The idea was to have the original sign. The photo of the signage worn by time and the sea breeze that marked Dungeon Lane, the alley in Liverpool that opens towards the River Mersey and gives its name to Paul McCartney’s new album.
However, when the people in charge of the task arrived at the place, they noticed that there was no signage at all. “There wasn’t any, it was stolen,” says Sir McCartney in a promotional interview for the album. So instead, one was reconstructed. That is the one seen on the cover of the work available from this Friday the 29th on digital platforms.
And although the past is no longer in the form of urban signage, it does persist in much of the album’s material. A look back, at the twilight of life that, nevertheless, exudes optimism. And more importantly, it shows that McCartney has not lost an ounce of his ambition.
The Boys of Dungeon Lane, looks back without resentment. It adds a collection of images from childhood and adolescence in a Liverpool devastated after World War II, but also alternates with the voice of the mature man that Macca is today at 83 years old.
The album surprises right away with a recitation. McCartney’s voice in the first minutes of As you lie there sounds like the story of a grandfather reminiscing about an old lost love in the thickness of time. “I used to walk past your house/Every night/I looked at your window/The light was on/I saw your silhouette on the blind/Do you think of me?” is heard.
That was one of the first pieces McCartney worked on with the album’s producer, Andrew Watt (Ozzy Osbourne, The Rolling Stones), and the result is remarkable. It seems to be a song going in one direction, but then it turns and transforms into a more energetic track, with saturated guitars.
There is another key to the album; we can hear McCartney singing in an aggressive mode, surprisingly fresh considering his age, but the wear of time is also noticeable. He allows himself to show vulnerability without complexes, for example in the beautiful acoustic song Days we left behind; a song that talks about the days when he took the bus to go to the Liverpool Institute. At the next stop, a skinny and lanky young man named George Harrison would get on. The song conveys that touching nostalgic vibe.
Likewise, that song shows how McCartney handles certain musical languages to his liking; Days we left behind can be related to other acoustic fantasies of his signature, like Jenny Wren or Calico Skies. It can even be traced back to Yesterday or Blackbird. That is, it is a song format he knows very well.
The acoustic guitar also runs through Down South. A song with a Nashville flavor in which “Macca” recalls the days of hitchhiking with George Harrison and John Lennon. Probably the most nostalgic song on the album, recalling the gang spirit so typical of youth. That youthful impulse before being The Beatles, when they were just some boys excited about rock n’ roll. “It was a good way to get to know each other/Before learning Twist and shout,” he says in the eloquent chorus.
Nostalgia also sneaks into family images. In Salesman Saint, McCartney talks about his parents, Jim and Mary, the “salesman” and the “saint” respectively. Basically, it is a song in which he thanks them for their resilience, for their ability to raise a family in a difficult environment, amid hardship. Symbolically, it opens with a trumpet sound, the instrument his father gave him at 14 years old, but which he later exchanged for a guitar. The nods to big band music are not accidental; a reference to Jim’s taste for old-school jazz (he actually had his own band, Jim Mac’s Jazz Band), which “Macca” has paid tribute to at other times, like in You mother should know, Honey Pie or in When I’m sixty-four.
If there is a song that breaks the album, it is Mountain top. A psychedelic fantasy—with an intro that seems to wink at Strawberry Fields Forever—in which McCartney’s voice sounds masked by effects, as if putting himself in the speaker’s place; a young man who has consumed some hallucinogenic substance. “Pumpkin pies in the sky/They also try to hypnotize us/You and me wherever we go,” he says in the imaginative lyrics that could pass as a distant cousin of Lucy in the sky with diamonds.
Although the lyrics seem more like a pastiche of a psychedelic song, at times cliché, the music is much more energetic. The song shifts to a faster beat, reminiscent of Back in the USSR, as if to recreate the hallucinogenic sensation proposed by the lyrics.
The album also expands on the other great topic that has crossed McCartney’s career; love. There is Ripples in a pond, written for his wife Nancy Shevell. She also appears tangentially in Life can be hard, a song written during the pandemic, which stands out for its careful musical production. Supported by the main melody and careful arrangements of keyboards, strings, and guitars, it is one of the good songs on the album.
The second part of The Boys of Dungeon Lane has some of its best moments. It is no coincidence that four of those songs are signed by McCartney along with producer Andrew Watt. His sharp ear for pop is felt in We Two, Come inside, Never know, and Home to us, the collaboration that brought Paul and Ringo Starr together in an unlikely duet.
That is also the most Beatlesque song on the album, with distinctive vocal harmony play, a direct chorus, and a solo with a rock flavor. A commercial move? Possibly, but it gives fans a taste of how the Fab Four’s universe would sound in the current context.
At his age, Paul McCartney has nothing to prove, but he has managed to sign a solid album that shows him relevant, although the passage of time is felt. The question floats as to whether it can be considered a farewell album, in tune with its nostalgic fiber, but the vitality conveyed by the 14 songs seems to indicate he has chosen to keep writing until death. A worthy return in line with his legend.
