(A Lot Behind the Song)
02.20.26
THIS IS NOT A REVIEW of the new Paul McCartney documentary, Man on the Run, directed by Morgan Neville. The film had a very limited cinema release before its Amazon Prime Video release. As an avid McCartney fan, I drove to the theater last night (February, 19, 2026) for the local screening. There are going to be plenty of reviews out there so I will refrain from doing one myself, but I do want to give a little context, background and share a couple of opinions about the film. More importantly, I want to convey something personally meaningful that is related to the film and that took place during the day and evening of February 19, 2026.
Man on the Run is not a documentary about McCartney’s musical output or Wings’ albums. That music is certainly used throughout—it’s just not analyzed in great detail. The film is about Paul McCartney as a man. It covers the years 1970 to 1980 and looks at the end of The Beatles, McCartney’s marriage to Linda and the early days of their family on through the formation and eventual end of his band, Wings.
For as much time and energy as I’ve spent following Paul McCartney’s musical and creative endeavors, I had not fully appreciated the enormous life challenges he faced. You may be aware of the daunting task he had in following The Beatles in terms of both creativity and commercial success, but that was only part of the challenge. He had also just married Linda, adopted Linda’s daughter Heather and quickly became a father to baby Mary.
Paul had to learn how to restart his career, be a husband and be a father, all at once. No wonder he was drinking too much! Fortunately for him and everyone else involved, that didn’t last long, thanks in large part to the support of Linda. The film discusses how she encouraged him to keep a sense of freedom and spontaneity in not only how they lived but in his artistic decisions. Many times in the past, McCartney has said that when he would question himself about doing something offbeat, she would say, “It’s allowed.” He has said he found that to be very liberating. I believe this is really important to appreciate and understand his body of work. This willingness to take risks is one reason he’s been such an inspiration to me as a songwriter.
My thirst for all things McCartney has led to a lifetime of devouring just about every interview, film and B-side that’s out there, along with books and bootlegs. Still, there were some new things I learned and enjoyed seeing/hearing about. I found this to be a really enjoyable film. It sounds great, and the visual treatments are wonderful. I strongly suggest seeing it.
One dramatic moment in the film touched me in a remarkedly profound and unexpected way. To appreciate that connection, I need to take you back in time to not only what I was doing in the hours leading up to the screening but also to a time in my life 52 years ago.
Earlier in the day, I had been at Postal Recording Studios with Recording Engineer and Co-producer Tyler Watkins. The Brains Behind Pa has been working on an expansive set of music since just before COVID. Those sessions, nicknamed The Pony Expressions Recording Sessions, include over 40 songs resulting in three full-length albums. The first, Beggars Belief, has been out since March of 2025. The second, titled Ask the Horse, is finished and will be released later this year. Currently we are wrapping up the mixing of the third one, which brings me to why I was at the studio with Tyler. We are down to the very last song of this seven-year journey.
The song is called “The Unexpected Guest.” It was written quite a long time ago and to be honest, I don’t recall much about writing it. Although I’m sure I must have done at least some lyric editing, I do remember that for the most part, the words just spilled out at once, without a second thought, as can happen. Although many times a verse or chorus comes out of nowhere, rarely does a full or nearly complete song. When intriguing words show up with no premeditation, the task becomes one of deciding whether to leave the words, change them or massage them into something more easily interpreted.
Some songs have a spirit about them. Maybe they all do and some are just stronger than others. But this one definitely did, so I left the lyrics pretty much intact. Here is the first verse and chorus:
He was no sinner – he was no Saul
He was no patron saint at all
I found him familiar – I found him odd
I found him child-like – ageless as God (ancient as God)
He broke outside despite the cages
Stood outside despite the rain
He ran inside where the fire rages
Facing off in a game of holy chess
Warring with this unexpected guest
Sometimes there’s a lot behind a song. Initially, I thought this song was about Christ. A holy spirit’s presence that the singer doesn’t want to face. But I didn’t really want the song to be limited to that idea, and I wasn’t convinced that’s what it was about. Yet while any song is open to interpretation, this one certainly has a spiritual or at least inspirational aspect to it. Perhaps it is simply about profound inspiration. Maybe the “guest” is a muse of some sort. Maybe I was writing something truly unconscious? All I knew for sure was that it resonated within me in some timeless way.
The music is slow and easy. The band—Garry Bole on Hammond organ, Gordon Bonham and me on electric guitars, Jeff Stone on fretless bass and Devon Ashley on drums—seems so relaxed and understated on this recording. Garry’s Hammond part is dreamy and atmospheric, the fretless and drums have a smooth groove and Gordon’s guitar solo is understated, but speaks volumes. That leaves the singer, who is me.
One thing I will say about myself as a songwriter: I am really good at writing songs that I can’t sing or play or both. The little guitar figure I did throughout most of the song was a challenge for me to play slowly and cleanly from start to finish, but it was doable. The vocal melody, on the other hand, required sliding up to a falsetto at the beginning of each line of the chorus, which was a much bigger challenge.
