McCartney at 76

The buzz accompanying the release of Egypt Station (Capitol), Paul McCartney’s first No. 1 album in 36 years, proves that fans and critics have finally grown tired of having grown tired of him and that McCartney has finally reconciled himself enough to creating what he creates best—charming, textured, irresistible pop—to forgo trying to prove himself an ace dabbler (in symphonies, in electronica, in singles by Rihanna and Kanye West).

The album could’ve been stronger though. At 57½ minutes (i.e., a dozen minutes more than McCartney was averaging per album during his ’70s heyday), the regular edition wears its overgrowth on its sleeve. No rock star, after all, not even a dazzlingly talented ex-Beatle, peaks at age 76. And the “exclusive” Target edition is seven minutes longer.

The good news is that the difference between the losers and the keepers is so stark that committed fans will have no trouble trimming Egypt Station down to a consistently enjoyable long player that’s the same length as, and considerably better than, Band on the Run (the album).

The running order of Side 1 (pretend it’s vinyl for old times’ sake) would go as follows: “Opening Station” (a brief and harmless instrumental), “I Don’t Know” (a gentle facing up to the human inadequacies that afflict even rock stars), “Happy with You” (an acoustic love song doubling as a rock star’s fond farewell to marijuana), “Who Cares” (a taut rocker advising one to ignore “what the idiots say”), “Confidante” (a somber farewell to a relationship gone sour), “Hand in Hand” (a melancholy love song), and “Dominoes” (the thematic inverse of “Confidante”). The instrumental emphases shift from piano to guitar and back, the melodies have roots in the Beatles and Wings but sprout pleasantly surprising offshoots, and few if any of the lyrics sound like what the idiots say.

Side 2 would begin, as all Side 2s should, with a change of pace, in this case the electronically salsa-fied Latin-American romantic fantasy “Back in Brazil,” and continue with the inoffensively silly rock love song “Caesar Rock.” Next would come “Station II” (see “Opening Station”), followed by “Hunt You Down/Naked/C-Link,” a medley that’s one minute longer and only a little less rousing than “Band on the Run” (the song).

The album (possible title: Maybe You’ll Still Be Amazed) would finish with “Get Started” (the hookiest song of the bunch, with a “Foxy Lady”–like coda to boot) and “Nothing for Free” (an electronically funkified and just-coherent-enough-to-be-funny refusal to succumb to a “foxy” lady’s charms). They’re only available on the overpriced Target edition, but better to pay for that than the inevitable and even more overpriced posthumous box set on which they’re most likely to appear next.

This ideal running order would require the excision of five Egypt Station tracks. The first to go would be the carpe-diem recycling “Do It Now” (the kind of musical mediocrity that used to end up as a seldom-if-ever played B-side). The second would be “Come On to Me,” a one-dimensional singles-bar scenario. The third: “Fuh You,” an embarrassingly coy attempt by McCartney to prove that even a Cute Beatle can write naughty.

The last two: “Despite Repeated Warnings” and “People Want Peace.” The former is an awkward, protracted allegory comparing global-warming skepticism to a recklessly sailed ship. The latter suggests that McCartney really should spend more time pondering the Chi-Lites’ “There Will Never Be Any Peace (Until God Is Seated at the Conference Table).”

Happy pruning!