Egypt Station (2018)
1. Opening Station
2. I Don't Know
3. Come On to Me
4. Happy With You
5. Who Cares
6. Fuh You
7. Confidante
8. People Want Peace
9. Hand in Hand
10.Dominoes
11.Back in Brazil
12.Do it Now
13.Caesar Rock
14.Despite Repeated Warnings
15.Station II
16.Hunt You Down/Naked/C-Link
At this stage in Paul McCartney’s long and illustrious career, every new release arrives with a question quietly perched on its shoulder: could this be the last? Approaching his 80s, McCartney continues to record with a persistence that is both admirable and — at times — mystifying. While some elder statesmen of rock retreat into comfortable silence, Paul insists on pressing “record.” Unfortunately, Egypt Station makes one wish he’d pressed “pause” instead.
Which is particularly frustrating, as McCartney’s post-1989 output has been, on the whole, surprisingly robust. After a patchy run through the 1980s and the uneven waters of late-era Wings, McCartney entered a creative renaissance in the 1990s and 2000s, releasing a string of thoughtful, often beautifully crafted albums that, if ignored by the charts, earned the respect of critics and fans alike. Egypt Station, however, stumbles badly.
To be fair, McCartney has never been overly fussy when it comes to arrangements. Much of his solo work has a certain homespun, tossed-off charm — sometimes charmingly lo-fi, sometimes casually produced. It works when the songwriting is strong enough to carry the slack. But here, the usual McCartney magic is oddly absent. The hooks are there in theory, but they rarely land.
Take Come On to Me or Fuh You: both have the skeleton of catchy, serviceable pop tracks, but they’re let down by jarring production choices and lyrics that veer from the simplistic to the embarrassing. Elsewhere, tracks blur into each other in a haze of overproduction and under-editing. The melodies, so often McCartney’s saving grace, are fragmentary — good ideas that never quite congeal.
A few moments do stand out. Who Cares is a stomping, if unsubtle, anti-bullying anthem that sounds better than it reads. I Don’t Know opens the album on a contemplative note — a minor-key piano ballad that suggests deeper emotional terrain. But these tracks are islands in a sea of filler.
The album’s greatest sin may be its sheer indistinctness. After several listens, one would be hard pressed to match track names to actual tunes. Egypt Station becomes background music in the most damning sense: not because it’s soothing, but because it’s so rarely compelling.
The "Explorer Edition" tacks on an additional six studio cuts and several live tracks — none of which alter the equation in any meaningful way. The new songs, while not actively offensive, do little to improve upon what’s already present, and in terms of quality, they simply reaffirm the muddled inconsistency of the parent album.
McCartney has earned the right to do as he pleases, and if Egypt Station brought him joy, that is reason enough for it to exist. But for listeners hoping for the sharpness, clarity, and charm that recently seemed effortless, this is a detour best taken with modest expectations.
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