All you need are high-priced lawyers to sort out those messy divorces and royalty payments. Not to mention Micheal Jackson owning your old band's songs.

So you've just been downsized from the most important and biggest-selling brand name in musical history. What's an upwardly mobile young popstar (I still say 30 is young!) going to do for an encore? Marry Yoko Ono? Shift a trillion units peddling silly love songs, at the loss of all artistic credibility? Become a "recovered alcoholic" and come to the realization that you really should have pursued a career as a country singer after all (heck, in Nashville you wouldn't have that pesky problem of having to write your own songs!). Endure Eric Clapton releasing an entire album about how he's got the hots for your wife? And then you get sued for ripping off "He's So Fine"! On the bright side, George, at least you didn't get shot by some lunatic.

My collection of Beatles solo albums is far from complete; somehow I'm just not that interested in spending half an hour absorbing Ringo's 1983 Canadian-only release, you know? Let's face it, 90% of the post-Beatles solo material is crap. All four of the fabs had their moments, though, mostly delivered early in their solo careers. Herein are reviews of the handful of solo albums I do happen to own.

As the sidekick to Paul and John who only got to place two or so songs per album, Harrison had built up a lot of unused material in his catalog. Most of those songs were released on his first and best solo album, a three-album monolith produced by Phil Spector. Spector's production is appropriately cavernous and gothic in fitting with the ego-driven, feverish desire on Harrison's part to make a grand, sweeping monument to prove that he was an artist of major stature. Much of the material is flat-out brilliant, music of rare majesty and power, infused with a deeply felt spirituality. "What Is Life"; "Beware Of Darkness"; the throwaway "Apple Scruffs"; a collaboration with Bob Dylan, "If Not For You"; and others of its ilk are all classic creations, and would have fit fine on any Beatles album. However, over the course of a triple album, Harrison's lack of stylistic and emotional variety becomes wearying, making the album sound monotonous. Worse, the final third is the infamous "Apple Jam", a series of instrumentals that are practically useless. The hit was "My Sweet Lord", for which Harrison was successfully sued for plagariazing the Chiffons' "He's So Fine". An intriguing album marred somewhat by its grandiose excesses.

George released a number of albums in the '70s that sold well and that nobody has any reason to care about today. It's not hard to see why the public snapped this piece of product up - out of all the ex-Beatles, Harrison's solo work goes down the easiest. However, it's also the least substantial, unless Ringo counts. Harrison offers pleasant-on-the-ears soft rock with vague self-help lyrics containing quasi-mystical overtones, and plays his attractive, relentlessly professional and accomplished guitar, except when he's foolishly being drowned out by synthesizers on the opening track (even an ex-Beatle has to keep up to date. Think this disco fad will last?). The huge gaffe here is "Here Comes The Moon" - bad in theory to write a cousin to your third or fourth best Beatles song, and even worse in practice when the song consists mainly of the title being repeated endlessly as a mantra. The hit was "Blow Away" and it's catchily melodic, but like the rest you won't remember it when it's over. The other halfway memorable tune is "Faster", about Harrison's passion for car racing, where his heart apparently lay at this point - he certainly can't get much interest out of his music.

I've had this for a couple of months but I've never bothered to sit through it more than twice. It's typical Harrison: pleasant but dull. This was his big comeback, spawning the annoying hit "Got My Mind Set On You," and the nostalgiac "When We Was Fab." I promise to give this a couple more listens and then review it.