Since the vocals were overdubbed last, I put it off for quite some time. Months ago, I recorded a vocal I liked for the verses, but the choruses were barely okay. I knew it wasn’t good enough. I told Tyler that I had to figure out how to sing this chorus. I’m a limited singer, and while conveying sincerity to the listener is critically important, I also have to make sure the vocals are as pleasant and palatable as possible. To do that, I have to understand what I can’t do and try to figure out what I can do to make the vocals both believable and enjoyable for the listener. Turns out, in order to sing more accurately and make those falsetto words more intelligible, I had to sing the chorus much more quietly than before.
I just didn’t want to foul this one up. I always liked this song, and it had found its place near the end of the third album. In the context of The Pony Expressions Recording Sessions, the third album is the hopeful statement—a sort of antidote to the darkness of the first album and the relationship songs of the second. This song along with a couple of others serves as something of a conclusion not only to the third album but also to all of the sessions.
I won’t say I nailed the choruses because that’s really up to the listener. I will say that what I did was a huge improvement over what I did before and it felt completely honest and satisfying to me. It was a relief. A big relief.
Speaking of these sessions… Over the course of the last seven years, a lot of stuff has been going down. We’re all aware of the state of the world right now. But in terms of this project, several people involved have faced significant life challenges. Life and health are easy to take for granted. Tyler and I were just discussing this very thing that morning. It’s so easy to take for granted how lucky we are to be doing what we are doing. Heck, electricity has barely been around for a nano-second, never mind recorded music. We are fortunate to be in good health, to be around at this moment in history doing what we love.
A bit more about the song:
Mountains in motion – history in bones
Dreams in near darkness – constant but unknown
Grace in hibernation – jubilees unseen
Junipers burning – charcoal to green (somehow back to green)
Images of time, life and desire. An image of unappreciated or perhaps internal grace and joy. An image of death and rebirth. The song was still a mystery to me but was starting to make more sense.
Back to the man on the run and his movie and that profound connection. One of the few things in the film I’d not heard until recently was the story of how Paul McCartney nearly drowned in Hawaii. It happened just before his hugely successful Wings Over America tour was scheduled to hit the U.S. McCartney and Wings had battled and overcome a lot to get to this point. But at this stage, Wings was taking a little time off before resuming the tour.
The McCartneys were staying in an oceanfront house. Not on a sandy beach but on a rocky shore with cliffs. The locals say the best way to get in the water is to wait until a wave comes over the rocks and let it sweep you out into the ocean. That’s also how you get out—letting the waves lift you back onto the rocks. Paul has done this over a couple of days and it works fine. But then one day, McCartney goes down again for a swim, and he gets in but can’t get out. The waves won’t dump him high enough. So now he is treading water in swirling white water among huge rocks and starting to get tired.
The film shows home movies of this rocky cove down below the house. Taken from above, the film clip even shows him standing on the rocks below. This scene is so ominous. We then hear his voice describing how he pleaded, “Okay, Lord. I’ll give it all I’ve got, but just dump me out!” The next wave came and lifted him right onto the rock. Just at the moment his life is saved, the film dramatically cuts to Wings on stage playing the first four notes of “Jet” from the Wings Over America tour. Ba bum-pa bum! And right into the song.
The quick scene cut was absolutely perfect. The effect was so powerful, electrifying. Brilliant film editing. I got shivers right up the spine. Aside from McCartney’s life being saved (no small thing), this was such a strange and beautiful moment for me personally. The emotions connected to this little cosmic flash are not an easy thing to write about or even completely understand because there are several, almost mystical aspects connected to it. There were subtle, parallel truths to my life that made this scene really hit home. Some of them were obvious to me. Others not so much.
The scene demonstrated the truth of McCartney’s belief that it was okay to take risks and do things his own way (it’s allowed) and if he did that, he would be successful, both creatively and commercially. Of course, history has shown that as well by the incredible body of work this man has created. And this moment also emphasized what a person can do when they’re given a second chance. Both a visual and musical moment drove these two ideas right into my brain… and heart. What an unexpected gift!
Why was this such a visceral thing to me? As a kid, Paul McCartney’s songs and albums were the first music that really caught my attention in a big way. There was other music that I liked and noticed, of course, but I was discovering his right at the time when the world was starting to open up to me. And it stuck. It has lasted. I have always been absolutely floored by his ability to write and record so many songs, none of which sound the same. That’s a topic for another time, but suffice it to say that his life of constant creation and his commitment to following his muse have inspired me ever since I first heard his music. And “Jet” was one of the very first songs of his that I remember really noticing and identifying with him. It’s a song that will always be connected to my experience of being a teenager discovering his freedom.
