McCartney 3, 2, 1

 

Rick Rubin and some other guy

I prepared myself for a documentary on Hulu called "McCartney 3, 2, 1." The six-part show features Sir J. Paul McCartney (you might have heard of him) and producer Rick Rubin, essentially, talking music in a studio.

Tonight, with some time on my hands, after nearly collapsing from mowing the lawn in the late August heat, I took the plunge on a free subscription to Hulu (and be prepared to for more of the same when Peter' Jackson's "Get Back" comes out later this year on Disney+).

The reviews have been great. The promo and trailer appealed to me.

Once upon a time, I co-hosted a show with my friend Craig Jones called "In Greenwich" on WGCH. Craig would invite musicians on occasionally and would, by his own admission, have basic questions for the artists. I'd stroll in and climb into breaking things down. People swore I was a musician.

In truth, as much as I'd like to be, I'm very much not. I can't read it. I can't write it (save for poems that can be set to music in my mind). I can barely even sing it.

For the record, Paul McCartney really can't read music either. Yes. That is true.

So, upon hitting "play" I began an epic journey into the studio. One that -- two episodes in (out of six) -- has scrambled my brain.

Rubin, for his part, is the perfect person for this. While so renowned for his work with hip hop, co-founding the legendary Def Jam label, the man knows his stuff and is a savant on The Beatles and McCartney. In short, I respect that he's no one-trick pony.

Of course, he does have rock bona fides and I'm not trying to say otherwise. That's all part of what I really like about him and why he's outstanding in this series.

But to watch Paul-freaking-McCartney listening to his own music, singing along with it, marveling at some of it, and sometimes rediscovering how brilliant it was is, dare I say, awesome.

If you don't really know Paul (I don't but I've obviously studied him intensely) then sometimes his cheeky ways can be offputting. You can easily think he's obnoxious. I find it to be his own confidence being strong coupled with six decades of being told he's the GOAT. I only wish I could ever feel that.

"That's lovely, he says modestly," he says at one point. But even he discovers that magic of his music years later.

Listening to him talk of John and George and Ringo so lovingly is past beautiful. The anger and hurt of a chunk of the 70s are long gone. He gives each "brother" the respect and love they deserve. Given how it ended, hearing him talk about John can certainly be an emotional ride.

Watching old footage of John hamming it up on a TV appearance while Paul earnestly sings his lead vocal is endearing.

"John had a chip on his shoulder. Which was beautiful."

Cue the lump in the throat. 

Yet we're the ones with strong reactions. McCartney, as always, has the Liverpudlian stiff upper lip of a true scouser. You never see or hear the sadness of him being around without "mother" Mary (his mother, honored in "Let it Be") or his father or John or George or Linda.

If anything, he exalts at the sounds coming from the studio monitors, enjoying what he and his mates have created. There's a bit of a "We did that" attitude to an often astounded Rubin, laughing as if maybe he's amazed.

The whole thing is a roller coaster. When Rubin steps to the always-present mixing deck in the room and launches "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band," well, I'm probably happy to be watching it alone because I probably embarrassed myself by fully rocking out. 

Honestly, there are very few people I would want to watch this with for my first time (a few for sure).

A little side note. I often reset speakers and equipment (I've mentioned that before). My go-to song to make sure everything is set to my liking? "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" every time because of the mixing. If I can't hear the vocal or a guitar part in one ear then I know I've got it wrong.

They just began discussing the opening note of "A Hard Day's Night" and how they adjusted the tape speed for the guitar solo and I think I might pass out.

And really listen to "Another Girl" (from "Help") and you'll clearly hear the country (and Western) influence especially after watching this.

I'm trying otherwise to not give too much away.

The series also delves into Macca's solo and Wings work, from truly lesser-known pieces like "Waterfalls" to "Band on the Run" and "Live and Let Die."

It's literally all over the map through nearly 60 years of music. Incredible music.

My mind is exploding.

You'll no doubt know some of the stories, such as retelling the tale that "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" had nothing to do with LSD but was based on Julian Lennon bringing a drawing home of his friend Lucy sort of floating among stars. Still, it's always great to hear.

Anyone who gets so personally involved with music (or anything) can appreciate the emotions that pour out in this. From a personal standpoint, I'm a wee lad again, singing the "woos!" in my sister's bedroom or just glancing back on what I thought was a normal family upbringing.

Sadly so much of that is gone, especially since losing Mom.

I get it. You think the lads are overrated. You think McCartney is a snarky git. Whatever the case.

This is music history.

This is stunning television.

Maybe you'll respect the music more after it's done or become interested in listening to it more. Maybe you'll hate it more than you previously did.

Whatever the case I can't recommend it enough.