Corvan's Cavern
Rock & Words
THE BOYS OF DUNGEON LANE (2026)
Artist: Paul McCartney
Recording Dates: 2021-2026
Release Date: May 29th, 2026. UK
Record Label: Capitol / MPL
Producer: Paul McCartney & Andrew Watt
Calificación: 8
Era: The Great Transition (1970-???)
Subgenre: The Great Transition
Best Song: Days We Left Behind o Momma Gets By
Tracklist:1) As You Lie There; 2) Lost Horizon; 3) Days We Left Behind; 4) Ripples in a Pond; 5) Mountain Top; 6) Down South; 7) We Two; 8) Come Inside; 9) Never Know; 10) Home To Us; 11) Life Can Be Hard; 12) First Star of the Night; 13) Salesman Saint; 14) Momma Gets By.
Reviewing a newly released album is tricky, at least for me. I’ve always said that a game of chess looks different from the outside. Well, reviewing an album also requires stepping back a bit to view the big picture and understand what sparked it: the hunger of a debut album? Fulfilling a contract? Artistic evolution? Staying in the public eye? Sweeping the Grammys? A genuine creative need? Expressing a specific moment in life? A statement of principles? Simply money? And, if possible, observing the impact of the move: Is the artist going for the queen, the rook, a war of attrition, or a checkmate? In the music world, an album’s trajectory is often unpredictable. True gems can go unnoticed, while other albums shake up and revolutionize rock music without ever intending to (like Nevermind). Some even achieve cult status over time despite making little impact upon release (like Odessey and Oracle or The Velvet Underground & Nico). That’s why I find it difficult to review an album that has just come out; first impressions are often wrong. It happened to me with Death Magnetic, No Line on the Horizon, and others. Even Rolling Stone constantly fell into this trap and had to revise its verdicts later on.
That makes reviewing The Boys of Dungeon Lane incredibly complicated. I think the biggest risk lies in the critic's own stance; ultimately, a review is a purely subjective matter, and one can be swayed by the album's emotional pull, or by a certain coldness that might lead to unfairly tearing apart a good record.
I had to re-listen to almost all of Paul McCartney’s discography from Off the Ground onwards to get a sense of where this album fits in. We have to acknowledge that Paul’s creative peak after leaving the Beatles occurred during the first half of the 1970s. A slump followed, which was to be expected, as it is impossible to stay at the very top for more than five or seven years. Then came another excellent period, kicking off with 1993’s Off the Ground (and here’s the subjective part: while critics generally rate it poorly, I consider it his third-best record from the 90s revival to the present day); it continued with the superb Flaming Pie and concluded with Chaos and Creation in the Backyard, which we can regard as his last truly great album.
The albums released in between and since are good, but just that: good. They still sound like Paul; sometimes he experiments a bit, as on III; sometimes he’s more melodic; other times, more rock-oriented. But I think that, in general, even artists of the stature of the Rolling Stones and Paul McCartney were struck in the mid-2000s by the "disease" that swept through the music industry. We have slowly reverted to the "single" era due to streaming. The world changed with technology, whether we like it or not. Consumption habits shifted, and, consciously or not, the supply had to adapt. New generations don't consume albums anymore; they only listen to the tracks of the moment, "bubblegum" songs you chew on and spit out to move on to the next one. Somehow, this mindset has trickled down even to artists accustomed to releasing full albums, even to someone like Paul, who fought to change that model back in 1965 to finally establish the album as a cohesive unit. Unlike in the 90s or even the early 2000s, LPs today often feel like two or three singles padded with filler just to justify the "LP" label. I also wonder if the vinyl revival, now the only way artists can maintain some control over physical sales in the face of streaming, has intensified this trend over the last seven or eight years.
It is curious that six years have passed since McCartney III, marking Paul’s longest gap between albums in a long time, even though it feels as if it came out just a year or two ago. Perhaps due to the massive tour, the release of Anthology IV, the work on "Now And Then", or the remastering of the Get Back audio for Peter Jackson’s documentary, Paul seems to be constantly occupied with one thing or another.
