Fifty Years on the Run

Half a century. When you frame it that way, fifty years somehow takes on more significance. More respect. More gravitas, as the snooty magazines would say.

Fifty years ago this week, Paul McCartney’s “Band on the Run” was released as a single from his new group, Wings. After mostly limping by with minor success following the breakup of the Beatles, this was the song and album that exploded, finally delivering on the massive weight of expectations from a curious fan base.

Sure, he’d scored some solo hits—he even had two songs hit number one in America prior to BOTR—but you almost get the feeling those were purchases born of nostalgia for Beatlemania. “My Love” was Paul’s beautiful paean to his wife and bandmate, Linda, harkening back to his most precious love songs with the Fab Four, and “Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey” was just weird enough to be a novelty hit.

Ah, but when the biting electric guitar intro of “Band on the Run” tore out of AM radios across the country, there was a collective sigh of relief. The rocker had resurfaced. He could still deliver. He still had it.

And while a few of his 1970s hits still pop up from time to time, BOTR is the real survivor of that era.

We’re lucky the album and songs we know today were recorded at all. McCartney insisted on laying down the tracks in the most exotic spot he could find. He chose Nigeria. Not exactly a Mecca (Macca?) for rock stars at the time. Or now, for that matter.

On the edge of a knife

Upon arriving in the African country, Paul and Linda were robbed at knifepoint. All of his demo tapes were stolen before he’d had a chance to properly record them, along with his notebook containing all the handwritten lyrics.

As he said later in an interview with England’s NME: “I had to remember the songs. Luckily I did.”

That wasn’t the only frightening thing to befall the pop star. The studios didn’t exactly measure up to the quality you’d expect for the world’s biggest pop star. The equipment was questionable and the location sported only a single tape machine.

And, like a nasty cherry on top of this shit sundae: Just before leaving England for Nigeria, two of his bandmates quit. That left just Paul, Linda, and guitarist Denny Laine to handle all the duties.

But then, this is Paul McCartney we’re talking about. The guy who can play guitar, bass, keyboards, drums, and any other odd instrument when needed. The dude could probably lay down a catchy tune with spoons and a jug.

All of this makes it even more remarkable that the result was a masterpiece. Fifty years later, it’s still McCartney’s most popular and biggest-selling album. Even the cover is iconic, featuring Paul, Linda, and Denny amongst an odd assortment of celebrities and pseudo-celebrities, posing as criminals breaking out of prison.

Is it too obviously a metaphor of McCartney finally escaping Beatles jail? Whatever. It’s just peculiar enough to be cool.

Movements

As for the title track, it likely remains relevant and timeless because of its unique arrangement. It’s staged in three separate movements, reminiscent of a classical composition—and, for that matter, recalling the unusual juxtaposition of McCartney’s song-within-a-song you hear during John Lennon’s “A Day in the Life.” Paul obviously enjoyed this medley approach, trying it again two years later with “You Never Give Me Your Money” on the Abbey Road album.

Most of the second side of that album, in fact, is one big medley of various songs, allegedly Paul’s baby.

He also used the stacking of different movements within the aforementioned weird track, “Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey.” But it was “Band on the Run” where it really worked.

As for what the song’s lyrics even mean, well . . . who knows? I’m not sure Paul does. He’s given multiple answers through the years. The only common thread seems to be about escaping, breaking free.

For one line in particular—“If we ever get out of here . . .”—he cited a comment made by George Harrison during one of the many contentious meetings the Beatles had during their final year together. I think they all wanted to get out by that point. Paul took it to heart and, five years later, made it one of the anchors of his biggest hit.

So the song, which was released as a single in early April, 1974, nearly wasn’t made.

It was partly born from a painful experience with the bandmates he’d essentially grown up with.

It represented the height of McCartney’s artistic work as a solo artist. (Well, yeah, he was in a band, but come on: Paul WAS Wings.)

And now the song is eligible for its own AARP card.

Happy anniversary to one of the most fascinating rock songs of all time. If you’ve never heard it—or it’s been a long time since you have—perhaps download “Band on the Run” and spend five minutes in the majesty of it all.

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If this post brought back fun memories, consider buying Dom a tea or a beer right here. He’ll toast you and Sir Paul. 🙂