I was on my way to dropping my Hulu subscription when I noticed ads for McCartney 3,2,1. Another revival of McCartney and all things Beatles? I can’t resist, although it’s usually old information retold. Sure, tell us again how Let It Be was inspired by a dream. We’ll try to believe that Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds was accidentally an acronym. We know all there is to know without having been there personally. And that’s okay! We’ll listen again!
These episodes are new. Yes, there are the expected memories mentioned, but the concept of McCartney 3,2,1 is Paul McCartney as a musician, composer, and songwriter. Nothing is rushed, and at times, it feels nerdy. It is different, though. That’s not an easy feat after dozens of interviews and documentaries have scraped the depths of the Beatle phenomenon.
As usual, Paul McCartney is flawless when presenting himself. Even when he appears to lose control, to drift into an ecstasy ignited by his own creation, he is aware of how he is being perceived. (He would have to be, after spending the majority of his life under constant public scrutiny.) His mind is quick. He chooses the correct words, he doesn’t offend, and if he occasionally applauds himself, you have to forgive him. He’s Paul McCartney, after all.
Rick Rubin is the perfect guide through McCartney’s brain. Rubin knows music and also what the average person takes for granted about music. Most of us love music but can’t explain what makes a piece of music memorable or a favorite. We like it because we like it, or so we think. McCartney knows why, and he’ll tell you. Rubin will translate the most abstract parts.
Through Rubin, you can understand why McCartney writes the way he does. There’s a geometry to his composing. As tracks are isolated, it is obvious that audio becomes visual and tactile to McCartney, an experience he has accepted very few can grasp. That doesn’t stop McCartney from explaining, and Rubin is an excellent, ever-awed, and respectful listener.
For me, McCartney 3,2,1 affirmed all I ever admired about McCartney. Talent and resilience, of course. His personality, after all these years, still seeming rehearsed and controlled. McCartney has learned finally to laugh at himself, but only for an uncomfortable moment. He feels justified in who he is, and why shouldn’t he? (Shouldn’t we all?) This wall of discomfort around him is a constant I’ve always loved. It proves him to be human.
What McCartney can’t hide is the most obvious takeaway from this unusual series. He and his work have fused into one being. McCartney is his music, and they are a passionate entity. He endeavors to bring in his audience, but that is secondary on his list of priorities. We are welcome to join him; he is one with his creation, with or without us.
His message isn’t about perfection or popularity, although he has achieved a bit of both. Dedication to his own voice, the audacity to trust his instincts–these are the traits that have separated him from the crowd.
This is the reason you should watch McCartney 3,2,1, even if you don’t like Paul McCartney: There should be something in your life that you can talk about non-stop, without losing an ounce of passion, for fifteen hours (the unedited amount of footage, as I understand), in-depth, in terms that maybe only you understand (but who cares?), without apologies, and after, only love what you do even more.
Otherwise, there may not be a point.
McCartney 3,2,1 is currently playing on Hulu.
