RETRO: Paul McCartney, ‘Driving Rain’ (2001)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5… Let’s go for a drive… 6, 7, 8, 9, 10… Let’s go there and back again…

No, these aren’t the lyrics to a Baby Einstein DVD; they’re the opening lines of the title track to Paul McCartney’s 2001 album Driving Rain. Often dismissed as a complete waste of time (putting it mildly), McCartney’s “comeback” album was initially well-received — before it almost stalled completely in order to tack on Macca’s 9/11 anthem “Freedom.” These days, it’s the subject of many an eye-roll among Macca-lovers, mostly because of the woman who inspired it. But, it wasn’t a total loss. In fact, if you dig deep enough, you might find a McCartney fan who will say something nice about it. And, as luck would have it, that McCartney fan is me.

Let’s take a trip back to November 12, 2001. Barely two months after September 11, Driving Rain hit the stands. McCartney had been busy, hustling together the Concert for New York City at Madison Square Garden on October 20. The #1 song on the Billboard Top 40 was Alien Ant Farm’s cover of Michael Jackson’s “Smooth Criminal.” CDs still outnumbered video games and cell phones at Best Buy; hell, no one really even had a cell phone, unless it was a black brick passing as a Nokia.

Yet, even within the technological purgatory in which it was created, Driving Rain still featured that weirdly futuristic cover, a pixelated, black-and-white image of McCartney, hand outstretched. The back cover was more of the same; a collage of these grainy, strange photos. When Paul revealed they’d all been captured with a watch, it was head-scratching. A digital camera was still a luxury, a computer an investment. And here’s Paul McCartney, putting these astounding graphics on his album — via a watch. What was going on?

His last real album had been 1997’s Flaming Pie, a collection that most would agree is among McCartney’s greatest. The entire project is strong from start to finish and spawned a few significant collaborations with his son James (“Young Boy”), Steve Miller (“Used to Be Bad”), and some guy named Richard Starkey (“Beautiful Night”). Most notably, it’s the last to feature contributions from Linda McCartney before her death in 1998. Flaming Pie is an emotional, raw, and strikingly stunning adventure. It would be difficult to follow under the best of circumstances, and, besides 1999’s Run, Devil, Run (more of a rock ‘n’ roll catharsis than a proper album), Paul put recording on the back burner.

But, as the new millennium rolled around, things were changing for the Cute One. For instance, he’d invited a new lady into his life, one that snuck in under the guise of her good deeds and resilient spirit. On the surface, Heather Mills had a lot of Linda’s best qualities: her strong spirit, her dedication to charity, and her unfiltered behavior. Plus, she was young and attractive. It wasn’t hard to see why Paul was smitten. For all intents and purposes, Mills was a big influence on McCartney. She immediately hipped him up; gone were the Cosby sweaters and dirty sneakers, along with his fading mullet. (Later, he’d claim that he dyed his hair long before she came into the picture, but we all know the truth.) And, they bought matching watches that doubled as digital cameras.

It was within this rejuvenation and, some might say, a fucked-up renaissance, that Driving Rain was born. “Something’s open, it’s my heart,” McCartney declares on the title track, a line he stole from his home security system literally telling him his garage door was open. (That man can find a metaphor in anything.) Inspired by his new life, McCartney began to record, completing the album in only two weeks, with producer David Kahne at his side. Most importantly, Paul assembled a crack backing band for his new venture; at its core were Rusty Anderson on lead guitar and Abe Laboriel, Jr. on drums and percussion (and accordion), half of the band that backed McCartney on his first tour in over a decade the next year, and still stand beside him onstage today. (Brian Ray joined the band just prior to McCartney’s Super Bowl performance in 2002.)

It’s extremely apropos that Driving Rain begins with a series of bass drones, back and forth like a grandfather clock. Opener “Lonely Road” is an amalgamation of where Flaming Pie left off and the sum of Run, Devil, Run. Though it sounds kinda like a song your dad’s weekend garage band might write, its lyrics set the stage for the album: McCartney has been hurt and refuses to “walk that lonely road” again. Meanwhile, its video features a parade of mid-life crisis clichés, including a cherry-red convertible that would become one of McCartney’s icons during this period, hot babes, and the birth of his weird barefoot obsession. (Because, supposedly, Heather liked his feet. This gets real weird, folks.)

