The Return of Percy Thrillington3 Out Of 5 Stars
Hardcore McCartney Buffs will remember Paul's practical joke on the world when an album called "Thrillington" appeared; a lounge-ish instrumental recreation of "Ram" credited to one Percy "Thrills" Thrillington. The album, once McCartney let on to the joke years later, became a collectors' item. But the whole thing of McCartney as socialite muzak maker is part of Paul's lore.
Once I started listening to "Kisses On The Bottom" (a line from the opening song "I'm Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter"), I was wondering if McCartney was serious or playing up his audience for a laugh. He's played around with expectations before (the three albums as The Fireman with producer Youth, his ventures into classical music, movies, etc,), and he's pulled standards out for albums since the beginning of The Beatles. Nor is he the first performer to decide a shot at the great songbook of the 30's, 40's and 50's would be an artistic challenge. Think Linda Ronstadt's Nelson Riddle phase or Rod Stewart's ongoing "Great American Songbook" series. To McCartney's credit, he uses Diana Krall's ace band and producer Tommy LiPuma, who could do these arrangements in their sleep. Plus, they went to one of the best old studios in the world, Capitol A, where the likes of Nat King Cole and Fran Sinatra fashioned the kind of sound McCartney strives for here.
"Kisses On The Bottom" succeeds for the most part because of the professionalism. Every note is perfect, every brushed drum stroke sounds bristle-soft, McCartney sings in a register that emphasizes every breath. Even McCartney's two ringers, "My Valentine" and "Only Our Hearts" hitch right into line like a jigsaw puzzle. It's - to quote U2 - even better than the real thing. Which is another reason why I'm having such a tough time warming up to more than a C Grade for "Kisses On The Bottom." When McCartney and John Lennon teamed up to start The Beatles, these were exactly the kind of songs they were writing against. There's a strange sort of irony the man who buried the kind of standardized pop songs in the 60's simply by shaking his mop-top and singing "She loves you, yeah yeah yeah" is resurrecting the music he helped to sweep aside for a new big thing. Somewhere, Percy Thrillington is smiling.
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