Perhaps that period of focusing on the Beatles is what made Paul turn so retrospective. After all, Boys of Dungeon Lane is an ode to nostalgia. It is McCartney looking back at his origins, not the Beatles, but further back: to Liverpool, to the days before the Beatles, when they were simply a gang of teenagers with guitars in hand, trying to fit in and make sense of the world. The album looks toward his parents. Toward the lean post-war years. Toward George. Toward John. Toward his first crush. Toward the days when everything lay ahead and no one knew those lads would end up changing the history of music forever. In that regard, the album is incredibly effective. A kid from Generation Z or Alpha who doesn't know much about Paul's history might not connect with that emotional weight, but for those of us who view Paul as a kindly figure, and know his story inside out, the album will really hit home.
McCartney himself has explained that Dungeon Lane is a place near Forthlin Road, where he once lived, and that the album seeks to recapture memories of his childhood and youth in Liverpool; the impact it makes is, therefore, no coincidence. The Boys of Dungeon Lane has a tremendous ability to evoke nostalgia. There are beautiful moments, melodies that stick with you, and various details that will bring a smile to any Beatles fan's face. I think that is why so many reviews harp on the "Great Comeback" angle, something they seem to say with almost every album. Yet, one must acknowledge that it falls short of the compositional caliber and depth found in Flaming Pie and Chaos and Creation... At this stage, giants like McCartney and the Stones (whose turn is coming up soon) are no longer measured solely against their peers or the current musical landscape; they are measured against themselves. By that standard, The Boys of Dungeon Lane offers some magnificent moments, others that are quite charming, and a fair number of songs that simply come and go without leaving much of a mark.
It isn't a bad record, then. Buuuuut, if you strip away the layers of nostalgia, you realize it feels as though Paul is, for the first time in a long while, trying hard to sound like Paul. New, Egypt Station, and III were somewhat more experimental; Paul seemed a bit out of his comfort zone, crafting tracks that aligned more with contemporary trends. I’m not saying the result was necessarily better (I don’t know if we’ll ever forgive him for "Fuh You"), but here, despite the occasional spark, it all feels a bit like déjà vu: Paul forcing himself to sound like himself, with songs that seem to matter more for what they represent than for the music itself.
Paul played most of the instruments. He didn't do “everything” himself as he did on III, but Andrew Watt encouraged him once again to forgo his live band and record the majority of the instrumentation personally. They didn't clash the way he did with Nigel Godrich during the Chaos and Creation sessions, though the outcome isn't the same, either. That said, Watt himself contributed some guitar, synthesizer, Mellotron, and drum parts, among other instruments. Ringo, of course, contributed drums and vocals to “Home To Us”; there are backing vocals from Chrissie Hynde herself, vocals from Nancy McCartney, and contributions from a few other musicians on supporting instruments, so it isn’t a McCartney IV in the strict sense, though it must be acknowledged that Paul did “almost” everything.
The album kicks off with “As You Lie There”, featuring very strange, almost dissonant acoustic guitar chords and Paul reciting the opening lines. During the album's promotion, Paul released several clips or mini-interviews; in one, he mentioned how, as young men, they would be struck by new, novel-sounding chords, the kind that gave rise to songs like “Michelle” or “Blackbird”. This track features one of those fascinating chords he had kept in reserve. Paul begins by revealing how he used to pass by someone’s house (Dot Rhone, his first girlfriend?) to catch a glimpse of her silhouette in the window, wondering if she ever thought of him (wherever she might be). At the 30-second mark, the piano takes the lead as the vocal melody enters; at 50 seconds, a fierce drum roll ushers in a very Harrison-esque guitar part. Paul unleashes his fury, transforming the track into a rocker. Then, the lyrics shift from past to present tense; amidst his roar, that childhood window transforms into the distance and time that now separates him from the girl, and he asks:
“As you lie across the bed
Am I there inside your head?
