This series of re-recordings could be the key to why Band on the Run it's tighter than most McCartney records: Forced to revise from memory, McCartney essentially gave his songs a second draft. He saved the creative spontaneity for the recording, working well with Linda, Laine and Emmerick. He later recalled, “It was really nice to lose so much weight after the other two band members decided they didn't want to come out.”
Band on the Run It lacks the detours and loose ends common to McCartney's records without sacrificing its quirks. they're there, they're just being used as a talent. At just nine or 10 tracks—the American version, which is the one included on this 50th anniversary edition, brought the hit “Helen Wheels” to the second side—it doesn't wander, nor does it wander into foreign territory. The songs can be broken down into three familiar McCartney categories: There are sweet acoustic reflections and soulful rockers, as well as elegant showstoppers that combine these two sounds. McCartney pulls off some tricks he pioneered with the Beatles, taking snippets of songs into a mini-suite à la Abbey Road and closing the album with a reprise of musical themes in a way that resonates Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. There is a critical difference between these discs and Band on the Run: Although Tony Visconti's orchestral arrangements of perennial hits “Band on the Run” and “Jet”—written in just three days—create the illusion of a studio tour, the album actually captures the sound of a small combo that's inventive. with meager tools in hand.
To that end, the “Underdubbed” version included here—a rough mix created by Geoff Emerick after everyone got home, previously buried somewhere in McCartney's archives—is instructive. Initially the absences are glaring, especially on the tracks sweetened by Visconti. Without the orchestrations, “Band on the Run” and “Jet” might seem incomplete. Indeed, “Nineteen Hundred Eighty Five” contains no lead vocals at all. It's not a finished product, but a functional mix, one that nonetheless captures how Wings interacted as a band. Stripped of the gloss, Band on the RunIts quieter moments seem to be a natural heir to the messy rustic beat Wildlife. It also becomes apparent how much texture Linda's analog synthesizer adds to the songs, creating a charming drive on “Jet” and adding a creeping sense of foreboding to “Two Hundred Eighty Five.” Laine acts as sympathetic support, weaving his guitar with Paul's and blending his harmonies seamlessly with the McCartneys. When he trades lead lines on the gorgeous “No Words”—a fizzy reminder of mid-'60s guitar that's his first Wings record—there seems to be no distance between him and his married bandmates. He's not an interloper, he's part of the crew.
In a sense, this is what McCartney has longed for since the days of the Beatles' decline: to return to the early days, when being in a band had a sense of adventure. His amazing reputation created an inherent power imbalance when he started Wings, but so far Band on the Run, he had a pair of players who knew and accepted his idiosyncrasies. He had no backing musicians, he had a group with a distinct character, a band captured on record under an extremely difficult set of circumstances. Paul McCartney is definitely the driving force behind it Band on the Run—distills its gifts as any album could—but Wings' peculiarly warm, loving camaraderie is why it's endured through the decades.
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