There’s not often much commonality between rock stars – ultimately, there’s too much drama, too much ego, too much at stake. Out of everyone, David Bowie and Paul McCartney knew that better than most.
You learn very quickly that in the business, you can only truly forge a path if you stick to your own guns and attempt never to let your mask slip in exposing yourself as a fan of others. But the power of some stars is just too much, that on certain occasions they would leave these two bona fide rock gods also quivering in their wake the same as any maniac fan.
Of course, you can respect a musician in many areas of their work, but in Bowie and McCartney’s case, it was the songwriting that ruled supreme in reducing them from sonic contemporaries into a pair of gushing admirers. But don’t be mistaken – these were not untouchable figures they fawned over from afar. Indeed, especially in the latter’s case, it was the ones most close to home.
Macca has never made any secret that despite their feuds and tensions, he was ultimately the number one fan of his sonic second half, John Lennon. Yet even as their relationship strained and went through its roughest patches, there’s no denying that the Beatle had the most intimate view of his bandmate’s processes than anyone, which led him to have a – sometimes begrudging – lifelong respect for Lennon.
“When we worked together on something, often what would happen is that whoever would be the creator of this song would bring in the first verse, and then we’d sit down, and we’d take it from there,” he later revealed. “Little things he did were brilliant.”
As an outsider, this dynamic was not lost on Bowie either, as he later commented after Lennon’s death: “John had incredible charisma that made you cut through things. I can see the effect that he must have had on McCartney. I would imagine McCartney sorely misses that now.” However, the Starman was not just the admirer, but also the recipient of the master songwriter’s searing approach.
They worked together on his defining hit ‘Fame’, during which his forthright tack clearly rubbed off on Bowie, as he said: “I’ll never forget something John Lennon told me; we were talking about writing, and I had always admired the way he used to cut through so much of the bullshit, just come straight to the point with what he wanted to say.”
On the other end of the spectrum, someone who is far less sparing with their words is Bob Dylan. But nevertheless, maybe in a converse way to Lennon, he too very much caught the admiration of Bowie and McCartney, particularly as the former felt he could align with his musical style. Feeling that they were both better suited to concepts and albums rather than individual hit songs, Bowie once mused: “The Beatles or The Rolling Stones or Springsteen have hits, I sort of have well-known songs. So I’ll align myself with Dylan on that one: he’s the same, he doesn’t sell records either, but he’s really well known.”
That assertion came in spite of the fact that Bowie was more than self-aware that Dylan “hates me”, but at least McCartney was viewed in a more favourable light. Rising to prominence in that same heady 1960s era, the reciprocal effect that the pair’s influence has had on each other is well-documented, but rather than their similarities, Macca based his respect on their differences.
“I always like what he does,” he confessed. “Sometimes I wish I was a bit more like Bob. He’s legendary … and doesn’t give a shit! But I’m not like that.”
Yet regardless of what brought them together or tore them apart, it’s evident that among the elite group consisting of McCartney, Bowie, Lennon, and Dylan, there’s a songwriting firestorm which forever changed the course of rock history. The dynamics of that quartet are another matter, because if they were to form their own ramshackle band, it’s clear that the power imbalance may have caused its fair share of problems.
