Skip to main content

Ker-SPLATT!!: “Live And Let Die” by Wings





When I was young and my brain was a more open book, I had always assumed that “Live And Let Die” was a one-off collaboration between Paul McCartney and John Barry, PMac providing the song and JB the action-packed orchestral section but actually this was the first Bond theme since Dr No not to have been composed, even in part, by Barry – Paul and Linda wrote the song and producer George Martin scored the orchestra.

Live And Let Die, the movie, was the first to star Roger Moore as Bond, although producers Saltzman and Broccoli had made previous overtures to people like Burt Reynolds and even Adam West – Batman as Bond? Shurely shome mishtake – and while Saltzman was keen on having McCartney write the theme song, he thought of it being sung by Bond theme stalwart Shirley Bassey, or perhaps Thelma Houston. However, McCartney insisted that Saltzman could only have the song if he allowed Wings to perform it under the opening credits. Recalling how he had passed up the opportunity to produce A Hard Day’s Night nine years earlier, Saltzman relented and agreed.

“Live And Let Die,” the song, plays like an early seventies update of the Long Medley on Abbey Road; the regretful “You Never Give Me Your Money” balladism, the climactic crunch of the chorus, the fast-track orchestral section, strings swirling as though “A Day In The Life” had been swallowed up by the blades of Mr Big’s helicopter, and even a brief reggae section (since some of the film was shot in Jamaica). As the song itself admits, it does its job, and as for that line, it reads “But if this ever-changing world in which we live in…” – when asked about the prepositional tautology many years later, McCartney reckoned that “in which we live in” was “wronger but cuter” than the correct “in which we’re living” (although he couldn’t recall which he’d actually written). Music for a year which made many want to give in and cry – just look below at what kept it off number one for confirmation of that.

Date Record Made Number Two: 11 August 1973
Number Of Weeks At Number Two: 3
Records At Number One: “The Morning After” by Maureen McGovern, “Touch Me In The Morning” by Diana Ross and “Brother Louie” by Stories
UK Chart Position: 9

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

“I Would Have Thought In The Middle Of The Atlantic In The Middle Of The Night That Rockets Must Mean Trouble”: “I’m Not In Love” by 10cc

"watching for night, with absinthe eye cocked on the lone, late, passer-by." (Sylvia Plath, "Prospect," 1956) This story begins in 1954, before most people had really recognised anything called rock, and a pop record which is half-perfect. That record, which stayed at number one in our charts for ten weeks, was “Cara Mia” by David Whitfield with Mantovani and his Orchestra and Chorus. Now, Whitfield was never the most subtle of singers and his in-your-face bellowing is somewhat distracting – it is significant that he was the first British reality media star (not from television, because at that time Opportunity Knocks was only broadcast on Radio Luxembourg) since his climactic high C at the end of “Cara Mia” is like a display of gymnastics, or an athletic field event; can he do that triple loop or throw that javelin beyond the stadium? It proves that technical prowess can often render itself unlistenable. But the magic here lies in the extraordinary ...

A Disaffection, Or Fight Against Same: “Baker Street” by Gerry Rafferty

Even as a young teenager growing up in Lanarkshire, I was always listening out for music that sounded out of kilter, whether it was George Crumb’s Makrokosmos III (the closing section of which I heard on a Saturday afternoon on Radio 3) or anything which “irrupted” the top forty. From the first time that I heard “Baker Street” on the radio – I think it was Dougie Donnelly on Radio Clyde – I was immediately hooked, mentally noting that this song seemed to go as much against the grain of a standard pop record as anything coming out of punk or New Wave, and was probably just as angry, if not angrier. For forty years I harboured the notion – and this was from a time when visiting London, never mind living and working in it, was still a distant pipedream – that the song encapsulated the situation of the displaced Scotsman, marooned in a world he doesn’t really like or perhaps even understand. Make no mistake, this is undeniably a Scottish record, and seemingly all about someone...

Threads Of Alligator Lizards In The Air: “Purple Rain” by Prince and The Revolution

The original idea was for a country-style collaboration with Stevie Nicks, to whom Prince sent a ten-minute instrumental backing track, asking her to come up with some lyrics. However, Nicks was overwhelmed by what she heard and feared that the task was too much for her to take on, so the song was reworked in rehearsal with The Revolution, utilising Wendy Melvoin’s guitar phrasing as a new guideline. The song appears to have existed before the film; Purple Rain the movie is best described as lucid hokum, but its soundtrack changed the atoms which constituted “pop,” far more so than much ostensibly radical music of the period. For many of that decade’s generation, Purple Rain the soundtrack was “our” Ziggy Stardust – better conceived, performed and produced in every way – and the title song, which closes the album, was “our” “Rock ‘N’ Roll Suicide.” It is such a patient epic, the song, and about a lot of things, and people – each of the verses addresses a different su...