Tom Dunne's Music & Me: The joys of rediscovering Paul McCartney

After hearing the news that Linda had breast cancer, he resolved to carry on recording. 'You either go to bed and never get up,' he said, 'or you just carry on. This is carrying on.'

Paul McCartney at Cork Airport in 1971 with his late wife Linda, daughters Heather and Mary, and the family dog. Picture: Irish Examiner Archive 

I’ve met McCartney, I’ve interviewed him and I’ve seen him play live in The Cavern. Given my youthful years that last one is some achievement. But somehow up to the recent re-release of his 1997 Flaming Pie album I’d never heard the track ‘Heaven on a Sunday’. Hearing it I wondered how I had lived without it? And, given that I am a fanatical fan of his work, how on earth had it escaped me?

In my defence I would point out that 1997 was the year of Radiohead’s OK Computer and The Verve’s Urban Hymns. My mind was elsewhere and Macca’s solo work was both voluminous and hit and miss. At some point you sensed he’d become disconnected. I had misfiled this one under ‘disconnected'.

So I was surprised when I saw it was getting the ‘Archive Collection’ treatment. His archive series is quite spectacular: coloured vinyl, outtake CDs, photos – everything you’d want bar alcohol for a spectacular night in. The most expensive format, mind you, would set you back €600, but €20 for the basic double CD would get you in the door. Was Flaming Pie, I wondered, worth even that?

Initial indications were good: The re-released singles 'The World Tonight' and 'Young Boy' were surprising strong, focussed and lean. “His head is in the game,” I thought. But then it reached that later tracks like 'Heaven on a Sunday' and 'Great Day'. I listened and the world gently stopped spinning. 

“My, my, my,” I thought, “what on earth have we here?” Investigations began. Macca’s road to this album turned out to be an interesting one. He’d been heavily involved in the Beatles Anthology Series, the long overdue release of the Beatles studio outtakes. Their release was quite the event, not least because it involved a ‘lost’ Beatles track, finished by Paul and produced by Jeff Lynn.

It had put him back in Beatles world working again with George, Ringo and George Martin. He emerged from this world, apparently, determined to once again try and reach those heights. Happily the world he emerged into was now also quite pro-Beatles in a way it hadn’t been in a long time. Britpop was raging and at the centre of all things ‘Brit’ was a new love and appreciation – driven in huge part by Oasis - of all things Beatle.

He was also positively disposed to the idea of working with Jeff Lynn. To many Beatles fans this was quite jarring. To them, Jeff and ELO were Beatles apologists, a sad pastiche of Beatles glories. But they were wrong. Lynn, as evidenced by his work on Tom Petty’s Full Moon Fever, was a production genius.

The ducks were in order. And then the earth shifted under Paul’s feet. During the very first session with Lynn, he got news that Linda, the love of his life, had breast cancer. He resolved to carry on recording because he couldn’t think of what else to do. 

“You either go to bed and never get up,” he said, “or you just carry on. This is carrying on.”

 The album marks many landmarks. He was 55, a lot closer to ‘when I’m 64’ than ‘she was just 17'. He was back with Ringo. It would be the last time George Martin would produce a string arrangement for him. But more than anything else it would be the last album Linda would sing on.

'Heaven on a Sunday' was one of two songs he wrote for Linda after the diagnosis. It contains one of those signature Macca gifts, a gentle sense of melancholy and longing suffused in the most incredibly uplifting melody. It is sad and uplifting at the same time. It is witchcraft. It is Thom Yorke.

I have long marvelled at how he does this. The songs often seem throwaway, light, and disposable like 'Junk', or 'Little Lamb Butterfly' or 'Blackbird'. On this album songs like 'Souvenir', 'Calico Sky' and 'Great Day' strike you almost as doodles he writes while waiting for the bigger songs to arrive . And yet.

The out-takes are remarkable. One - the demo of 'Great Day' - dates back to 1972. Linda is present. You can hear the love in the air, the fun, the domesticity. The Archive Collection is a very worthwhile project. These albums are like time capsules of our lives and his. Indulge yourself, go back. And have a good cry during 'Heaven on a Sunday'. Beautiful.

How I saw him in The Cavern: A tale for another day.