#adrian sinclair

Our kid was first in a group with John called Quarrymen, and apparently, I’d forgotten the set of drums fell off the back of a lorry, as we say in Liverpool, and landed up in our house. So I was learning drums, and one of the Quarrymen came back and said, ‘I remember you’re coming down the house, and it was great when you played drums for us.’ I said, ‘Did I?’ I’d totally forgotten. But then I realized why I forgot. It’s because I broke my arm in a scout camp, and this hand dropped. It was dead, paralyzed. So it took several years to get it back, and at that time, those drums that I was learning on, first of all, my brother, no wonder the drums on the band on the road are good. That’s where he learned it from my drums. But I couldn’t play anything then. So I’d forgotten that I was even the drummer, and Ringo got the job.

(Mike McCartney)

Mersey Beat Founder and Editor, Bill Harry wrote a guest column for Beatle Fan Magazine in 2019. He stated “For their August 7, 1961 gig, the Litherland Town Hall classified advertisement in the Liverpool Echo carried the message: ‘Hear Pete Best Sing Tonight.’ Best had been talked into performing the song “Pinwheel Twist,” which Paul had written for him to sing. Pete recalled in a conversation with Spencer Leigh: ‘Paul wrote the song and asked me to do it. He coupled it with Joey Dee’s hit “The Peppermint Twist.’ I used to get up and do the twist onstage and Paul played my drums. It was a little novelty act and it went down well with the fans. When The Beatles performed it, Paul took over on drums, George played Paul’s left-handed bass right-handed and Pete sang.”

(Source)

I used to get on Pete’s case a bit. He’d often stay out all night. He got to know a stripper and they were boyfriend and girlfriend. She didn’t finish work until four in the morning, so he’d stay up with her and roll back at about ten in the morning and be going to bed when we were starting work…

(Paul McCartney, Anthology, 2001)

In Hamburg, one week Tony Sheridan’s drummer got sick, and I drummed for him, for the extra cash, for a week . . . I can hold quite a good beat.

(The McCartney Legacy Volume 1. 1969-73 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair)

Q: When did you first play drums? A: My first recollection is in Hamburg. You’d get behind the kit to try and show the drummer what you wanted. That gradually grew to messing around on other people’s kits, which were lying around because there were a lot of groups playing in the places we played. You picked up the simplest beats very naturally. I remember one evening when Tony Sheridan’s drummer didn’t show up, so Tony said, “Come on, man, sit in!” I said, “No way! I can’t do this.” And he said, “Yeah, you can.” So I did it and then I was thinking, “Well! I’ve actually done a professional drumming gig!” Later, with The Beatles, there was a period where John, George, and I operated as a trio and picked up little bits of work. I remember playing in an illegal club in somebody’s basement on Upper Parliament Street in Liverpool’s Caribbean Quarter. One day this guy called Lord Woodbine, who ran the club, asked if we’d come in and accompany this stripper called Janine. We said, “Wow! Yeah, man! There’s a job.” He even paid us money. Q: It sounds like you would have paid him for that gig. A: Exactly [laughs]. So she came in and said, “Okay, I need you to play Ravel’s Bolero.” We said, “Oh, gee. Sorry, luv. We don’t read music. But we’ve got ’Raunchy.’ That might do.” I had somebody’s old drum kit, and I sat there with a broomstick between my legs, with a microphone tied to it so I could do a bit of vocals and drum at the same time. It was hilarious.

(Paul McCartney, interview with Robert L. Doerschuk for Drum!Magazine, 2005)

“Sometimes after a lunchtime session in the Cavern, we would spend the afternoon in the Mandolin Club in Toxteth. Paul was showing Pete the drum pattern that he wanted on a particular song. Pete tried to do it but he didn’t get it. He did argue quite a bit with Pete, and Paul was a frustrated drummer, which is unusual as so many drummers are frustrated front-liners. He always made for the drums on jam sessions at the Blue Angel – Gerry Marsden would be singing and Wally Shepherd would be playing guitar.”

(Ritchie Galvin in Best of the Beatles: The sacking of Pete Best by Spencer Leigh, 2015)

Q: When Ringo joined the band, that must have interrupted your emerging career on drums. A: Yeah, I was completely redundant. We loved Ringo so much. He was our favorite drummer in Liverpool, and when he joined the band, it was an explosion: Every song sounded new and fresh. He could pass what we felt was the true test for drummers, which was to be able to play “What’d I Say” — the cymbal work and the toms.

