Wings' Wild Life: a fresh view

Now that Get Back has made armchair psychologists of Beatles fans the world over, we can appreciate Wild Life that bit more. It’s stressful enough spending the best part of eight hours watching Paul McCartney attempting to get George Harrison on a roof; imagine what it was like living it for a few weeks. Seeing how frayed The Beatles had become gives us an insight into Paul’s early solo work that onlookers at the time lacked.

Wild Life is a world apart from Paul’s previous band. In a fantastically rebellious move, he defied expectations by making Wings’ debut a raw, brilliantly sloppy and human album that sounds a lot like freedom. The sequencing is unapologetic, starting with the wild one-two of Mumbo and Bip Bop. You quickly realize the key to appreciating Wild Life is being on board with its feel and attitude from the off. Here’s a man lauded for his melodic suss communicating by way of grunts, groove, silly voices and feedback rather than exquisitely crafted hooks and arrangements. And it’s an absolute blast.

Love Is Strange follows, Paul and Linda’s reggae-flavoured take on Mickey & Sylvia’s 1956 R&B hit (written by Bo Diddley) that reveals plenty about what was on heavy rotation on the McCartney stereo. It helps dispel the myth that Wings couldn’t play - sure, they were under-rehearsed, but Danny Seiweirs drumming here is a thing of nuance and laid-back wonder.

After so much sweetness the lumbering grunge of Wild Life is unsettling. The relentless doom-plod of Paul’s bass and the demented limits to which he pushes his vocals, the placid, Lennon-ish backing vocals - it’s an incongruous mix. It’s a feral, hypnotic dirge that sees Paul find musical kinship with the Neil Young of Tonight’s The Night.

Some People Never Know is a melodic masterclass (that dizzying middle eight!) that begins as a letter of devotion to Linda before a shift into a defense of their love, presumably to John Lennon, whose public barbs, both in song and the music press, had hit Paul hard.

I Am Your Singer emphasises the importance of music to Paul and Linda (“When day is done, harmonies will linger on”). For a period, all they had was each other - though this song might appear slight, its lyrics speak of the trust and devotion between them.

Tomorrow follows, perhaps the best song here. Still, the emotional tug of the verse melody alone makes you wish Paul had taken more time with the arrangement. It’s a sunny-sounding song with a surprisingly anxious lyric - a fretful Paul pleads with his love not to let him down while he puts his faith (not all that convincingly) in the escape the future offers. Allowed more time to breathe, its greatness may have shone a little brighter.

Wild Life’s last song proper is its most obvious nod to Paul’s deteriorating relationship with Lennon. Dear Friend feels fraught and hurt, Paul ricocheting through confusion, exasperation and attempts at reconciliation with his former writing partner over minor chords and doomy orchestral clangs, evoking the tight head and jangled nerves of stormy emotional weather.

All the things Wild Life was once disparaged for - its spontaneity, untidy corners, looseness and indifference to expectations - are reasons to cherish it, and it’s never sounded better. Turn it up loud!

Record Collector - 3/2022 (Jamie Atkins)