Easily the best album by any ex-Beatle, this is a landmark release of emotional honesty and intensity. Under the tutelage of primal scream therapist Art Janov, John pours out all the pain of his damaged childhood into one long, epic howl. Produced by Phil Spector, who displays a highly unusual sense of restraint by achieving a spare, almost bone-dry sound that puts the focus squarely on John's words and voice without any distractions. John famously dismisses Dylan, Elvis, Jesus, and the Beatles in "God", as a man simply trying to get on with his life without the baggage of his past in the world's biggest pop group. He only partially succeeds, but that's only because erasing memories of the moptop days is an impossible task; what Lennon succeeds at unconditionally is presenting himself as a human being, flawed and fucked up like the rest of us. The harder numbers haven't aged well, but the biting "Working Class Hero" is as relevant today as in 1970. "Mother" tears out this wrenching sob of a scream out John's throat; "Look At Me" keeps circling in on itself and the question, "What am I supposed to do?" "Love" offers some hope, but the record ends with the chilling "My Mummy's Dead", a brief ditty set to the tune of "Three Blind Mice" and self-consciously made to sound tossed off in the basement.

John's most popular solo album, with a clearly more commercial sound and songs. The naive title track is perhaps John's most beloved tune, though for such a utopian outlook it starts off oddly - "Imagine there's no heaven". "Jealous Guy" is the other hit here, and it follows in the vulnerable, soul-baring mode of Plastic Ono Band, if slightly softened. "Gimme Some Truth" delivers some blistering political indignation, while "Oh Yoko" is delightful folk-pop. However, the attack on Paul, "How Do You Sleep?" is just plain nasty, and the overorchestrated strings on "How?" and several other tracks will put you to sleep. For every good track, there's a subpar one, but despite its inconsistencies, it's an enjoyable release.

After a five year layoff raising Sean Lennon and baking bread, John returned to action with some tunes that proved he wasn't washed up. Unfortunately, only half of these songs are John's; the other half are Yoko's, who hadn't learned at this point in time how to write and sing pop songs, which proves disastrous. Only the new-wavey club cut "Kiss Kiss" is worthwhile out of Yoko's contributions. As for John's songs, "Watching The Wheels" and "Beatiful Boy" are classic, "Dear Yoko" and "I'm Losing You" slight filler, "Woman" and "(Just Like) Starting Over" pleasantly tuneful but bland and overly commercial pop songs. It would have been good to hear an entire album of new Lennon songs (most of which ended up on the posthumous Milk And Honey, another split Lennon/Ono album); as is, it's unsatisfying.

A posthumous collection of outtakes from the Double Fantasy sessions; as with that album, half of the dozen songs are John's, and the other six are Yoko's, unfortunately. Why Lennon didn't release an entire album of his own songs during his comeback attempt is understandable given his desire for he and Yoko to be seen as an equal partnership, but still amounts to an unfortunate lapse in taste. Love makes one blind, doesn't it - or at least deaf. At least Yoko was marginally more talented than Linda. The single was "Nobody Told Me," a catchy rolling number in Lennon's psuedo-Dylan mode, and it's as good as anything off Double Fantasy. The other five don't leap out immediately, but are high quality album tracks that would have shored up Double Fantasy immensely. They're all light, Fats Domino-rolling piano based ditties, except for the poignant ballad "Grow Old With Me," that could have been a huge hit if John had time to polish it properly. It's too bad that Yoko has to demonstrate once again that she can't write songs; the only memorable melody, "Let Me Count the Ways," is just a ripoff of some old Protestant hymn (can't remember which one, most of'em all sound the same anyway). A fine companion piece to Double Fantasy; maybe someday someone will do us a favor and release all the Lennon songs on both albums on one disc. Or hey, you can do the same by recording them all on one tape - makes for a great side of C-90!

Everything you need from Lennon's solo years, with only one song overlapping with Plastic Ono Band. Basically it contains all of John's songs from Double Fantasy added on to the now-deleted 1975 singles collection Shaved Fish. I haven't heard the albums that contain "Mind Games" or "#9 Dream", but I can tell you that those are two of John's very best songs, particularly the gorgeous dreamy nonsense of the latter. The political chants masquerading as songs "Give Peace A Chance" and "Power To The People" frankly annoy me, but are forces of nature and have their uses at rallies and such. Myself, I prefer the disco "Whatever Gets You Through The Night" and the corrosive guitar stomp "Cold Turkey", a harrowing tale of heroin addiction.