(Paul McCartney, interview with Robert L. Doerschuk for Drum!Magazine, 2005)

We did do a few little bits and pieces together before we all went our separate ways. John and I and Yoko did ‘The Ballad of John and Yoko’. He enlisted me for that because he knew it was a great way to make a record. ‘We’ll go round to Abbey Road Studios. Who lives near there? Paul. Who’s going to drum on this record? Paul. Who can play bass? Paul. And who’ll do it if I ask him nicely? Paul.’ He wasn’t at all sheepish about asking. He probably said something like, ‘Oh, I’ve got this song I want to record. Would you come round?’ And I probably said, ‘Yeah, why not?’

(Paul McCartney, The Lyrics, 2021, about Dear Friend)

Steve Miller happened to be there recording, late at night, and he just breezed in. ‘Hey, what’s happening, man? Can I use the studio?’ ‘Yeah!’ I said. ‘Can I drum for you? I just had a fucking unholy argument with the guys there.’ I explained it to him, took ten minutes to get it off my chest. So I did a track, he and I stayed that night and did a track of his called My Dark Hour. I thrashed everything out on the drums. There’s a surfeit of aggressive drum fills, that’s all I can say about that. We stayed up until late. I played bass, guitar and drums and sang backing vocals. It’s actually a pretty good track. It was a very strange time in my life and I swear I got my first grey hairs that month. I saw them appearing. I looked in the mirror, I thought, I can see you. You’re all coming now. Welcome.

(Paul McCartney in Many Years From Now by Barry Miles, 1997)

I really had to ask myself, “Do I want to give up music, or keep going?” I got a four-track Studer recording machine, like the Beatles used for Sgt. Pepper, put it in the corner of the living-room at my house in London and tried a very simple technique of just plugging directly into the back, not going through a mixing desk. It’s a cool way to record because it’s pure. If, say, I was doing a drum track, I’d play the drums, record it with one microphone, listen to it back, move the mike a little if there wasn’t enough hi-hat or cymbal, and then re-record. Then I’d add bass by plugging the mike into track two and overdubbing while listening to track one through headphones. I’d do that with all with four tracks. It was very hands-on, primitive way of working. <…> It was funky, and still sounds good to me.

(Paul McCartney, “Wingspan” documentary, 2001)

We did not see Ringo until the next night when he arrived at the session. He walked in and went straight to his drums…fiddled with them, then fiddled with them some more. “Somebody did something to my snare drum,” he said irritably. “Paul was here last night. He played them,” explained John. “He’s always fucking around with me things!” It sounded as though Ringo were back in Liverpool and all of them were still teenagers and nothing in their lives had changed. I realized then, that no matter what might happen among them, this was the way they would always relate to each other.

(May Pang, Loving John, 1983)

(Krla Beat, pic by lisamarie-vee)

So, I got into my studio in Scotland and started working, doing the drum track. I normally start with the drums. I sometimes use drum machines, but I like to redo it with real drums. I enjoy drumming. Then I put some bass on it. I was just doing an experimental thing. I was messing around and experimenting. Slowing down tapes, or speeding them up.

(Paul McCartney, The Lyrics, 2021, about Coming Up)

Paul and I were in England, having dinner together [along with our wives]. I told him I was making an EP, and I said, “Why don’t you write me a song?” He wrote the song [Feeling the Sunlight] and put bass on it, he put piano, he put the drums on — and I had to take the drums off. [Laughs.]

(Ringo Starr, interview with Rob Tannenbaum for AARP, Nov 2023)

George was the first one to make a solo album [Wonderwall Music], and I was the drummer. John started the Plastic Ono Band, and I was the drummer. Paul likes to play drums himself, or I would’ve been on his albums too.

(Ringo Starr, interview with Rob Tannenbaum for AARP, Nov 2023)

Q: As strong as you are on bass, keyboards, guitar, and as a singer and writer, is it frustrating to play your drum parts at a more limited level? A: That never intimidates me, though it probably should. I just have so much enthusiasm when I do things that I don’t even consider it. I’m lucky, because some people would wrack themselves with doubt, but when I came to this project I was like, “Man, let’s just have a bit of fun!” It didn’t occur to me that I was some idiot jumping on the kit. I know that a lot of drummers can play rings around me, but as long as I keep it simple and don’t get too flash, I can play with a steady, swampy feel, and that’ll do the job.

