By Giordano Durante

The unprecedented nature of The Boys of Dungeon Lane, Paul McCartney’s latest album, is best appreciated in numbers: this is the Liverpudlian musician’s 20th solo studio album and he recently celebrated his 84th birthday. From 60s mop top to OAP, from teenage heartthrob to bizarre collaborations with Michael Jackson and Kanye West, an oratorio and a ballet, McCartney seems unstoppable but one approaches this release with apprehension. First, does he have anything new to say and can he find fresh means with which to say it rather than recycling or pastiche? Second, how can a reviewer coming to this music for the first time hold back from unfair comparisons with his youthful Beatles era? How can we listen to it on its own terms, without expecting something on the same level of inspiration as Revolver?

The album has a strong start—‘As You Lie There’ is almost two songs with different characters stitched together: the first, quirky and in a documentary style, and the second a much more energetic, rock number with distorted guitars. McCartney’s gift for storytelling survives, it seems, as does his knack for playing different instruments: he plays organ, percussion, piano and guitars on many of the tracks.

His voice, though appealingly battle-worn (gone is the sweet youth of 1963!) is not enough to save the next track ‘Lost Horizon’ from being unmemorable but things improve with the single ‘Days We Left Behind’: a vulnerable, nostalgic look back to his childhood that has an anthemic air to it; the ‘Dungeon Lane’ in the lyrics and album title is a road in the Speke area of Liverpool.

After this percussion-free interlude, ‘Ripples in a Pond’ throws us into in a different and more assertive world; there are some unpredictable shifts of tone and direction which show there’s no aversion to risk but the music is blandly contemporary.

With 'Mountain Top’—harpsichord and lyrics about the fairground, stars, butterflies, and magic mushrooms—we’re happily flung back to the trippy, toy box psychedelia of ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’ and ‘Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds.’

‘We Two’ is a true surprise—there is always an artistry even in the simplest of McCartney’s songs but, with the next track, ‘Come Inside’, the music is once again lacking in interest—its chorus and ending are, to my ear, too easily achieved.

Another highlight is ‘Never Know’ with its haunting opening, effective backing vocals, and some ‘The Fool on the Hill’-like recorder tidbits. ‘Home to Us,’ a duet with Ringo Starr, the only other surviving Beatle, has a striving sadness to it—it’s catchy in the best sense with a suburban  melancholy reminiscent of the Brit Pop of Oasis and Blur (who, in their turn, were weaned on the Beatles!) I mean, look at the tenderness of: “The lady on the hill was drinking brandy / Eating caviar, the perfect host / My mum was in the kitchen washing dishеs in the sink / And then she burnt thе toast.”

A jazzy, almost Parisian strain can be detected in ‘Life Can be Hard’ and the lush night music guitars of the winningly eccentric ‘First Star of the Night’ will stay with me. While ‘Salesman Saint’ transmits the music of the American deserts and plains, it lacks focus, but the album ends on a fine note with ‘Momma Gets By’, a typical McCartney narrative ballad which holds one’s attention with its backing strings and neat emotional build up despite not being particularly enthralling melodically. This music is heartfelt and honest.    

There are many fine moments during this album’s 47 minutes. I want to return to them and note those little details that can be missed on a cursory listen. As McCartney enters his mid-80s, he can still surprise and charm us with an unusual chord change, or a clever line. As he continues along a more modest experimental path, his strongest work remains that which looks back with longing to his past and evokes it with compelling musical storytelling or when he dips into cosy psychedelia—in other words, just what he was doing so well over 60 years ago. Even though I’ll probably skip the weaker tracks, the four or five standout ones (I was already humming away to ‘Home To Us’ after just two listens) make this an album that will be on repeat for some time to come.

About this series: In this series, we’re going to live with an album for a week. I’ll listen to it on repeat as I walk up town, do shopping and wait for my daughter. I’ll let it all sink in so it becomes the soundtrack of my days…and then I’ll write about it. Expect variety: I’m passionate about classical and jazz but will also be revisiting my favourite albums from the last 50 years from the Doors to Suede and even new releases. Hopefully, with affordable streaming services, you’ll do the same and encounter unfamiliar music you will grow to love, or disagree with, or simply ignore.