In 1967, Paul MCCARTNEY sang "When I'm sixty-four." At 71, he returns with a new album after 6 years NEW drifts where he lost his time in so-called classic creations, an album of completely misguided jazz where he is mistaken for a crooner, talents that it has absolutely not. This album of 14 songs plus a ghost 3'28 is responsible for rhythm and sap. This is an album made for the stage. It leaves us no respite and no breathing. Everything is overexcited young. A strong sound, overgrown with lots of punch, rock riffs that are found elsewhere. Good songs: "Save us, New, Looking at her, I can bet" But too many dispensable songs: "Road, Turned out, Get me out of there, the ghost Scared song where he continues to try awkwardly to the piano. The ballad "Early days" have been successful, but the voice is broken, the harmonics are irreparably affected, the move to the octave is painful, all awry. Too tours, too projection, voice is hurt. In "Looking at her," it emits times painful breath, the highs are lost. But this is normal at age 71! How could it be otherwise. He might pretend to believe again, age is here. All this is a way. The magic disappeared. Of course, with such a name, it can go on and on. MCCARTNEY rushes into frantic tempos running to its loss. In "Road" he made desperate efforts to keep the melody. In "Get me out of there", he thinks he's a singer of south Louisiana who strums his acoustic guitar. It is time for this wonderful creator of rest. His work is immense and so beautiful. No masterpiece here. Do not look. You will not find "Hey Jude" or "For noone" and even less "Penny Lane".