Paul's solo career has proved disappointing, to say the least; only a handful of his singles can stand up to the best of his work with the Beatles, and a great deal of his solo work is simply drivel. On his first solo album, Paul plays all the instruments in a one-man display of skill and craftsmanship. It's all very pleasant, but frustatingly insubstantial. The homemade instrumentals aren't anything I actively want to pay attention to, but are okay in the background, while the pop songs are fragmentary and seemingly dashed off at the last minute. There is one big production number veers off from the demo-like approach of the rest of the material, "Maybe I'm Amazed". "Every Night" is another strong pop song, and "Teddy Boy" and a couple of others have their pleasures. It's okay, but on the whole the album sounds half-finished. Still, half of New Zealand seems intent on recreating the vibe of this record.

If there's a proto-typical McCartney album, his second album is it: charming tunefullness and neato studio tricks slavered over frustratingly lightweight piffles, exemplified by the single "Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey". McCartney achieves the aural equivalent of Alice In Wonderland: entertaining meaningless nonsense, but nonsense nonetheless. He even sabatoges the album's strongest melody, "Long Haired Lady" with annoying voice-overs courtesy Linda McCartney. He's come a long way down from the Beatles, but even then there were warning signs ("Maxwell's Silver Hammer") - except now he doesn't have John to nudge him competitively into creating "Hey Jude" to go along with the bouncy little jingles he's a natural at. C'mon, the lyrics he wrote with the Beatles weren't that much more meaningful than the ones he pens here about his three-legged dog that can still run and asking his wife to come on and eat at home. Musically he's still running strong, as evidenced most strongly by "Uncle Albert" and the rocker "Smile On"; solo McCartney has no great ambitions, and if you come in with those lowered expectations, then some his work is quite delightfully silly, disposable pop. It's just that the Beatles were more than silly, disposable pop (most of the time). If anyone else had released this album, it would have recieved a very warm reception, but expectations were much higher for an ex-Beatle. My grade reflects what I would have given had anyone else released this; dock a half star if you're going to compare it to the Beatles.

By most all accounts I've heard or read, his best solo album. Recorded in Nigeria, whose influence only shows up on the Afro-soul intro of "Mamunia," Paul acts like typical lightweight Paul, only this time out more consistently that usual. The first three songs are the peaks: the title track, perhaps solo McCartney's finest single; "Jet," a heavy synth-pounder that proves to naysayers that yes, the cute Beatle can rock (as if "Helter Skelter" had left any doubt); and "Bluebird," which I don't like as much as "Blackbird," because I heard "Blackbird," first (they're practically the same song). It's all solid (except for the generic rocker, "Helen Wheels," which a lot of folks like but not I - recycled Chuck Berry melodies are not McCartney's reason for existence), if not up to the level of his Beatles work. I dig the audio collage at the end of the song about Picasso (tuneful pop whimsy is McCartney's reason for existence), and the rollicking piano rocker, "1985," ends the album on a high note (actually, the album ends with a snatch of "Band On the Run"). Nothing groundbreaking or revelatory, just very high quality entertainment.

What was he thinking? One of the worst things to ever happen to Paul (and the rest of the world) was the breakup of the Beatles. He missed the comradeship and competition of a real working band, and tried his best to create a facsmile of the Beatles. As expected, Wings were hardly the Beatles, and McCartney's sincere attempt to make the band a democracy, with each member sharing the songwriting equally, was a failure. That said, some of it's not bad, even if the two catchiest highlights are unsurprisingly McCartney's: the sprightly single, "Let'Em In," and the melodically winning but conceptually irritating "Silly Love Songs." The other members of Wings are competent enough to put together a handful of decent, thoroughly professional but unremarkable examples of mid-'70s pop songcraft, particularly "Must Do Something About It," and "Wino Junko." However, the pleasant moments are undermined by some pure drivel: all of the rest of McCartney's tunes are tripe, though the real nadir is Linda McCartney's "Cook of the House." And don't let the title fool you: the only song with any real speedy energy is the psuedo-metal "Beware My Love"; overall the vibe is very mellow, with every song blandly midtempo and soft.

