There’s something hauntingly magnetic about “Long Tailed Winter Bird,” the opening track of Paul McCartney’s 2020 album McCartney III. Unlike many of his well-known ballads or chart-topping anthems, this piece feels almost like a journey into sound itself — a hypnotic instrumental landscape where Paul lets melody, rhythm, and atmosphere do the speaking.
Built on a looping acoustic guitar riff, the song unravels with layers of texture, blending folk-like strumming, subtle percussion, and Paul’s wordless vocal phrasing that feels more like an echo of the earth than a traditional lyric. The repeating question — “Do you, do you, do you miss me?” — is sparse but powerful, drifting in and out like a thought that keeps returning on a cold winter night.
What makes “Long Tailed Winter Bird” so compelling is its mystery. It isn’t a polished pop single meant for radio; it’s an invitation into McCartney’s private creative space, where ideas grow organically. The song has a rustic, almost meditative quality, evoking wide open skies, barren trees, and the quiet endurance of winter. It’s both restless and soothing — a reminder that music doesn’t always need to explain itself to be deeply felt.
In many ways, this track reflects McCartney’s artistry at its purest: experimental, fearless, and unafraid of simplicity. At nearly eight minutes long, it doesn’t rush. Instead, it allows the listener to wander with it, to breathe, to reflect. It feels less like a performance and more like a conversation between the artist and his instrument, a window into the heart of a man who, after decades of making music, still finds joy in the act of creation itself.
“Long Tailed Winter Bird” may not carry the universal singalong appeal of “Let It Be” or “Maybe I’m Amazed,” but it has something equally profound: the raw spirit of a musician still searching, still exploring, and still capable of surprising us. It’s Paul McCartney, stripped down to essence — sound, feeling, and the freedom of expression.