(Paul McCartney, interview with Robert L. Doerschuk for Drum!Magazine, 2005)

@i-am-the-oyster, I hope you will enjoy :)

Cool cover, huh? That cover is a harbinger of what is contained inside. Let’s get straight to the point – this is one of the best studies of Paul McCartney and his solo music you are going to find. Epic and essential, full stop. The McCartney Legacy by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair is the first installment of what will become a multi-volume set. As its subtitle suggests, Volume 1 captures…

So

I finally changed it

(after this)

Paul and the Eastmans had more business to discuss during that June visit [16-19 June 1978], namely, the still unresolved matter of dividing up the millions of dollars in record royalties that had accumulated in Apple’s coffers since March 1971. Dissolution papers, signed by the four Beatles in December 1974, severed their business ties, but the Beatles recording royalties continued to flow into Apple, with each Beatle receiving 5 percent, while 80 percent went into Apple’s bank account. According to Paul, the main sticking point in reaching a financial settlement was John’s insistence that the others indemnify him against both US and UK tax claims. Until now, the Eastmans had resisted any such agreement, but keen to break the deadlock, Paul sought their blessing to accept Lennon’s terms; after all, what good was a divorce without a settlement?

(The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

I spoke to the Eastmans. I said, “If we all think he’s not going to have a tax consequence, let’s give [the indemnity] to him.”’Cause, you know, if all sides are that smart, let’s all offer it. Break the deadlock. I went to New York, feeling like the bringer of good news. I rang him up. “Hello, John, how are you? Hello, how’s the kids? Oh, great. What’s all this about publishing? Yeah, great”—laugh laugh laugh—“What about Apple?” Tense. You know, that was the unfortunate thing in the last ten years. The moment you mention the word Apple, all of us go, eeeeep! Dread and horror and shock goes through all our systems. I said, “Look, as I understand it, you need this indemnity.” John said, “Fucking indemnity. Fucking this, fucking that. You don’t need to give me fucking indemnity, you fucking—” I think we ended up just sort of swearing at each other. I said, “Fuck you, ya big cunt,” ’cause I just couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t be sweet and reasonable anymore. I was shaking for an hour after that. Of course, the funniest thing was, I then meant to ring John Eastman and say to him, “No, no, it’s not gonna work, this whole thing. I tried to do the indemnity, it’s not gonna work.” Of course, I got the phone numbers wrong. I rang John Lennon back instead. [When the phone was answered, I said,] “Hello, John? Yeah, listen, I just—oh—yeah well…” But it was Yoko this time, and then I said, “Look, I didn’t mean for it to get like that—but, shit, you know, it seems to have got…” The funny thing was, they knew I was trying to ring John Eastman immediately after, so that would have reinforced their little feelings about me double-dealing. I’ve hardly talked to him since.

(Paul McCartney, 1980, in All You Need Is Love by Peter Brown and Steven Gaines, 2024)

Paul’s rage turned to embarrassment. Desperate to set the record straight and not leave New York under a storm cloud, Paul took a taxi ride to the Dakota building. The Lennons’ interior gardener, Mike Meideros, was watering plants when Paul pulled up outside. “It was maybe like five o’clock in the evening,” Meideros recalled, “and the concierge called up. I don’t know the exact conversation because I didn’t hear it, I just heard Yoko saying, ‘No, he can’t come up now.’ And I thought that was pretty cold.”

(Robert Rodriguez, Audio interview with Mike “Tree” Meideros for Something About the Beatles podcast, first broadcast March 10, 2024 - in The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

The next song Paul brought in was a peculiar but musically fascinating medley. The first part, which he had demoed during the summer [June-July 1978], was a lively track built over an energetically bouncing bass line, alternatively called ‘Emotional Moments’ (after the opening lines, “Emotional moments / You left in a rage”) and ‘Cage’ (after the refrain, which immediately follows, “And if you could love me now / I wouldn’t be in a cage”). In the demos, the bass figure, shadowed by a synthesizer, continued in various permutations through the full track, and included a brisk, ear-catching chordal interlude dominated by the synthesizer. Now Paul added a second verse, which more or less explained the “cage” reference: “Provisional license* / I’m under arrest / But if you could get me out / I’d like to take another test.” The chordal interlude was moved to the end of the song, where it precedes a final verse. In the medley, Paul has interposed an entirely different song between the opening and closing verses of ‘Emotional Moments.’ Called ‘He Didn’t Mean It,’ this second song is slower and more melodic. In its lyrics, Paul revives a trick the Beatles had used in ‘She Loves You’…

(The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

Emotional moments, you left in a rage But if you could love me now, I wouldn't be in a cage Provisional license, I'm under arrest But if you could get me out, I'd like to take another test I've been sent to tell you That the man you were with last night Is feeling sorry, sorry But he told me to tell you That he hardly ever lies But he lied to you last night He didn't mean it, no Said he didn't mean it, no I've been sent to tell you That the man you were with last night Is feeling lonely only for you He told me to tell you That he hardly ever cries But he cried for you last night, ooh He didn't mean it, no Said he didn't mean it, no

(Garth Pearce, “The McCartney Memoirs,” Daily Express, February 10, 1977 in The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

And you don't have to go on the roof. You don't have go anywhere.

