My Evolution Revolution of the Solo Fabs (Or Imagine Living in the Material World, say London Town, with Beaucoups of Blues) Part 4: Macca's Masterpiece

So, 1970 saw the release of the final Beatle album, Let It Be, as well as the first solo albums by each of the former Fabs.   

 

  (And, in Ringo’s case, two solo albums.)  Whereas McCartney was a solid, if somewhat uninspired and deliberately under-produced solo debut, All Things Must Pass and Plastic Ono Band were both unqualified masterpieces.  For new material, Paul was up first in 1971 with his first solo single, Another Day.  Essentially a reworking of the themes in Eleanor Rigby, the song is not bad, but hardly worthy of a McCartney A-side, especially when contrasted with the songs on his former band-mates’ albums.  For me, it’s the flip side, Oh Woman, Oh Why which, while probably not hit material, shows the rocking side of McCartney’s writing, and brings back a bit of the throat-crunching singing/screaming he’d done on Oh! Darling.

A week after the release of Another Day, Lennon came out with another of his anthems, Power To the People.  Once again containing an easy, sing-along chorus, Power To the People seems considerable more political than Lennon’s previous anthems.  Eschewing, for the moment, his pleas for peace, Lennon flat-out states that the people should rise up in revolution, which, I guess means that at that point and time, you could count Lennon “in”.  As a song it’s a good reflection of the times, but not much more than that.

Ringo’s first single is up next, and, as first singles from the Fabs are concerned, it’s the best.  (Harrison’s first single, My Sweet Lord, had broken the Beatle tradition of not releasing songs that were on their albums, which the Fabs’ themselves broke with Abbey Road and Let It Be.  This restriction, of course didn’t apply to the U.S. albums, where the Fabs had no control of what and when something was released.)  With it’s instantly recognizable guitar opening, Ringo’s It Don’t Come Easy is pretty much perfect Ringo and has remained his theme song.  The flip side, Early 1970, is an open love letter to his former band-mates.  Each former Beatle gets a verse, with McCartney’s including an interesting invitation.  Since Ringo had played drums on both Lennon’s Plastic Ono Band and Harrison’s All Thing’s Must Pass (and Harrison had played on Lennon’s Instant Karma as well as both sides of Ringo’s single), Ringo’s line “And when he comes to town I wonder if he’ll play with me” is Ringo offering Paul an olive branch, which Paul would eventually accept. 

And then came Ram.

The album had me from the first line of the first song, Too Many People, where Paul sings, “Piece of Caaaaaaaaake!”  Of course I later learned that while the intent was for we laymen to hear “Piece of cake” what McCartney really is singing is “Piss off, cake”, the first two words being the opening salvo, in lyrical form, directed at Lennon.  Tired of the three 

ex-Beatles vs. one dynamic, and upping the anti in the war of words he and Lennon where exchanging with each other thru the press, McCartney let loose his feelings for all the pop-buying public to hear, albeit in rather covert lyrics, which would require a bit of work from the listener.  If that listener were someone other than John Lennon, of course.  Lennon understood every veiled jibe.  And some.  

(While his lyrics were perhaps cryptic, the photo on the back of Ram’s album cover was anything but.  There’s really no mistaking what Paul meant with the picture of two actual beetles, um, not mating nor making love, but rather more you know what-ing each other.  It was, and remains, a pretty depressing photo to see on the back of Paul’s first classic solo album.)

If one had to say which was the most acerbic Beatle, I think the unanimous response would be Lennon.  But Too Many People shows that Paul could muster up a bit of the snark when he wanted to.  “Too many people preaching practices/Don’t let ‘em tell you what you wanna be”  takes dead aim at both John and Yoko.  Likewise “You took your lucky break and broke it in two”.  Pretty much the whole song is a cleverly disguised dig at his former partner.  It’s also a damn good song.

I know 3 Legs seems a rather more obvious reference to the other 3 ex-Beatles, but, to be honest, if it is, it’s cloaked really well.  While Paul convincingly says otherwise, it’s easy to see Dear Boy as written to John.  And while John was sure that the final lines in the album’s last song, the classic The Back Seat of My Car, were also a dig, Paul and Linda harmonizing on “We believe that we can’t be wrong” just fits so well within the context of the song that, even if it was a line specifically about them, Paul and Linda were singing it to everyone, and not specifically Lennon.  Or so I think.

As I mentioned, Ram, on first listen, became, at the time, my favorite McCartney album.  I’m glad I didn’t get that Too Many People was aimed at Lennon right away, because it is the first, in what would become a staple on McCartney albums; a cracker-jack opening number.  I think that, perhaps, had I known it was about Lennon, it would have had a negative effect on me, and I wouldn’t have loved it as much as I still do.  Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey had a single release and got quite a lot of airplay, and was a definite hit with my friends and even my brother, who loved to sing along with Linda as she gargled “water.”  When listening to the album, I always love anticipating Monkberry Moon Delight, a song I didn’t understand, but also kinda did.  (Whatever that means.  Understand?  Thought so.)  Another fav was/is Long Haired Lady, simple, and lyrically light though it is.  A great deal of its appeal is Linda’s middle-eight part, where she delivers with a wonderfully sarcastic tone: “Or is this the only thing you want me for?” Indeed.

Which brings me to Linda.  

She’s one of the crucial elements that makes Ram so good.  Her presence is all over the album, adding a wonderful humor and warmth that is hard to resist.  While she would be an integral member of Wings, Linda was never featured as prominently on a McCartney album again.  That’s understandable because the critics were far from kind, both to the album in general and to Linda specifically.  

Critics be damned, Ram is a great album, not inspite of, but because of Linda McCartney.  (There, I said it.)  

RAM ON!