McCartney Gets Stoned in a Big Way

Paul challenges Wagner with his new symphony
   By Yahlin Chang

   Paul McCartney's symphony is so ambitious, with such grandiose 
themes and even grander intentions, that you need German to describe 
it. The word: Gesamtkunstwerk, Wagner's concept for a total work of 
art. Inspired by ancient megaliths in Ireland, the 75-minute "Standing 
Stone" comes with its own "Standing Stone Poem," a big, puffy epic 
narrative that McCartney wrote to explain what the music is about. 
And that is (get ready) the beginning of the world out of primordial 
chaos, humankind's deliverance from sea to land, the origins of 
society, the trials of war, the beauty of nature (birds and butterflies) 
and the meaning of life (love, love, love). He's also done two stone 
inspired, quasi-surrealist paintings about "the dawn of time" 
("Standing Stone Story" and "Standing Stone Story II"), wife 
Linda has photographed stones with horses on windswept plains, 
and all of it's included in the CD booklet.
   Sure, the whole project sounds ripe for mockery, especially 
when you consider the fact that McCartney still can't read or 
write music. (A computer roughly transcribed what he played on 
electronic keyboard.) Five years ago, critics laughed at his first 
classical outing, "The Liverpool Oratorio," but now McCartney's 
having the last laugh: the oratorio's been performed more than 
100 times in 20 countries. "Standing Stone" is having its American 
debut at Carnegie Hall on Nov. 14 (Lawrence Foster conducting 
St. Luke's Orchestra), and it's topped the Billboard classical 
chart for the last four weeks.
   Unlike most fledgling composers, who don't get to write for 
full-scale orchestras, McCartney had the luxury of a 300-member 
orchestra and chorus. They come on like gangbusters from the start: 
timpani and cymbals bang and clang, while the orchestra blows 
and saws away on its natural notes (which don't require fingering). 
A neat gimmick for evoking primitivism, perhaps, but the massive 
cacophony of natural notes makes it sound like the orchestra's 
gone mad in the midst of tuning up. The image we should have, 
says the CD booklet, is of a gigantic fireball hurtling through 
space, on its way to becoming Earth.
   McCartney's been known to succumb to glibness and sentimentality, 
and his classical work is no exception. Broad strokes and extravagant, 
melodramatic gestures make "Standing Stone" sound more like a 
soundtrack for a space flick than a symphony. His background in 
pop music, which stresses limited chord progressions of simple 
harmonies, makes him too conservative in an expanded classical 
context. Ideas that could sustain three minutes sound trite when 
they go on and on.
   But this is McCartney, after all. Even in a classical mode, he 
can still craft melodies so stunning and pure you almost forgive 
him his excesses. His best instincts triumph in a four-minute 
section where strings and winds trade graceful passages, and a 
melancholy, two-minute string quartet toward the end. At his best, 
McCartney takes his sparse, elegant melodies and uses classical 
techniques to develop them, allowing them to retain their dignity 
by refraining from self-indulgent repetition or needless volume 
(which plague the rest of the piece). Alas, for most mortals, six 
great minutes out of 75 just wouldn't be enough--but for McCartney, 
it's a best-selling record.

Newsweek 11/3/97 The Arts/Music: McCartney Gets Stoned in a Big Way