Stage two: Paul McCartney changes his mind. That was fast! The pairing of “Lonely Road” and its follow-up “From a Lover to a Friend” is extremely important when it comes to the overall theme of Driving Rain, and why it’s not so much a landmark album as it is a milestone. Hidden Easter eggs throughout the tracks build a kind of musical chronology of McCartney’s personal life — more specifically, his love life. He battles this dichotomy of heartbreak and infatuation, darkness into light, all the way through. Will he resolve this internal struggle of past and present loves? Stay tuned.

For all of “Lonely Road”‘s headstrong determination, “From a Lover to a Friend” becomes a plea from Paul to, presumably, a friend (but probably his family and fans) to “let him love again.” A gorgeous piano ballad with a catchy pop tune at its core, “From a Lover” is extremely listenable, and is classic McCartney all the way. Starting there, Driving Rain presents a series of bittersweet love songs like “I Do” with its Sgt. Pepper horns and lyrics like “life is never easy / even in the sun;” the unashamed rocker “About You” (which revisits that dark/light theme); and the stripped-down, country-tinged “Your Way.”

But the album hits its apex with a trio of songs that, while they might not be compositionally connected, all share a similar thread. “Back in the Sunshine Again” is an ethereal drone in which McCartney frees himself from pain. (Two songs earlier, the acoustically-powered “Magic” documents the night Paul first met Linda at the Bag o’ Nails nightclub in London. It’s also the last time she serves as his muse in such a fashion. You could say it brings the Paul and Linda story full circle, before McCartney releases it altogether.)

Where “Sunshine” was McCartney’s absolution, he gives himself ultimate artistic license on “Heather,” an arpeggio-laden piano instrumental derived from warm-up scales. (Seriously. Heather heard him warming up one day and asked if he’d written that. Can’t make this shit up.) So, McCartney does the only thing a man in love can do: he sets those scales to song. When its lyrics come in over a third of the way through, McCartney throws in nonsense phrases like “runcible tune” (a play on Edward Lear’s “runcible spoon” from The Owl and the Pussycat). He also puts speculation to rest and crowns a new “queen of his heart.” And, in case there was any confusion as to exactly who the lucky lady is, he breathily (and creepily) whispers “Heather” right before the fade-out.

The ultimate high point of Driving Rain, in my opinion, is “Your Loving Flame,” a ballad in which McCartney finally surrenders to love, finding himself powerless against it (“what am I to do / if I don’t have you?”). It recalls other McCartney powerhouses like “Maybe I’m Amazed” and “My Love” in its aggressive piano backbone, but lyrically, it’s a bit more hesitant. Rightfully so, of course; where McCartney was plunging headfirst into the lovepool in the early-’70s, in 2001, he was merely toe-dipping. Not into still waters, mind you, but a whirlpool. In fact, the track that follows “Loving Flame,” “Riding into Jaipur” holds significance in the Paul/Heather story: Jaipur, India, is where McCartney bought Mills’ engagement ring. Guess he did choose love over heartbreak in the end.

So, while Driving Rain might not even deserve a place on the CD shelf next to say, Band on the Run, it has its merits. I would go even further than that and say that it’s a must-have for any true fan of McCartney, a man who’s never been shy about setting his emotions to song (which is why his most recent work — love songs for his new wife, Nancy Shevell — is just so damn good). Driving Rain is his recovery, it’s him proving to himself that he could survive, albeit with a questionable puppet master. It’s his musical rebirth with a group of guys who have stuck by him ever since, and it’s a launching pad for the fantastic albums that followed (2005’s Grammy-nominated Chaos and Creation in the Backyard, for one). Most of all, it breaks through that dark cloud of mourning and gives McCartney permission to move on. If Driving Rain itself wasn’t a masterpiece, at least what it yielded was truly great.

Allison Johnelle Boron

Allison Johnelle Boron is a Los Angeles-based music writer and editor whose work has appeared in Paste, Goldmine, Popdose, and more. She is the founder and editor of REBEAT. Her karaoke song is "Runaway" by Del Shannon. Find her on Twitter. All writing and opinions are unaffiliated with any company or organization and are strictly her own.