...

(John Lennon, 1980, All We Are Saying by David Sheff)

1969

September, 9

-John, Paul and George held a meeting at Apple

John then addressed the agreement under which he and Paul had worked since 1962, in which any song written by either of them was credited to Lennon-McCartney. They rarely collaborated anymore, and most fans could tell who wrote what. John proposed, with no objection from Paul, that their future songs be published under their individual names. Notably, Lennon made a point of saying that they had to find a way to announce this compositional de-linking in a way that would not lead to “Beatles Splitting” rumors.

(The McCartney Legacy Volume 1. 1969-73 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2022)

September, 13 -the Plastic Ono Band’s debut in Toronto

September, 19 -ATV bought shares from the Consortium and reached just under 50% ownership of Northern Songs

September, 20 (16?) -John tells he had decided to leave band

Klein asked John to wait until the contracts were finalized before he started talk that the Beatles were disbanding. But that didn’t keep John from enjoying the satisfaction of telling Paul. Shortly after John’s return from Toronto, he demanded a meeting at Apple. Paul arrived, his usual magnanimous self, full of plans for new Beatles projects. But no matter what Paul suggested, John kept saying, “No, I don’t want to do that,” or “No, I’m not interested.” The discussion finally dissolved into a mean argument, which Paul finally recovered from by launching into one of his Beatle-pep talks, one of those “Toppermost of the Poppermost” things. “When everything is said and done,” he summed up, “we’re still the Beatles, aren’t we?” “Aw fuck,” John said, “I ain’t no Beatle.” Paul wouldn’t hear it. “Of course you are—” “I’m not!” John shouted, “Don’t you understand? It’s over! Over! I want a divorce, just like the divorce I got from Cynthia! Can’t you get it through your bloody head?” The meeting ended shortly after with John rushing down the stairs, Yoko right behind him, shouting, “It’s over! Finished!” Still, John said nothing to the press, and when he and Yoko left Savile Row that afternoon in their white Rolls-Royce, Paul still somehow believed that John would calm down and there would always be the Beatles.

(The Love You Make by Peter Brown, 1983)

Klein persuaded John to remain silent until the EMI deal was ratified by both sides. John’s news was no more welcome to Klein than it was to the other Beatles. But that was not the only reason Klein wanted John to keep mum. He knew that John could be volatile, and he thought there was a chance that John would reconsider once he’d weighed the pros and cons of going it on his own or continuing as a Beatle. But that was only likely to happen if John kept the plan to himself for a while. <…> Klein’s only option was to swear all the Beatles to secrecy for some indeterminate amount of time after the new EMI deal was in effect. The four Beatles signed the EMI contract on September 20, 1969, but it still had to be ratified by EMI. But John added a proviso.

(The McCartney Legacy Volume 1. 1969-73 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2022)

'John had made it clear that he wanted to be the one to announce the split,' Linda McCartney explained years later, 'since it was his idea.' 'He wanted to be first,' her husband confirmed. 'But I didn't realise it would hurt him that much or that it mattered who was first.'

(You Never Give Me Your Money. The Beatles: After the Breakup by Peter Doggett, 2009)

September, 25

-ATV increased its shareholding to 54%, effectively controlling Northern Songs -John recorded Cold Turkey

October, 20 -(US) and 25 (UK) - Cold Turkey released as a single, the first song for which John took sole credit, not Lennon-McCartney

October, 22 -Paul had flown from London to Scotland with Linda, Mary and Heather

1970 April, 9

- was published press release 'McCartney' (all songs with sole writing credits to Paul)

Q: "Are you planning a new album or single with the Beatles?" PAUL: "No." Q: "Do you foresee a time when Lennon-McCartney becomes an active songwriting partnership again?" PAUL: "No."

_________

And then a year later, Paul announced it, right? [laughs; bleak] Good ol’… That was a great trick, you know. Because maybe that’s how when he – [very quiet] He felt that’s how he had to do it. So.

JOHN: "I was always waiting for a reason to get out of the Beatles from the day I filmed 'How I Won The War' (in 1966). I just didn't have the guts to do it."

(John Lennon, Newsweek, September 29, 1980)

I was too scared to break away from the Beatles, but I’d been looking to it since ’65 when we stopped touring. And maybe Paul had been, too—I don’t know. I can’t speak for the others. <…> And so from ’65 on I was sort of vaguely looking for somewhere to go, but I didn’t have the nerve to really step in the boat by myself and push the boat off.

