One of his worst albums, and if he can’t be bothered to flesh out actual songs so they go somewhere, then I can’t be bothered to write more than a paragraph: “On the Way?” Generic blues that never ends. “Waterfalls?” Sociopathic love song that never ends; sociopathic because that isn’t what love sounds like. “Front Parlour?” Instrumental, can’t even remember how it went. “Frozen Jap?” Racist instrumental, which isn’t anything that you can’t find better on one of two Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark albums released that same year. “Bogey music” and “Darkroom?” Hideous music. The only three songs worth keeping as “Coming Up,” where he aims for Eno-related rhythmic new wave (Talking Heads; Lodger) and fairly hits the mark; “Temporary Secretary,” just a completely oddball track where McCartney’s vocals reminded me of Lou Reed on “Lady Godiva’s Operation”; “One of These Days,” where he finally stops trying to turn his bedroom into a proper studio and hunkers down with a nice melody and an acoustic guitar. I don’t know, I think this could only have been improved with “Secret Friend,” which wasn’t much better quality-wise, but was at least more interesting than a lot of the songs here.