Paul Mccartney Lyric Quotes

And, in the end The love you take is equal to the love you make.

Close your eyes and I'll kiss you, Tomorrow I'll miss you.

Sadness isn't sadness. It's happiness in a black jacket. Tears are not tears. They're balls of laughter dipped in salt. Death is not death. It's life that's jumped off a tall cliff.

Take these broken wings and learn to fly.

When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be. And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be. Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be. Whisper words of wisdom, let it be. And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree, there will be an answer, let it be. For though they may be parted there is still a chance that they will see, there will be an answer. let it be. Let it be, let it be, ..... And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light, that shines on me, shine until tomorrow, let it be. I wake up to the sound of music, mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be. Let it be, let it be, .....

Sometimes it’s hard to know when to let go. It can be so personal…like the autumn leaf still hanging on the limb in the late October sky, Mother Nature sends a gust of wind to nudge it’s stem loose. For us we must listen for our own nudge from the inner soul. We must know…we will feel, it’s ok to let it be. *“Whispers words of wisdom let it be.” - Wes Adamson * “Let It Be” lyrics by Paul McCartney

As a boy, I thought everyone's family was like that, until I met people like John and realised that wasn't true, and perhaps it was the contrast of our different outlooks that produced a kind of magic. But I was born into that way of thinking, that it'll be okay in the end. Tragedy can happen but the page will turn, and I love that.

One of the things I always thought was the secret of The Beatles was that our music was self-taught. We were never consciously thinking of what we were doing. Anything we did came naturally. A breathtaking chord change wouldn't happen because we knew how that chord related to another chord. We weren't able to read music or write it down, so we just made it up. My dad was exactly the same. And there's a certain joy that comes into your stuff if you didn't mean it, if you didn't try to make it happen and it happens of its own accord. There's a certain magic about that. So much of what we did came from a deep sense of wonder rather than study. We didn't really study music at all.

Recorded at the same time, but not destined for release until 19 months later, was John’s ‘Across the Universe’, melding the sweetest and loneliest of his lyrics (‘Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box…’) with the mantra he’d soon be chanting in the Himalayas. He wanted a female chorus totally without artifice so, rather than professional backing singers, it was decided to use two of the fans permanently on watch outside Abbey Road studios. Paul was deputed to fetch them, and picked out a pair he recognised from his own front gate in Cavendish Avenue. The girls’ awestruck voices created just the right effect for ‘Across the

Nor did I know back then that McCartney had written the song as an ode to Black women ("bird" being British slang for a pretty girl) at the pivotal moment of the civil rights struggle. That would only deepen my appreciation for "Blackbird

Instead, they picked up acoustic guitars and recorded the straightforwardly simple backing track—just the two guitars and a scratch vocal—for ‘Bluebird,’ a graceful tune with sweetly poetic lyric that continued the series of metaphorical avian fantasies that already included ‘Blackbird’ and ‘Single Pigeon’—subliminal echoes, perhaps, of Paul’s childhood days as a devoted reader of S. Vere Benson’s Observer’s Book of Birds.

In response, he repurposed an unfinished song that had been kicking around since 1969, originally titled ‘Since You Came to Me,’ and fashioned a response. Composing new lyrics that put Paul directly, and identifiably, in the crosshairs, he transformed his old tune into ‘How Do You Sleep?

The orchestral session came off almost, but not entirely, without a hitch. Through several takes, the principal cellist seemed to be having difficulty phrasing the short cello obbligato in ‘Live and Let Die.’ The part was not that difficult, and Paul, noticing that it was 4:50 P.M., just ten minutes before overtime rates would kick in, walked down the long staircase from the Studio Two control room and took Newman aside. “He wants to go into overtime, doesn’t he?” Paul asked. “Do you mind if I take over?”27 Newman handed Paul the baton, and Paul told the cellist, “Right, I’ll tell you what we’ll do. I’ll sing it, and you play it.” He then sang the cello line, using the names of the chords as lyrics, leaving the player no recourse but to play the line as Paul sang it before doing a final take. “It was so fucking brilliant,” Litchfield marveled, “that when he finished, the entire orchestra stood up and gave [Paul] a standing ovation. The cellist got outgunned. It was wonderful; it was a private piece of musicianship the like of which I’d never seen before, and certainly never since.”28

