Wall of Paul

Technically speaking, “Electric Arguments” is the latest release by The Fireman, an unlikely duo that consists of Sir Paul and a British producer-musician who calls himself “Youth.” Although most people failed to notice, McCartney and Youth (who also plays bass for the band Killing Joke) released a handful of critically well-received instrumental dance tracks about 10 years ago, then pumped out a rather noodling album of more of the same. And that seemed to be that.

But the Fireman secretly reconvened last year, and this time Youth convinced McCartney to write tunes complete with lyrics. Then McCartney laid down an eclectic array of instrumentation, and the two men arranged everything into a trippy soundscape that’s quite a distance removed from either Wings or the Beatles. The effect of hearing McCartney’s voice float through a shimmering synthesizer current can be simultaneously thrilling and disorienting, like watching Tony Bennett suddenly turn a back-flip.

The 13 tracks were written and recorded in a grand total of 13 days, with McCartney playing all the instruments— a quickie approach that pays surprisingly high dividends. This is something utterly different from one of the founding fathers of modern pop, and, when it works, it works in a big way. No one’s likely to mistake it for “Be-Bop-A-Lula,” that’s for sure.

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The first track, “Nothing Too Much Just Out of Sight,” opens with a burst of blues harmonica, then a phalanx of roaring guitars that are vaguely reminiscent of late-period Wings. But that tinge of familiarity is hammered into dust by a cacophonous arrangement that includes McCartney’s distorted vocal and a smoking, Springsteenian guitar solo. “Nothing Too Much Just Out of Sight” is the only real “rock & roll” number on “Electric Arguments” - Led Zeppelin by way of Mars? - but it definitely kicks some ass.

The album covers a ridiculous amount of ground. Several moody ballads are initially Paul-like, but quickly skew off into obscure chord progressions and growling vocals. Other tracks are weed-scented trance experiments that repeatedly shift shapes as they unfold. My favorite of these are the Eastern-tinged “Lifelong Passion,” and, especially, “Lovers in a Dream,” which resembles an Islamic chant coupled with electric whale calls, backed by the synthesized, arrested-at-the-airport riff from “Midnight Express.”

I know these descriptions are a bit much, but chunks of the album are a bit much, by obvious design. You find yourself grasping for words to convey the catchy oddity of it all.

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Still, two of the more conventionally-structured tracks are as dazzling as anything in McCartney’s post-Beatle canon. “Dance till We’re High” and “Sing the Changes” would both be immediate hit singles if people actually embraced hit singles these days, rather than converting them into split-second ringtones for their cell phones.

“Dance till We’re High” is a souped-up Phil Spector homage (it opens with the drumbeat from “Be My Baby”) that rises to a spine-tingling crescendo. Again, layers of sound build upon one another, with the sudden appearance of a string section standing as perhaps the most stirring moment on the entire record.

It’s no secret, of course, that McCartney is a profoundly gifted melodist, but one of his less-discussed signatures is the ability to shift a tune skyward in the bridge. “Dance till We’re High”’s chorus glistens as brightly as any he’s ever written, and the sheer sonic power of the track is glorious.

“Sing the Changes,” the first single off the album, matches "Dance till We're High" in celestial appeal, and then some. An unrepentantly joyous, gospel-tinged hymn to the gift of being alive, it starts off at a high point, then soars in the stratosphere for three minutes and forty-four seconds. A ringing electric guitar in the left stereo channel drives the tune along while background vocals dance throughout the mix, supported by increasingly rumbling percussion. Like so many great McCartney songs, you can listen to it over and over again, and never tire of its big-hearted invention.

In anybody else’s hands, "Sing the Changes"' ecstasy could be embarrassing. But, as it proceeds, you hear a man who has absolutely nothing left to prove reconfirming his standing as one of the more dazzling musical artists of the past 50 years. The call-and-response vocal alone is enough to make your head spin.

Although “Electric Arguments” is a consistently entertaining, often startling album, “Sing the Changes” is breathtaking, a mini pop masterpiece. McCartney may not always have the will to do it, but when he hooks into his creative slipstream, he’s a true believer. And he always takes you along for the ride.