What in the world is he on about anyway?
Here's the essential, existential problem with Paul McCartney:
He can be so effortlessly brilliant that it seems like he's not even trying.
Or he can be so annoyingly sloppy that he seems like the worst kind of hack (albeit a hack with the most amazing sense of melody you've ever encountered).
When I met you at the station, you were standing with a bootleg in your hand...
Maybe the problem isn't getting Hi-Hi-Hi, it's that you were already Hi-Hi-Hi when you wrote this.
Or should I call you "My Salamander."
Which, incidentally, doesn't rhyme with "oh no, don't answer."
He Came To Chicago . . . And Rocked
4 hours ago