I was 12 in 1974 and was just finding out about popular music. Like so many other kids, I listened to Casey Kasem’s American Top 40 on WIFE AM in Indianapolis. And for a while, I would record songs from his show on my little portable Panasonic cassette tape recorder. I would even write down the top 40 for the week in a tiny notebook. The week of March 17 – 24, 1974, “Jet” was at number eight. Eventually, I started to buy records. The very first album I bought was the live, triple album, Wings Over America from that hugely successful tour.
So here it was again, used in the film juxtaposed so effectively to his second chance at life. A rebirth from the white water, so to speak, to go on and create a lifetime’s worth of music that has brought joy to millions. Yes, we are lucky to be able to make music, whether on a small scale or a McCartney scale. Either way, all of us are so fortunate to be alive to experience music. Whether you make music or just listen, music is a life-affirming gift.
Songs run through our lives. Through the good and the gritty. Through pain and through peace.
The second verse:
Generals conferring while chimney’s choke
Soldiers at the ready, dying for smoke
Grandfather clock – grandmother’s time
Grandchild reciting truths in rhyme (perfect every time)
I think this verse is about the betrayal by our leaders of our children, our future and our planet. It’s also about the innocence of children. That is a message from Christ; we must become like children. Not that we should behave like children, but we should learn something from the way children have a sense of wonder about the world. They are not jaded. They have not learned to hate. They are wide-eyed and ready to play. Their imaginations are free to roam. These are child-like but spiritually evolved traits. Remember rebirth (junipers burning – charcoal to green)?
There’s a child-like quality to creativity that many people find fascinating and others seem a bit frightened of. Paul McCartney has been described as a workaholic, but he says you don’t work music, you play music. John Lennon said that every child is an artist until they’re told they’re not. But society has a way of beating all of that joy and optimism out of children in the name of “growing up.” We’re told it’s not allowed anymore. Playtime is over, the wonder wrung out of us.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a baseball player. By high school, it became obvious that I wasn’t nearly talented enough to do that. Eventually, the arts, which had always been of interest to me, rose up, took hold and never let go. But when it came to committing my life to music, people kept telling me it’s not allowed.
Those well-meaning but ultimately misguided voices told me music was not a practical way to make a living, was of little value and therefore wasn’t deserving of much respect. Consequently, there was virtually no encouragement, only discouragement. In hindsight, I didn’t have the skills or confidence to pursue music anyway. I couldn’t visualize a path for that. And I wasn’t even sure what it was about music that was so appealing to me. But I damn well knew music had value no matter what others thought. So graphic design became my choice, and that’s been a fine way to make a living. I have been very lucky in that regard as well. But in my heart, music has always been first. Always.
To this very day, creating music is all I’ve ever really wanted to do (and hiking, of course). As Tyler and I agreed, we are so lucky. Not that it’s easy. Part of our discussion centered on challenges that we both face to be able to do what we do.
I cannot speak for Tyler, but personally I’ve battled self-doubt for most of my life. It’s a crazy mixture of enthusiasm, inspiration, occasional confidence and substantial doubt. Every day those elements show up in varying amounts. On no two days are the combinations the same. McCartney, who had his own period of self-doubt, was once asked what advice he would give to young artists, and he quoted Shakespeare: To thine own self be true. Every single one of us is unique. I believe to recognize that and live our lives unashamed of who we believe ourselves to be is akin to a lifetime pilgrimage.
Paul McCartney and William Shakespeare. Wise advice from two great men. In “Jet,” McCartney sang “climb on the back and we’ll go for a ride in the sky.” Yeah, I think so. If you know me, you know how I feel about the sky. It represents freedom, grace, opportunity, optimism, beauty and the thrill of just being alive. I think that’s what it’s all about. That childhood sense of wonder. And somehow this brief moment in this film, on this particular day, pulled together a lifetime’s worth of threads and unveiled a beautiful tapestry. All of those memories, all of those ideas and experiences exploded into a bright burst of light. A generous gift. A true epiphany. Moments like these are rare and fleeting.
It had been a long day that included a finalized part, song and album. A great film that was a personal confirmation for me of those two important words: “It’s allowed.” But what about that unexpected guest?
I came home from the documentary, but the day and the gift-giving were not over. As I settled in for the night, I put headphones on, turned out the lights and closed my eyes. I listened to the entire third album, which, was now finished. I wanted to hear “The Unexpected Guest” in the context of the whole record. As the songs flowed by, I felt so much relief. When “The Unexpected Guest” finally faded out, I felt that we’d done the song justice. But in that very moment, occurring to me in a flash not unlike the edit in the film, was that the real meaning of this song was not what I’d thought it was all along. Yes, it was about inspiration, but I realized and now understood that the unexpected guest was not someone else. The unexpected guest was me. This song was about accepting myself.
I like this song. I can’t wait for you to hear it.
My heart would pound but wound not sing
My eyes were sound but were not seeing
But my head was crowned without decreeing
Laying low he found me none-the-less
There’s no hiding now from the unexpected guest