You know, if I keep buying all these cheap copies of boring Macca solo albums, I'm going to have to set up an entire page just for him. This one's typical of '70s McCartney - not a particular low nor high, lots of filler, a few worthwhile tunes, immaculately crafted and tuneful yet so lightweight you wonder why you bothered. It's noticably better than Speed of Sound because Paul is writing all the tunes. The hit single was "With A Little Luck," Paul at his dippy cutesyiest, but there are several other stronger tracks. "Cafe On the Left Bank" even has coherent and somewhat (I said somewhat, and this is relative to the rest of Paul's career) interesting lyrics. And there's only one truly horrible track, the album closer "Morse Moose and the Grey Moose," a grating generically new wavish number (add the worst elements of punk and disco) that goes on forever at six minutes. "Famous Groupies," is the weird little ditty most everybody remembers that makes this album notable, and I like the melodic strength of "I'm Carrying" and "Backwards Traveller" (which unfortunately bogs down into a dull instrumental, "Cufflinks"). I don't much care for the faux Gene Vincent of "Name and Address," and "Girlfriend," pretty much defines catchily silly fluff. But that describes most of Paul's solo career, doesn't it?

McCartney's first album recorded after Lennon's death, it contains two explicit tributes to him, the title track and "Here Today". It also contains a duet with Stevie Wonder, "Ebony And Ivory", that some people find icky but I don't have any real problem with, and another with Carl Perkins, "Get It". The single "Take It Away" is exciting, rolling pop and one of Paul's best solo songs. However, while this album on the whole is well-crafted, professional, and lacks any truly cringe-worthy moments, there's not a whole lot to get excited about; it's basically yuppie music. If you're a fan of Paul, this is one of his better efforts, but the rest of us can do without it with no harm done.

That's right, one freakin' star, wanna make somethin' of it? The soundtrack to a movie I've never seen and never intend on seeing (the plot supposedly revolves around Paul searching for his missing tapes), there are two new songs: the pleasant, if slick and Hall & Oates-style ballad "No More Lonely Nights", and "Not Such A Bad Boy" which isn't memorable at all. The rest consists of remakes of Beatles and solo McCartney hits, some huge ("Yesterday"), some not ("Ballroom Dancing"?!). Needless to say, the remakes aren't as good as the originals, and McCartney only pours salt in the wound by reprising the sole good original not once but twice (and closes the album with a horrid disco version). "Silly Love Songs" shows up twice, too, perhaps as a middle finger to fans - who said Paul was the "sweet" one? Would John have spit on the memory of the Beatles like Paul does here? So what you end up with is one decent single padded out with completely redundant older songs better heard elsewhere. In other words, only McCartney completists have any possible use for this piece of product.

This isn't an unlistenable album, it's just that there's no reason to listen to it. Even at his worst, McCartney possesses the amazing technical facility to craft music that goes down easy and is kind of okay if your ears aren't paying attention. The problem is, after pressing to play all the way through, you won't remember what you've just heard. I dare you to play this once or thrice, go to bed, and then try singing any of these tunes the next morning. The low point is "Angry" - John Lennon he's not, and he looks foolhardy trying to be. Soft, blurry, sturdy little melodies that meander out of focus, this is Macca's menopausal muzak.

Not quite. Any album that contains the likes of "My Love" and "Silly Love Songs" has some serious problems in the listenability department, and unfortunately this captures McCartney at his drippiest and shallowest. Yes, "Band On The Run", "Jet", "Live and Let Die" and a few others are classics, but for every pleasurable tune there's one that makes me want to cringe. You're better off purchasing Wings' Greatest Hits. So sad how the mighty have fallen!

You too can easily purchase a cheap cassette copy for a dollar, just I like I did. Still not sure if my money was well spent...must give another listen.

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