Why Red Rose Speedway Still Matters: The Paul McCartney and Wings Album Nobody Understood

Why Red Rose Speedway Still Matters: The Paul McCartney and Wings Album Nobody Understood

Look, let’s be real. In the spring of 1973, everyone was waiting for Paul McCartney to finally "be a Beatle" again. He’d spent a couple of years hiding out on his farm in Scotland, making lo-fi records like McCartney and Wild Life that, frankly, confused the hell out of the critics. People wanted Sgt. Pepper. They got "Bip Bop."

Then came Paul McCartney and Wings with Red Rose Speedway.

It’s a weird record. Honestly, it’s one of the most misunderstood pieces of the McCartney puzzle. It wasn't the world-conquering masterpiece that Band on the Run became a few months later, but it wasn't the "shambolic" mess the press claimed it was either. It’s this dreamy, melodic, slightly stoned middle ground where Paul was trying to figure out how to be a frontman again while pretending he was just "one of the guys" in a band.

The Double Album That Almost Was

One of the biggest things people get wrong about Red Rose Speedway is thinking it was always meant to be a single, polished pop record. It wasn't. Originally, Paul envisioned this thing as a massive double album.

He had a mountain of material. Some of it was left over from the Ram sessions in 1971—stuff like "Get on the Right Thing" and the gorgeous "Little Lamb Dragonfly"—and some was fresh material recorded with the new five-piece lineup of Wings. At the time, the band had just added Henry McCullough on lead guitar, a guy who brought a much-needed grit to Paul’s melodic tendencies.

So, why did it shrink? Basically, the label got cold feet.

Apple Records was already planning to release the "Red" and "Blue" Beatles compilations. They didn't want a sprawling, experimental double LP from Paul competing for shelf space. They pushed for a single disc. Paul trimmed the fat, and while that made the album more "commercial," it also left a lot of the weird, interesting stuff on the cutting room floor for decades.

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If you’ve ever wondered why the second side ends with an 11-minute medley that feels a bit like a jigsaw puzzle, that’s why. It’s Paul trying to squeeze all those leftover ideas into one final blowout.

"My Love" and the Solo That Changed Everything

You can't talk about Red Rose Speedway without talking about "My Love." It was the lead single. It hit Number 1 in the US. It stayed there for weeks.

For a lot of people, this song is the ultimate 70s "Dad rock" ballad. It’s syrupy. It’s got a massive orchestra. But there’s a legendary story behind that recording that shows just how high the stakes were.

Paul had written a specific guitar solo for the song. He wanted Henry McCullough to play it exactly as written. But right before the red light went on at Abbey Road—with a full orchestra sitting there waiting—Henry walked up to Paul and said, "Do you mind if I try something else?"

Think about that. You’re the new guy in a band led by the most successful songwriter in history. You’re about to record a live take with an expensive orchestra. And you tell Paul McCartney his solo isn't good enough.

Paul, to his credit, said, "Go for it."

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Henry improvised that soaring, bluesy solo on the spot. It’s arguably the best moment on the entire album. It took the song from a standard ballad to something genuinely soul-stirring. It gave Wings a spine.

Why the Critics Hated It (And Why They Were Wrong)

When the album dropped on May 4, 1973, the reviews were... harsh. Robert Christgau, the self-proclaimed "Dean of American Rock Critics," basically called it "ghastly." Others said Paul’s talent was "evaporating."

Why the hate?

  1. The Beatles Shadow: People were still comparing everything to Abbey Road.
  2. The "Lightweight" Factor: Songs like "Single Pigeon" or "C Moon" (which was a single from the same era) felt "twee" to critics who wanted political grit or hard rock.
  3. The Credit Change: This was the first time it wasn't just "Wings." It was "Paul McCartney and Wings." Critics saw it as Paul finally admitting he was the boss, which they found arrogant.

But here’s the thing: those critics missed the sheer craft. Red Rose Speedway is a masterclass in melody. Even the "silly" songs have hooks that stay in your head for days. "Little Lamb Dragonfly" is a legitimate masterpiece of multi-tracked vocals and acoustic layering. It’s easily as good as anything on The White Album.

That Extravagant (and Strange) Artwork

The cover is a trip. It’s a tight shot of Paul’s face with a red rose in his mouth, but the back cover and the original booklet were where things got weird.

The artwork was a collaboration between Linda McCartney (who took the photos) and Eduardo Paolozzi, a pioneer of the Pop Art movement. Fun fact: Paolozzi actually taught art to Stuart Sutcliffe, the "fifth Beatle," back in Hamburg. It’s a weird full-circle moment for the McCartney legacy.

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The original LP also had a Braille message on the back cover for Stevie Wonder that said "We love you." It was an era of Paul being his most "Paul"—whimsical, a bit messy, but deeply human.

How to Listen to It Today

If you’re just getting into Red Rose Speedway, don't just stick to the standard 9-track version. In 2018, Paul released a "reconstructed" double album version as part of his Archive Collection.

That’s the way to hear it.

You get tracks like "The Mess" (recorded live at The Hague) and "Country Dreamer" that give the album a much wider, more adventurous feel. It turns a "pretty good" pop record into a fascinating document of a band trying to find its footing.

Your Red Rose Speedway Checklist:

  • The Must-Heads: "Big Barn Bed," "Little Lamb Dragonfly," and "Get on the Right Thing."
  • The Deep Cut: "Loup (1st Indian on the Moon)." It’s an instrumental that sounds nothing like "The Beatles" and everything like a weird, psychedelic experiment.
  • The Context: Listen to it right before Band on the Run. You can hear the exact moment Paul decides he’s done being "just a guy in a band" and starts aiming for the stadiums again.

The album isn't perfect. It’s a bit soft in the middle. It’s definitely "of its time." But if you want to understand how Paul McCartney survived the 70s, you have to start here. It’s the sound of a man who realized he didn't need to be a Legend every single second—he just needed to write a few good tunes and have some fun with his friends.

Next Step: Go find the 2018 "Reconstructed" double album version on your favorite streaming service. Skip the singles you already know and start with "Night Out" and "Seaside Woman." It’ll completely change how you view this era of Wings.