waste of money. But the things do annoy me, you know, because I just think surely you could spend the money better, and somewhere like Liverpool, where you've got so many people who need a break. Instead of all those statues they put up, I'd rather see them put up one plaque. 'This is where they're from', or something. They could stick a plaque up on the Victoria one. That's where we always used to be, you know, up in the city center. I always said that, you know, first they want to put statues up, then they don't come up, then they don't want the people to pay for it. I think it's stupid. I think they're much better things they could do, but you have to have a touch of class and a touch of genius to know all this see -- and they haven't got it. Those counselors, whoever it was who filled the Cavern in, are just not bright, just not smart, I tell you.

     Since we came down from Liverpool and seen all this business stuff going on, I've met so many people in high places who are not smart. It's terrifying, actually, stuff. They're not how you think they are, you know? Well, maybe people nowadays know. I think they know better. Now, we used to have an image that the President of America was a wonderful man-- that was at the time of JFK and stuff. There was a little bit more reason. And then Nixon comes in and blows the whole thing sky high. And no one can believe Reagan. They'll have Frankie Avalon on next. You just can't believe it anymore.

Q: There has been some talk recently about you and Ringo playing together in the summer. Is there any truth to that?

 Paul: No, that's just paper talk. I read that just the other day. It's not true. I suppose it could happen, but we haven't thought about it. The newspapers just made it up. 

Q: Knowing now what you know about your life, would you wish to have changed anything? 

Paul: Generally no, but yes, specific things. If I had known John was going to die, I would not have been as standoffish as I was. You know, people are in relationships. If someone tells you to piss off, you say, 'Well, piss off yourself.' Then you just don't realize that there may be pain. And it's very hard to say Jesus' thing, you know, --- turning the other cheek.

     Okay, you can tell me to 'piss off', but I still think you're great. If I knew John was going to die, I would have made a lot more effort to try and get behind his mask and try and get a better relationship with him. As it was, I think I did have a pretty good relationship with him. When he started slagging me off, I was not prepared to say, 'well, you're quite right', because I'm human. Nobody would sit there and be called  Englebert Humperdinck and say, 'Okay, fine. I think you're right.'

     I just turned around and said, 'piss off'. Had I known it was going to be that final, that quick, I would not have said that. It was only after John had got killed that I realized at the age of three, his dad had left him, but I never knew how much it must have hurt. You take things on their face value and sympathize, but you don't really get into it. John's life was tough and weak. 

    He was not the big 'working-class hero' he liked to make out to be. He was the least working-class member of The Beatles. Actually, he was the poshest because his family almost owned Woolton at one time. All that doesn't really matter, but he did have a rather tough upbringing. His mum used to live with a fellow he was not that wild on, and his mum got knocked down outside his house. And before that, his uncle died. He had a lot of personal tragedies, and then he got married and got a divorce, and he did not know how to relate to his son. So after he died, I could see and say, No wonder what we used to argue. When you live and relate to people day after day, you don't look into all of that until something as final as death happens. 

    That's my regret, really, where I see now what I could have said, 'listen' and put my arm around him. He might have told me to piss off as well. It still goes on. That's the terrifying thing. George and I had a barney last time we talked. It's incredible. After all we have gone through together--- it's madness, really. I find it weird, but that's life, all the other stuff, what we did musically and the fame bit, I don't regret. It has its advantages and its disadvantages.

 Q: Do you get a chance to listen to much music nowadays? 

Paul: Yeah, I listen to the radio mainly. I hear bits and pieces in the studio. I hear a lot through my kids as well.

 Q: What about Liverpool bands?

 Paul:  Really, I've only heard Seagulls and the Bunnymen.

 Q:  What do you think of them? 

Paul:  I think they're all right. The Seagulls seem very commercial. The Bunnymen seem not commercial, but have more integrity-- until he took his shirt off on the Top of the Pops. I thought, 'Oh, dear me, come on.' It just seems silly. There's nothing wrong with taking your shirt off on the Top of the Pops, actually, but it just seemed a bit posy. I'm like the Cutter anyway. I think their stuff's good. It's interesting. The Bunnymen are, like -- we were when we were just getting on. It's a very exciting period. I like the freshness, and you can tell there's an enthusiasm. 

Q:  Would you prefer to visit Liverpool more regularly if you had the chance? 

Paul:  I do have the chance, and I do visit, but I don't visit as regularly as I used to, because my dad is not alive. I still go up to see my brother and other relatives. I'm up at least once a year, usually a lot more than that. As a city, there is not a lot there for me anymore. The time I was there, I met up with my actor friend Victor Bernetti. [sic] We were going out for a drink. We were driving around Dingle. I was showing him where Ringo lived and where my mother used to work. And then we got on to the brow and zap --- it had all gone. This old fella in a wheelchair said a quote which summed it all up. He said, 'Oh yeah, they pulled it all down, and they're not putting anything back up in its place.'


     At this point, we finished the interview on a point which proves Paul McCartney still cares about his native city, and he knows his native city still cares about him.