We've had our differences, Sir Paul, too many go into here (“Silly Love Songs,” “Let Em In,” “Ebony and Ivory”). I miss the simple Beatles songs that you crafted, some so beautiful (“Martha My Dear,” “Eleanor Rigby,” “Yesterday,” “And I Love Her,” and on and on) that you can't imagine them not existing in this world. But with a few exceptions, I never bought too much into the solo stuff. It seemed like you were trying too hard. Like it was so important to distance yourself from that Lennon fella that you kinda messed up your mojo. I don't know. I don't feel good about not liking your solo stuff as much as I should. My sister did her best. She inculcated me into the Church of Macca when I was 12.

(Read Kristine McKenna's great LA Weekly interview with Paul McCartney here.)

But when I discovered the Clash, something about Lennon drew me in. Lennon was the punk. McCartney had Wings and was releasing his early-80s triteness. We grew further apart. I got pig headed. Started resenting you. Wanted to sit down and reason with you. I don't know. I mean, I do love you. But, like the ex that you run into out on the street and get all awkward around, we've never actually resolved our differences. I'm willing to try. Bury this weirdness.

So could you play “Jet” tomorrow night at Coachella? It's not one of your bigger songs. A lot of people don't realize it's even your song. But it's my favorite non-Beatles one that you do (that and, for some reason, “Soily”), and it would mean the world to me if you did it. Sir Paul. Please. Play “Jet.” I once saw Boston band Big Dipper do a cover version of it, and it made me hear the song in a different way — not as a song by a former Beatle, but as a rock solid object that moved in perfect motion at every turn. Every decision you made about the song — what to say, where to put the bridge, the way you scream the words — was the right one.

I don't even know what it's about. It just works.

And please don't play “Silly Love Songs.” PLEASE. That song gets in my head and won't go away. It's a sucky song. Don't play it. But if you could play “Jet,” well, that would be great. And “Rocky Racoon” would be cool. But if you play “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da” I'm frickin' leaving. Unless you follow it up with “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reggae,” in which case I'm going to go nuts. Oh, and if you could do the entirety of Back to the Egg, that would be cool. Macca does disco! Or “Temporary Secretary” (Macca does synthpop), or “Magneto and Titanium Man,” which is just a really good song.

Okay? Thanks. Keep doing what you do. Except when you do things I don't want you to. Don't do those things.

LA Weekly