Wings were not to the seventies what The Beatles were to the sixties. They did not, as is claimed here, define the decade. Others, representing glam and punk, did. Yet the more decades pass from contemporaneous context, the brighter the dazzle of Macca’s muse in that era shines.
It’s time to stop quoting the old Alan Partridge gag with a smirk. They were what The Beatles could have been if Paul had been given free rein, and as such, flew like a bird, astonished at its own gifts, between savant inspiration, sporadic silliness, and some very, very good rock music in between. This “best of”, then, cherry-picks the torrents of genius, and is therefore titanic.