I think it’s easier for me to do melodies and ballads,” Paul later reflected. “I think they come easier to me. I think they’re actually easier songs to write than rockers. . . . Rock ’n’ roll is deceptively hard to write. A lot of people will just think, ‘Oh, it’s three chords and all you’ve gotta have is a lot of soft lyrics and you’ve got a rock song.’ And sometimes that does work.28 Every time I attempt a heavy rock thing, I know it must be perfect. Otherwise I have people saying, ‘That’s a nice soft rock thing you’ve just done, Paul.’ That’s no compliment, believe me.

Lyrically, the directness and poetic imagery in ‘Warm and Beautiful’ make it a close second to ‘Maybe I’m Amazed’ among Paul’s songs inspired by Linda. And it was almost enough to make him reconsider his insecurity about writing lyrics. “I’ve never thought I had a relationship with words that’s very strong. I feel as though it’s more music. But that’s my particular hang up. I think what I’m saying is, there are some people who string words together that I admire to the degree that I don’t think I’m that good. I mean, that’s my natural response—‘No, I’m not very good with words.’ But when I think about it I know I have some moments when suddenly a little flash has come to me and I’ve thought, ‘Okay, that’s good, those are good words.’”48 In Paul’s own estimation, ‘Warm and Beautiful’ was one of those sudden flashes. “That one really does get to me,” he later admitted. “It captures some of my innermost feelings for her.

In America, ‘Getting Closer’ did slightly better. The anonymous reviewer for Billboard found the song to be “an uplifting rocker” and praised McCartney’s vocals, as well as lyrics and instrumental hooks that were “subtle but effective.”44 The single entered the Billboard Hot 100 at No. 64 on June 16 and remained ten weeks. It took until July 28 to hit its peak, No. 20, a spot it held for a fortnight. At Lympne Castle, meanwhile, Wings were filling reels of tape with jamming, and Paul was bringing in new material. One of his new tunes was ‘Ebony and Ivory,’ a song he had started after a row with Linda at High Park in the summer of 1978, but that looked at relationships more globally, using the keyboard as a metaphor for racial harmony: “Ebony and ivory live together in perfect harmony, side by side on my piano, keyboard, oh Lord, why don’t we?

Because there’s a whole lot to learn when learning to write songs. It’s why almost all the great songwriters interviewed here and in the first volume admitted to years spent writing bad songs before they wrote good ones. (With the exceptional exceptions of Laura Nyro, Janis Ian, and John Prine, all of whom, remarkably, began with masterpieces.) It’s because writing a song, any song, is not unlike painting a cubist painting. Songs encompass many elements at once, and it’s in the seamless fusion of those elements that greatness is achieved. But in each of these pursuits—the creation of music and lyrics—is a whole world to discover. Music is a universe unto itself, with melody, rhythm, and harmony. Lyrics, as well, encompass a complex realm of considerations, combining language both poetic and colloquial, weaving together metaphor, symbology, storytelling, and more in rhymed verses. Add to those aspects the mastery of song structure itself—the precise architecture of verse, chorus, bridge and other song forms—into which the words and the music take their place. And despite the impact of songwriters such as Dylan and Lennon and McCartney, who forever expanded the potential of the popular song, the song form itself was never exploded and replaced. Dylan, The Beatles, Simon, and the rest showed great respect for the song—and within its narrow confines created miracles. And it is in that accomplishment—creating something eternal and unlimited within a restricted form—that the full and true phenomenon of the song is realized. That, as Krishnamurti said, “limitations create possibility.” That within this tiny room, this narrow space, this fast passage of time, a songwriter can create something boundless. Once I started writing songs, I never stopped. To this day nothing is as compelling, exciting, or fulfilling.