As you lie there
As you lie there”
The song thus travels from the almost peculiar tenderness of the opening, and that trademark melodic quality, to a Helterskelter-esque fury (or denial?), proving he can still push his voice to the limit. At the three-minute mark, there is an interesting instrumental break where bass and guitar vie for the spotlight, followed by a return to the furious, reproach-filled choruses, before closing with the most melodic section. It is almost like three or four different songs rolled into one, yet somehow, it all works together. It vaguely recalls the Paul of the 70s and, structurally, bears a faint resemblance to “Live and Let Die”, though it possesses a character all its own. The album opens on a high note, full of energy and featuring a somewhat daring, creative structure. However, the lyrics, whether directed at John or one of his early loves, strike a rather raw, unsettling note.
Next up is “Lost Horizon”; it has a promising title and a guitar with a very cool, gritty tone. But that’s about it. He supposedly wrote it in the early 2000s, but there was a reason he hadn’t released it. It’s a mid-tempo track driven by rock-style guitar. I imagine he tweaked the lyrics, a collection of images from the Liverpool of his youth, but the song falls far, very far short of the evocative power of “Penny Lane,” and it really isn't very memorable.
With “Days We Left Behind”, the focus shifts to Paul’s fragile voice and powerful images of the past images that, this time, DO work. The song is simple yet melodic and catchy, featuring an arpeggiated acoustic guitar progression, piano, and understated bass that create a deep sense of melancholy. But the real power lies in the lyrics and the vocals. Paul’s voice sounds, quite deliberately, like it’s on the verge of breaking. Old, weary. As if he’s barely got enough breath to get the words out. Well, we’ve already heard what he’s still capable of on “As You Lie There,” so I’m convinced this aged sound is entirely intentional. While the music is simple, the lyrics are pure gold. Paul delivers an introspective track of a kind he hasn't produced in a long time. It’s a reminiscence of his youth. “The Boys of Dungeon Lane” was perhaps the name of that childhood gang in Liverpool, back when you could leave the house after lunch and wander off all day until dinnertime. Some of them would go on to struggle (or lead “normal” lives?), while others were destined for greatness (the biggest band in history?).
“Nothing stays the same
No one needs to cry
Nothing can reclaim
The days we left behind”
The chorus varies slightly, but always revolves around this same central idea. Paul seems to be making peace with his own past—acknowledging the young boy running through the streets of Liverpool, and his friends: the ones who would go on to form the Beatles and the ones who wouldn't. And the promise made to John, a promise he keeps unveiled. And the world changes, "nothing stays the same", and no one can be blamed for that. Wars come and go, yet the birds keep singing. We ourselves are growing older. At 83, Paul wonders if his best days are behind him. A former Beatle! At 83!!! And here we are, complaining... The fact is, it is a simple yet powerful melody that becomes the album's true emotional core, a song that shakes you, much like "Now And Then" did the first time we heard the finished version. Its melody and emotional power make it one of the best tracks Paul has written in a long time.
“Ripples In A Pond” aims for a more contemporary and sophisticated sound. In a way, it reminds me of “Find My Way”, co-written with Beck in 2020, though that track felt more daring and original (and the video is a gem). “Ripples In A Pond” feels somewhat recycled, featuring a weaker, more generic melody; while the ascending scales in the bridge do work, the track is generally quite forgettable.
Then there’s “Mountain Top”, which is a significant improvement, thanks to a playful electric piano and a more solid melody. The thing is, it sounds familiar... er, as if Paul were copying a band that was paying tribute to him. It brings to mind Franz Ferdinand’s “Eleanor Put Your Boots On”, one of the most beautiful Beatles-esque songs ever written. That sense of déjà vu permeates the entire album! The lyrics don’t make much sense—perhaps a first mushroom trip? The song has its charm—a playful, psychedelic aura—until it takes a bit of a bad turn around the three-minute mark, leading to a somewhat out-of-place ending that breaks the spell a little. At the end, we hear a few hushed words from Nancy, Paul’s current wife. It’s not “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” nor does it try to be, but it offers a small window into the Paul of 1967–68. And that is precisely one of the album’s charms: McCartney isn’t trying to prove he can reinvent himself; he’s opening old boxes and pulling out memories. Musically, it’s not a highlight, but it has enough personality to avoid being mere filler.
