Following up Band on the Run and the critical response it received was always going to be tricky. Just five years on from the end of The Beatles, Paul McCartney had fallen out of, and back in favour, with the public. His perceived role in the bust-up of the Fab Four is well-documented, and his work with Wings feels understated in some respects. Efforts like Live and Let Die are standout more because of their ties with James Bond than the work itself. The Beatles will forever define McCartney, though his solo works are often outstanding. His work with Wings, however, began to slump soon after Band on the Run. Nothing dreadful, far from it, but efforts like Venus and Mars highlighted the pop consistencies McCartney is now lauded for. His ear for a track transition, but his loss of lyrical purpose, is the undoing of these Venus and Mars songs. Shaking off the spur-of-the-moment excitement is a shame to hear, in its place comes some steady, acceptable Wings work.
Venus and Mars and Rock Show are light, tight examples of Wings’ consistencies. They may trade off their drummer halfway through the recordings, but you would never have known, or heard of the tensions, had it not been mentioned outside of the studio. McCartney had an ear for where pop music was headed in the mid-1970s and that ahead-of-the-times ability he has, strangely enough, is the shortcoming of Venus and Mars. It was ahead of its time, then the best bits were extracted shortly after, and returning to Venus and Mars feels a tad hollow. Songs of longing like Love In Song take the McCartney duo and Denny Laine to fascinating new spots. Earnestness has always been a strength of McCartney’s songwriting and there is a sweetness to Venus and Mars which echoes long after the album has ended. It feels a bit sickly at times but there is no doubting the genuine feelings on show, those deep strings and overhauled instrumentals presenting some distance between Band on the Run and the future Wings had carved out by adding new members to the lineup.
But it also means Venus and Mars feel a bit broader and disconnected. Where Band on the Run had a punchy, rebellious feel to it, a sense of proving people wrong with sharp and interlinked pop rock, Venus and Mars feels more like a collection of singles. The studio chatter heard on You Gave Me The Answer has a faux charm, a sense of twee tones so soon after the world-beating Band on the Run is the sort of tonal whiplash Wings would struggle with long after Venus and Mars. Pieces like Letting Go are the fine line between heartfelt work and stadium fodder, the sort of music Wings needed ahead of their Wings Over the World tour. Letting Go is a remarkable moment on Venus and Mars, its slick guitar work and jazzier tone with saxophone and trumpet additions are the difference maker.
Gone is the defiance of Band on the Run, the situation in the studio was no longer guided by lost instruments and post-Beatles hang-ups. McCartney had proven his worth as a solo artist and found himself back in the good graces of the public. Venus and Mars feel a bit middle-of-the-road at times, but it has a soft rock spirit to it which never fails to charm. Charm is what carries Venus and Mars. From the percussion joys of Spirits of Ancient Egypt to the hopes heard on Medicine Jar. McCartney knew better than most the benefits of time as a healer, especially considering the reaction to Ram just four years before Venus and Mars. What is not lost on Venus and Mars is the defiance. The desire to kick on, irrespective of being in or out of public favour. Who cares? A moment like Call Me Back Again captures the spirited, loving consistency McCartney has always gunned for, and almost always achieved. He brings on the melody strengths with Listen to What the Man Said and Treat Her Gently, the pop rock skill with those early moments, and it makes for a fun, albeit light, listen.
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