The defining characteristic of Wings; overwhelming cuteness. Which would be Paul McCartney’s natural element, I suppose. He always got labeled ‘the cute one’ and he did little to combat that assessment. Then, in the seventies, he settled into a life of familial bliss that was the antithesis of every rock’n’roll trope out there. For that he became the butt of mean jokes. A strong faction of critics and fans dismissed him as a mawkish sentiment-meister who just wanted to rub his cheesy happiness in everyone’s faces. But what a stone hearted cynic would you have to be to hold it against him? All those homemade tour videos show a cuteness so unforced and so real that it’s impossible not to get the warm fuzzies. Paul and Linda always seemed to be having so much fun together, with their pile of children and animals, and their nature hikes and horseback rides and poolside picnics. Some people envy ‘real’ rock stars of the sort who stagger about in a narcotic haze surrounded by hangers-on whose names don’t even know, and yes, death-wish glamour is very appealing. But, in all honesty, most of us don’t really want to live like that. We just a want a home in the heart of the country. We want a horse, we want a sheep. We want all the corny Paul McCartney things. Things that aren’t very cool, but which make us happy. And I truly think that McCartney is the smartest of all his peers, because he figured that out years before everyone else did. He knew right away that he would not be a happy, healthy person if his life revolved around drugs, groupies and trashed hotel rooms. A truth everyone else did eventually cottoned on to, although usually not until after a series of overdoses, arrests, scandals, divorces, and other life tragedies.