When Paul McCartney opened his 2020 album McCartney III with “Long Tailed Winter Bird,” it felt less like a conventional song and more like an invitation into his creative world. Built on a hypnotic guitar riff that loops and unfolds with quiet persistence, the track is a study in mood — raw, atmospheric, and full of the restless energy that has defined Paul’s music for more than half a century.
The song doesn’t rush. It begins with a spiraling acoustic figure, intricate yet earthy, that immediately sets a meditative tone. Over this foundation, layers of percussion, bass, and subtle textures slowly accumulate, creating a sense of forward motion without ever losing its intimacy. It feels like watching an artist sketch in real time — spontaneous, exploratory, alive.
Vocally, Paul’s contributions are minimal, almost mantra-like: “Do you, do you, do you…” The repetition doesn’t spell out a narrative; instead, it becomes part of the rhythm, a texture within the music. In this way, the song feels closer to a meditation than a story — less about words and more about feeling, atmosphere, and immersion.
What makes “Long Tailed Winter Bird” so compelling is its blend of simplicity and depth. On the surface, it’s just a riff, repeated and expanded. But with each new layer — a drum pattern here, a shift in dynamics there — the song evolves, holding the listener’s attention the way a fire crackles or a bird circles endlessly in the sky.
As the opening track on McCartney III, it set the tone for the album: experimental, personal, and unpolished in the best sense. Recorded largely alone during lockdown, the song reflects solitude but also resilience. It’s music as process, as meditation, as survival — Paul turning quiet hours into sound that pulses with life.
In the end, “Long Tailed Winter Bird” is not a pop single or a radio hit; it’s something rarer — a window into Paul McCartney’s creative spirit at its most free. It proves that even after decades of crafting some of the world’s most beloved songs, he still delights in exploration, in letting music wander, in seeing where a single riff can lead. It is the sound of an artist not repeating the past, but still searching, still discovering, still alive in the present.
Paul McCartney – Long Tailed Winter Bird