(John Lennon, Sept. 1980, in All We Are Saying by David Sheff)

There seem to be certain cycles that relationships go through. The critical points are at different parts of the different cycles. The new way of talking is like, “Well, why work on a relationship? We just stop and get another one.” But the karmic joke is, presuming you’re lucky enough to find a new relationship anywhere near the relationship you’re giving up—or exchanging, or walking away from, or destroying by inattention or inadvertence or selfishness or whatever it is—that you have to go through it over and over and over again right up until you’re seventy. People never grasp the fact that they’re going to have to go through the same thing again. They get to the sort of five-year stretch or the seven-year itch or whatever these tension points are that seem to be organic, built in, like the tide coming in and going out. It’s like every time the tide goes out you quit—you move your house or something. I’m not making it clear here, but you get where I’m going…

(John Lennon, Sept. 1980, in All We Are Saying by David Sheff)

[Paul] even recorded that [Why Don't We Do It in the Road?] all by himself in the other room, that’s how it was getting in those days. We came in and he’d – he’d made the whole record. Him drumming, him playing the piano, him singing. Just because – it was getting to be where he wanted to do it like that, but he couldn’t – couldn’t – maybe he couldn’t make the break from The Beatles, I don’t know what it was… But we’re all, I’m sure – I can’t speak for George, but I was always hurt when he’d knock something off without… involving us, you know? But that’s just the way it was then.

(John Lennon, August, 1980: interview for Playboy with David Sheff)

There isn’t enough outlet for me in the Beatles. The Ono Band is my escape valve. And how important that gets, as compared to the Beatles for me, I’ll have to wait and see.

(John Lennon, New Musical Express December 13, 1969)

So you couldn’t really say, “Oh, we don’t want you to do that, John. You should just stay with us.” We felt so wimpy, you know. So it had to happen like that.

(Paul McCartney, November, 1983, interview with DJ Roger Scott)

Last year John said he wanted a divorce. All right, so do I. I want to give him that divorce. I hate this trial separation because it’s just not working. Personally, I don’t think John could do the Beatles thing now. I don’t think it would be good for him.

(Paul McCartney, Evening Standard, April 21-22, 1970)

For instance, when they [John and Yoko] bust up their marriage, she came through London. He was in LA doing Pussy Cats with Nilsson and having a generally quite crazy time of it all <…> all because he genuinely loved Yoko and they had a very, very deep, strong relationship… <…> She was very nice and confided in us but she was being very strong about it. She said, ‘No, he’s got to work his way back.’ I said, ‘Well look, do you still love him?’, and she said, ‘Yes.’ So I said, ‘Well, would you think it was an intrusion if I said to him, “Look, man, she loves you and there’s a way to get back”— sounds like a Beatles’ song — and I said ‘Would that be OK?’ <...> So I said, ‘You’re going to have to work your little ass off, man. You have to get back to New York, you have to take a separate flat, you have to send her roses every fucking day, you have to work at it like a bitch! Then you just might get her back.’ And he did.

(Paul McCartney, 1986, interview with Chris Salewicz for Q Magazine)

LENNON: When she [Yoko] kicked me out, I saw I was kicked out. When I was kicked out, I realized where I was, which was on a raft in the middle of the universe, and whatever happened, presuming I could have started another relationship, I would have ended up in the same place—if I was lucky. And that’s a big if. <…> It took a while, but that’s what I saw. If I was lucky … <…> There are laws governing that relationship, too. You can either give up halfway up the hill and say, “I don’t want to climb the mountain, it’s too tough, I’m going to go back to the bottom and start again,” or you can do it this time. PLAYBOY: But you once decided it was too tough. LENNON: I did. But I didn’t see any of this then. Yoko and I were lucky enough to go through that and come back and pick up where we left off, although it took us some kind of effort and energy to—to blend in again and get in the same sync again.

(John Lennon, Sept. 1980, in All We Are Saying by David Sheff)

“The separation didn’t work out,” Lennon joked, telling Paul that he had moved back to the Dakota on February 3 [1975]—just as Paul was recording ‘Call Me Back Again,’ the song he started just after reconnecting with John in Los Angeles—and that he and Yoko were hoping to work things out.

(Uncredited: “Teazers,” NME, February 15, 1975, p. 48 in The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

‘We [John and Yoko] are back together now. And happier than over before. It’s the old, old story—when you get someone back that you’ve lost it’s better than ever.’