“Down South” features McCartney front and center on acoustic guitar, telling the story of a hitchhiking trip to the south of England with George Harrison when they were just teenagers—not even knowing where they’d spend the night. It’s a small, rhythmic, simple song, yet it’s full of character. It feels as though Paul is sitting right there in the living room with us, singing an anecdote. It’s in the vein of "Blackbird", "Junk", or "Calico Skies". It lacks the particularly strong melody or delicate guitar work found in those other acoustic pieces, yet it possesses that almost cinematic quality characteristic of his best acoustic compositions: one can easily picture a young Paul and George traveling across England, having no inkling of what lay ahead for them. It is a lovely song, featuring a welcome nod to George, though musically, it isn't exactly a memorable track.
Next up is "We Two". It was recorded using an old Studer four-track machine, the same type the Beatles used, and towards the end, tape effects appear that directly evoke that era. Even the title seems to wink at "Two of Us". It is a simple, dreamy, very charming, and quintessentially McCartney song. Once again, there is lyrical ambiguity regarding whether it is addressed to John or is a more romantic track. Interestingly, for a long time I believed "Two of Us" was about John when it was actually about Linda, but I do think this song is meant for his friend, given its dreamlike references. It is one of those small tracks that likely grows on you with repeated listening, yet one that no one would miss if he didn't play it in concert.
"Come Inside" is where the trouble starts. It’s built around a reasonably cool riff, but aside from that, the song simply revolves around that riff; there isn't much compositional depth. It sounds like Paul trying to convince himself he’s the same guy who wrote "Helter Skelter", and trying to prove to us that the vocal fragility in "Days We Left Behind" was intentional. But the song feels forced, with lyrics that are downright silly. And then there’s Watt’s production... He tries to add a modern touch, but it doesn't quite work; it ends up sounding more like a Hackney Diamonds Rolling Stones outtake, only without the bite. That said, it does inject some much-needed rhythm into the album, even if it feels somewhat out of place.
Next up is "Never Know", a truly odd, slow track with a dreamlike quality. The title might be a nod to the final track on Revolver, though the song itself feels more akin to "I’m Only Sleeping," boasting a laid-back, almost psychedelic vibe and a particularly lovely arrangement. The instrumentation is intriguing: the recorder that pops up seems lifted straight from the "The Fool on the Hill" era, and there are backward recordings, too. Overall, it creates a mildly psychedelic atmosphere that harkens back to the McCartney of the late sixties, yet the verses lend it a Lennon-esque air, it could easily have fit on Mind Games. The choruses are strong and melodic, bearing Paul’s signature style. The vocal break near the two-minute mark is simply brilliant. The song drifts along gently, like a carousel ride, before culminating in a brief burst of guitars and backing vocals. It’s a lovely, experimental track that evokes the Beatles and John without sounding like a direct copy of anything specific, and it features a fantastic finish. It may not become a classic, but it’s certainly one of the album's highlights.
On "Home To Us", Ringo contributes both vocals and drums. It is true that they had collaborated before, mainly Paul on Ringo’s albums, or both on George’s, but I believe this is the first time Ringo has collaborated on a Paul album. The track is lovely, thoroughly Beatlesque, and once again filled with imagery evoking mid-50s Liverpool, with Paul and Ringo trading lead vocals. And yes, it is perhaps the catchiest song on the album. The problem is that it feels VERY generic, obvious, and unabashed, the sort of song they had in abundance during the Beatles era and would hand off to Ringo to sing. It is the clearest example of a track that carries a lot of emotional weight, yet without that sentiment, there isn't really much left. Chrissie Hynde of The Pretenders provided backing vocals here. Yes, hearing Paul and Ringo singing such a lighthearted song together will always be endearing and bring a smile to our faces, but…
Then there is “Life Can Be Hard”, one of those 1940s music-hall-style tracks that John used to refer to as “music for grannies.” Paul sings it in falsetto, with guitar arrangements that weave in and out of the piano. It is impossible not to be reminded of “When I’m Sixty-Four” when the arrangements become more elaborate and violins and oboes join in. Nevertheless, the melody is solid and charming, showcasing McCartney’s ability to transform a seemingly simple tune into something far more intricate. The lyrics touch on the ups and downs of love, but in their simplicity, they are quite pleasant. It doesn't quite reach the level of “My Valentine,” but it is a nice little song.
