“It’s right under childbirth in terms of the great events of my life,” recalls the dazed Hoffman. And McCartney’s super-fame ensures the cast of supporting characters is stellar. Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Carole King, Cher, a 16-year-old Michael Jackson and old bandmate George Harrison attend McCartney’s New Orleans-flavoured “wingding” on the Queen Mary to launch Venus and Mars, with Professor Longhair and The Meters performing, and an out-of-place Dean Martin wandering about saying, “Who the hell is giving this party? Do I know these people?”
Most importantly, though: was Alan Partridge right? The very best of Wings certainly reaches the heights of the Beatles, and many of their greatest songs remain staples of McCartney’s live sets to this day.
In a way, the immensity of Wings’s success helped keep the Beatles dream alive in the 1970s. But in the end, McCartney outgrew his own band. The thing is that he is almost too talented, capable of making too much music too easily, and what McCartney needs are challenges to bring out the best in himself. For all the support Linda, Denny Laine and a shifting cast of extras brought, there was really never anyone else in Wings to do that crucial job. But how do you replace John Lennon? I’m not sure McCartney has ever figured that out.
The Beatles were a perfect unit, whilst Wings were a fantastic backing band. But the sound and style of Wings, their colourful hippy glam look, zesty spirit, vast musical scope and sonic ambitions, thrilling twin guitars and distinctive harmonies rank them, at their peak, as one of the most cherished, and indeed defining, bands of the 1970s. To be part of one all-time great band is more than most musicians could ever hope for. To be in two – well, that’s a kind of miracle.
★★★★☆
Wings: The Story of a Band on the Run is published by Allen Lane at £35. To order your copy for £30, call 0330 173 0523 or visit Telegraph Books. An accompanying box set of Wings will be released by Universal on Friday
