The Rolling Stone Interview: Paul McCartney

You heard about that? All it was, was we were recording in Lagos. Lately we've gone to two different places to record, just for the fun of it. We've been to Lagos and to Paris, and in both of the places they say, "Why did you come here? You've got much better studios in England or America, you must be daft!" And we say, "Well, it's just for the fun, it's just to come somewhere different for a different type of turn-on, that's all." They never really seem to be able to understand it. I think old Fela, when he found us in Lagos, thought, "Hello, why have they come to Lagos?" And the only reason he could think of was that we must be stealing black music, black African music, the Lagos sound; we'd come down there to pick it up. So I said, "Do us a favor, we do okay as it is; we're not pinching your music."

They felt that they have their own little ethnic thing going, and these big foreigners are taking all their bit and beating them back to the West with it. Because they have a lot of difficulty getting their sound heard in the West. There's not an awful lot of demand, except for things like, what was it, "Soul Makossa." Except for that kind of thing they don't really get heard.

And they are brilliant; it's incredible music down there. I think it will come to the fore. And I thought my visit would, if anything, help them because it would draw attention to Lagos, and people would say, "Oh, by the way, what's the music down there like?" and I'd say it was unbelievable. It is unbelievable. When I heard Fela Ransome Kuti the first time, it made me cry, it was that good.

In the film A Hard Day's Night, there were the stereotypes — if you remember, John the thinker, Ringo the loner and Paul the happy-go-lucky. Did you object to that?

No. I didn't mind it. No, no; I still don't. I was in a film. I don't care what they picture me as. So far as I'm concerned, I'm just doing a job in a film. If the film calls for me to be a cheerful chap, well, great; I'll be a cheerful chap.

It does seem to have fallen in my role to be kind of a bit more that than others. I was always known in the Beatle thing as being the one who would kind of sit the press down and say, "Hello, how are you? Do you want a drink?" and make them comfortable. I guess that's me. My family loop was like that. So I kind of used to do that, plus a little more polished than I might normally have done, but you're aware you're talking to the press... You want a good article, don't you, so you don't want to go sluggin' the guys off.

But I'm not ashamed of anything I've been, you know. I kind of like the idea of doing something and if it turns out in a few years to look a bit sloppy I'd say, "Oh well, sloppy. So what?" I think most people dig it. You get people livin' out in Queens or say Red Creek, Minnesota, and they're all wiped out themselves...you know, ordinary people. Once you get into the kind of critical bit, people analyzing you and then you start to look at yourself and analyze yourself, and you think, oh Christ you got me, and things start to rebound on ya, why didn't I put on kind of a smart image...you know, why wasn't I tougher? I'm not really lovable, either, but I don't mind falling in the middle. My dad's advice: moderation, son. Every father in the world tells you moderation. [Linda laughs hysterically in the background.]

British parents aren't different...

No, they're exactly the same. My dad could be the perfect American stereotype father. He's a good lad, though; I like him, you know.

I tell you what. I think that a lot of people worried about that kind of stuff didn't often have very good family scenes, and something happened in their families to make them bitter. OK, in the normal day-to-day life a lot of polished talk goes on...you don't love everyone you meet, but you try and get on with people, you know, you don't try and put 'em up-tight; most people don't anyway.

So to me that's always been the way. I mean, there's nothin' wrong with that; why should I go around slugging people? I really didn't like all that John did but I'm sure that he doesn't now.

Have you talked to him about that?

No, but I know John, and I know that most of it was just something to tell the newspapers. He was in that mood then and he wanted all that to be said. I think, now, whilst he probably doesn't regret it, he didn't mean every single syllable of it. I mean, he came out with all stuff like I'm like Engelbert Humperdinck. I know he doesn't really think that. In the press, they really wanted me to come out and slam John back and I used to get pissed at the guys coming up to me and saying, "This is the latest thing John said and what's your answer?" And I'd say, "Well, don't really have much of an answer. He's got a right to say..." — you know, really limp things, I'd answer. But I believe keep cool and that sort of thing and it passes over. I don't believe if someone kind of punches you over you have to go kind of thumping him back to prove you're a man and that kind of thing. I think, actually, you do win that way in the end, you know.

What was your reaction when you read that stuff at the time?

Oh, I hated it. You can imagine, I sat down and pored over every little paragraph, every little sentence. "Does he really think that of me?" I thought. And at the time, I thought, "It's me. I am. That's just what I'm like. He's captured me so well; I'm a turd, you know." I sat down and really thought, I'm just nothin'. But then, well, kind of people who dug me like Linda said, "Now you know that's not true, you're joking. He's got a grudge, man; the guy's trying to polish you off." Gradually I started to think, great, that's not true. I'm not really like Engelbert; I don't just write ballads. And that kept me kind of hanging on; but at the time, I tell you, it hurt me. Whew. Deep.