Paul McCartney – Give My Regards to Broad Street Review

Credit where it is undoubtedly due, Paul McCartney released some real dreck in the 1980s. Give My Regards to Broad Street is not such a release, though. The unfortunately ridiculed and rejected feature film farce offered good fun in the style of A Hard Day’s Night or Help!, just with a more 80s-friendly narrative. The album released alongside it offered listeners what they had, deep down, wanted. David Gilmour on guitar in a few spots, the rest of it covers classic works from The Beatles. McCartney had and still has the star power to bring anyone into the studio, to work on whatever he gives them. Locking the door to the studio and orchestrating an inevitable George Martin production should be no surprise. What is surprising though, as it was for the film, is the quality on display. Pockets of real, revolutionary work from McCartney, who does more than revisit the past here.  

McCartney suffered musically through the 80s, not because he had less to say but because he had the same focus on the charts as birds of prey have for wounded animals. Such is the cycle of life. McCartney appeals to the passing listener in the hopes of catapulting himself further up the charts, further into the hearts and minds of the nation that had just suffered through Tug of War. Good Day Sunshine remains a catchy track, one used to propel McCartney back into the public consciousness once more. But it is the cover of The Beatles’ Yesterday which strikes the first truly tender chord. A sincere effort, a charming exploration of the stripped-back sound McCartney and Martin developed so well in the 1960s. For all the knocks we can give McCartney for chasing the pop-rock sound, the easy listening that comes with the genre, there are a few great moments to be had with Give My Regards to Broad Street.  

Wanderlust is a wonderful occasion and the instrumental skill heard on Ballroom Dancing is quite unlike anything McCartney was doing on his studio albums around this time. There is a sense of improvisation in the studio in the build towards Not Such a Bad Boy. “Do we really have to?” is the response given to being asked to play the Give My Regards to Broad Street original. After a double bill of Silly Love Songs, a bout of silence would have been preferable. Still, the tongue-in-cheek, bad boy presentation from McCartney is silly enough to work. It carries the tone of the film and of the soundtrack. Light-hearted, but still with an urgency and seriousness which was carried in the message of the songs. McCartney would shy away from straight-shooting comments on the tough love of the world or his personal life, but there are flickers of it to be heard on Give My Regards to Broad Street. 

A generally likeable album from a very lovable musician. Moments of charm from McCartney should be expected, and the slow break from his soft rock studio style can be heard throughout. For No One is pulled from the brink by the Martin-led orchestra. Eleanor Rigby and The Long and Winding Road are neat inclusions towards the end of an album, which feels more like an excuse for McCartney to revisit his strong back catalogue than promoting the movie. Considering the albums McCartney followed this up with, a Russia-exclusive release and the underwhelming Press to Play, it is easy to consider Give My Regards to Broad Street as the last album before a lost period. His lasting pop impressions were dwindling as the world shifted into harder music, the rock and roll sound passing McCartney by.