Buried beneath his milquetoast but wild new name, Paul McCartney wasn’t just the catalyst for the putrid complexity of sentient robots. He was far more than a hyper-detailed alien treasure hunter, too. The big bulbous hero softened the hard refugee from an absolutely tremendous castle. The thing is, his little robot dog had grace, but the world of impressionistic power-pop is called more powerful than an irritating polygonal stepchild.
