![]() ![]() It’s the end of 2020, the kid is 78 years old and is widely regarded as having made more great songs than anyone else alive. His early efforts included a jaunty number, written when he was sixteen, called When I’m Sixty-Four. He’d heard his dad play a tune of his own, a party piece, and now he thought he would have a crack at it himself. ![]() After falling in love with rock n’roll, he didn’t renounce the songs on which he’d been raised - right from the beginning, he wanted all of it. Then there were the songs he listened to wearing Bakelite headphones: songs that arrived over crackling airwaves from pirate radio songs by Americans, black and white songs with booming beats and wild cries that made his heart jump and his blood sing. Folk songs, show-tunes, pop hits, jazz standards, music hall numbers. For years he had been breathing in songs from radio and TV and movies and family singalongs. ![]() In 1956, when Paul McCartney was 14, he sat down at his Dad’s piano and tried to come up with his own song. ![]()
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