“First Star Of The Night”, on the other hand, comes across as simplistic and generic. It is another ballad, featuring acoustic guitar and an electric guitar arrangement, but with a very weak melody. The song stems from a real-life experience involving a rainy night at a concert in Costa Rica; McCartney turns it into a brief reflection on finding light after the storm. Coming after “Life Can Be Hard,” it feels somewhat unnecessary and slows the album’s momentum.
“Salesman Saint” begins the album’s epilogue with tracks dedicated to his parents. This one focuses a bit more on James McCartney. It is a track built on a sharp acoustic guitar foundation, with an old-school folk vibe. The melody is strong and full of character. The lyrics tell of a couple struggling to get by on a salesman’s wages and raise two children during wartime and times of scarcity, representing Liverpool’s working class. The instrumentation is also particularly interesting, blending folk elements with a sort of ghostly big-band/swing sound that emerges unexpectedly. There is a reference to his father’s piano—the first instrument Paul learned to play and the one on which his father taught him about harmonies. As a side note, John didn’t know how to harmonize when he met Paul; it was Paul who taught him, meaning we owe one of the Fab Four’s most distinctive trademarks to Jim McCartney.
The album closes with another melancholic gem—a strong contender for the album’s best track. “Momma Gets By” is dedicated to Mary McCartney, a nurse and midwife. With deep melancholy and a touch of pride, Paul recounts how she worked herself to the bone to bring money home, never complaining, and enduring her husband’s bad moods when he returned home grappling with his own troubles—thereby revealing the bond that united his parents. It is impossible not to be moved by the chorus—“Because she loves him, And she loves him with all her heart and soul”, sung with a delicate, almost crystalline quality. The orchestral production is simply sublime, and there is a kind of sadness hidden beneath the seemingly sweet melody. Paul’s aging voice works best when he accepts its limitations; when he tries to hit the notes he could reach fifty years ago, the passage of time inevitably makes itself heard. But when he sings from that more fragile place, we hear Paul McCartney, not the Paul McCartney of 1967, Band on the Run, or Flaming Pie, but the Paul McCartney of 2026. That is when he shines brightest on this record. The song is moving in its sincerity; while it bears no musical or emotional resemblance to John’s "Mother," I believe they are comparable in terms of honesty and their respective emotional power. It is one of the album's gems and a magnificent closer.
All in all, it is not a bad album, far from it. Its greatest virtue, and simultaneously its biggest issue, is the heavy dose of nostalgia in which it is wrapped. There are two or three massive songs, as is the case with almost any Paul album, and most of the others are good, though there are a few that wouldn't be particularly memorable without that nostalgic element. At times, he tries too hard, even though, at this stage, he has absolutely nothing left to prove, but he shines brightest when he manages to blend simplicity with sincerity and his undeniable genius. An 8 out of 10 might be a safe bet. What I’m not sure about is whether that 8 is a rating relative to the music currently topping the Spotify charts or relative to McCartney at his absolute peak.
On another note, I don’t know if Paul is aiming for a "checkmate". Only time will tell. Based on the comments he made to Geddy Lee, encouraging Rush to keep touring after Neil Peart’s death, which actually led to them returning to the stage with Anika Nilles on drums, I feel confident saying that our Paul will pour his heart and soul into the stage and the studio, continuing to release albums as long as his strength and voice allow. But if this really is the final album, the conclusion of a career that began in 1962, wrapping up with a return to his roots, then it will completely redefine his legacy. It will stand as one of the most devastating "checkmates" in history, rivaling the magnitude of David Bowie’s Blackstar. Only time will tell.
To wrap things up: this might not be Paul’s greatest album. But when the day comes (and it will come, sooner or later) this is the record from his entire solo catalog that we will turn to when we need to mourn him, for days, weeks, months. An eternity. For as long as it takes. That is when this album will hit us in ways we can’t even imagine. Checkmate.
By Corvan
Sep/23/2026
