Paul McCartney
There's a nice, sweet McCartney love song, Only Love Remains. There's a whimsical up-tempo tune, Move Over Busker: "Well, I was hanging around for a miracle/ Struggling with a rhyme/ When I saw Mae West in a sweaty vest/ And I said I'll come up and see you sometime." There's an elliptical bit of what seems intended to be philosophy, However Absurd: "Ears twitch, like a dog/ Breaking eggs in a dish/ Do not mock me when I say/ This is not a lie." There's the charged-up, semi-heavy rocker Talk More Talk. There're Phil Collins and Pete Townshend dropping in. Something for everyone certainly. Yet there seems to be something essential missing. It may be emotional contact. McCartney's vocal style is pie-in-the-sky distant, however endearing he is. In this case, he and co-producer Hugh Padgham have also recorded his vocals in such an effect-burdened way he sounds even more removed. The overall sound quality is an aural marvel, yet the connection between the words of the songs and the man singing them seems distant. It's easy to enjoy this album, hard to be touched by it. (Capitol)
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