You know that thumping, military-style drumbeat. It sounds like someone is literally marching across your living room floor. Then comes that simple, almost nursery-rhyme flute melody. Before you know it, you're humming along to one of the most polarizing yet successful tracks of the 1970s. The let em in song—officially titled "Let 'Em In" by Paul McCartney and Wings—is a masterclass in how Macca can turn a mundane doorbell chime into a global hit.
It’s a weird track. Honestly.
Critics at the time sort of hated it. They called it "banal" or "lightweight." But while the music snobs were busy complaining, the song was climbing all the way to number 2 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1976. It stayed there for weeks. People couldn't get enough of the breezy, hospitable vibe. But if you look past the "someone's knocking at the door" hook, there’s actually a lot of personal history buried in those lyrics. It isn't just a song about houseguests; it’s a roll call of the people Paul actually cared about during a transitional decade of his life.
Who Exactly Is Paul Inviting In?
Most listeners just vibe with the rhythm and don't think twice about the names Paul name-checks in the second verse. He shouts out "Sister Suzie," "Brother John," "Martin Luther," and "Uncle Ernie." For years, casual fans thought these were just random names that fit the meter of the song.
They weren't.
"Sister Suzie" is a direct nod to his wife, Linda McCartney. Before she was a McCartney, she was Linda Eastman, and she had once recorded under the pseudonym Suzie and the Red Stripes. It’s an inside joke, basically. Then you have "Brother John." While many Beatles fanatics desperately want this to be a peace offering to John Lennon, Paul has clarified in various interviews over the years—including his massive 2021 book Lyrics—that he was actually referring to Linda’s brother, John Eastman.
Then there is "Uncle Ernie." If you’re a fan of The Who, that name might ring a bell because Keith Moon played a character called Uncle Ernie in the film version of Tommy. McCartney was friends with the band and the reference was a tip of the hat to that era's rock-and-roll circus. As for "Martin Luther," it’s widely accepted as a reference to the civil rights leader, though some fans argue it might be an obscure reference to another friend. Given Paul’s penchant for mixing the personal with the political, the MLK nod fits the "open door" theme of universal brotherhood perfectly.
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The Production Magic of the 1970s
Wings was often viewed as Paul’s "rebound" band after the Beatles' messy breakup, but by the time the At the Speed of Sound album rolled around in 1976, they were a stadium-filling juggernaut. The let em in song was recorded at Abbey Road, and the production is deceptively complex.
Listen to the dynamics.
It starts with that vibraphone—mimicking a Westminster Quarters doorbell—and builds with a very deliberate, steady piano rhythm. The brass section, featuring a crisp flugelhorn solo, gives it a soulful, almost New Orleans funeral march feel, but brightened up for the radio. McCartney’s bass playing here is also worth a second look. It’s melodic and "walks" around the chords in a way that provides the song's primary forward momentum.
It’s incredibly sparse. Compared to the wall-of-sound production common in the mid-70s, "Let 'Em In" breathes. There’s a lot of "air" in the recording. This was a deliberate choice. Paul wanted the listener to feel like they were sitting in the room with him while the door kept swinging open.
Cultural Impact and the Billy Paul Cover
You can't talk about the let em in song without talking about the covers. Usually, when a Beatle writes a song, the original remains the definitive version forever. This time, things got interesting.
The legendary soul singer Billy Paul (of "Me and Mrs. Jones" fame) took the track and completely transformed it. He changed the names. In his version, he shouts out figures like Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr., Medgar Evers, and Louis Armstrong. He turned a quirky pop tune into a powerful civil rights anthem.
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McCartney loved it.
He’s often spoken about how much he enjoys seeing his songs reinterpreted, especially when they take on a social weight he might not have originally intended. Billy Paul’s version reached the top 30 in the UK and became a staple of the Philadelphia Soul scene. It’s a rare instance where the cover version adds a layer of gravitas that the original intentionally avoided.
Why the Song Still Works in 2026
It’s easy to dismiss this track as "silly love songs" era fluff. But in a world that feels increasingly closed off and divided, a song that is literally about opening the door and letting people in feels almost radical.
Musically, it’s a precursor to the "chill" lo-fi beats movement. If you stripped away the vocals, that drum and piano loop could easily sit on a modern Spotify study playlist. It has a "vibe" before that word was overused in marketing. The song doesn't try too hard. It’s confident. It’s the sound of a man who has already conquered the world twice over and just wants to write a tune his kids can dance to.
The song appeared in the 2011 film Bridesmaids, introducing it to a whole new generation who recognized the infectiousness of the "knocking" sound effect. It has this weird, persistent staying power.
Addressing the Criticism
Some people still find it annoying. Let's be honest. The repetition of "Somebody's knockin' at the door / Somebody's ringin' the bell" can get under your skin if you're not in the right mood. In a 1976 review, Rolling Stone was famously lukewarm on the album, suggesting McCartney was leaning too heavily into his "cute" persona.
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But history has been kinder. The let em in song is now viewed as a essential piece of 70s pop-rock architecture. It’s a lesson in restraint. In an era of ten-minute prog-rock solos, Paul gave us five minutes of a steady 4/4 beat and a list of his relatives.
And it worked.
Actionable Insights for Fans and Musicians
If you’re looking to dive deeper into the world of Wings or if you’re a songwriter trying to capture this specific magic, here are a few things to consider:
- Study the Basslines: Don't just listen to the lyrics. Isolate the bass track. McCartney uses the bass as a lead instrument, which is why his "simple" songs never feel empty.
- Check out the 12-inch Version: There is a longer disco-edit/promo version that highlights the percussion. If you think the radio edit is catchy, the extended version is a trip.
- Explore the Billy Paul Version: Listen to Billy Paul’s cover immediately after the original. It’s a fascinating case study in how changing a few names and the vocal delivery can shift the entire meaning of a piece of art.
- Context Matters: Listen to the full At the Speed of Sound album. This record was unique because Paul allowed every member of Wings—including Linda and guitarist Jimmy McCulloch—to take lead vocals on a track. "Let 'Em In" serves as the inviting gateway to this democratic experiment.
The brilliance of the song lies in its hospitality. It’s a literal invitation. Whether you’re a die-hard Beatles fan or someone who just likes a good melody, the door is always open.
Keep the rhythm steady. Use real-world inspiration for your lyrics. Don't be afraid of being "too simple." Sometimes, the best way to reach people isn't through a complex metaphor, but by simply asking them to come inside and sit down for a while.