When Lennon Praised McCartney: The Surprising Songs John Loved Most
While The Beatles are celebrated for the groundbreaking synergy of John Lennon and Paul McCartney — arguably the most influential songwriting duo in history — the truth is, they often wrote separately, especially as tensions in the band grew. Their creative partnership, forged in friendship and fame, was also a study in contrast: Lennon’s raw introspection and cynicism balanced by McCartney’s melodic optimism.
Reflecting on their musical yin and yang, Lennon once told Playboy in 1980:
“[Paul] provided a lightness, an optimism, while I would always go for the sadness, the discords, the bluesy notes.”
For a long time, Lennon believed he wasn’t the melody man. “Paul wrote the sweet stuff,” he admitted. “I just wrote straight, shouting rock ‘n’ roll.” That polarity defined their output — and sometimes, their opinions of each other’s solo contributions.
As famously sharp-tongued as Lennon could be (especially in the aftermath of the band’s breakup in 1970), he wasn’t stingy with praise when it was truly earned. Despite the bruises left behind from The Beatles’ implosion, Lennon candidly named three McCartney-penned tracks that he considered among Paul’s finest — surprising choices, each tied to personal memories, emotional insight, and unspoken goodbyes.
“Hey Jude”: A Song for Julian, Heard as a Song for John
Perhaps the most iconic of McCartney’s Beatles-era ballads, Hey Jude was written in 1968 as a gesture of comfort for Lennon’s young son, Julian. At the time, John had left his first wife, Cynthia, for Yoko Ono, and McCartney wanted to offer some solace to the boy caught in the middle.
For all the emotional chaos surrounding The Beatles at that time, Lennon saw the beauty in the gesture. In a 1972 interview with Hit Parader, he called it simply:
“That’s his best song.”
But Lennon, ever the emotional sleuth, suspected something deeper beneath the lyrics. In a later interview with Playboy, he confessed:
“I always heard it as a song to me… ‘Hey, John.’ Subconsciously, he was saying, ‘Go ahead, leave me.’”
In that single track, Lennon heard both a blessing and a goodbye — McCartney’s way of giving him permission to follow love, even if it meant leaving behind their partnership.
“Got to Get You into My Life”: Paul at His Psychedelic Best
Jumping back to Revolver in 1966, Lennon spotlighted another of McCartney’s masterstrokes: Got to Get You into My Life. With its horn-heavy, soul-inspired vibe, the song was often mistaken for a straightforward love song. In reality, it was McCartney’s coded tribute to marijuana — an experience that had recently transformed his worldview.
Lennon, with characteristic brevity and clarity, told Playboy:
“That was one of his best songs, too.”
It was a rare moment of simple praise. No caveats, no backhanded compliments — just genuine recognition of a song that pulsed with creative energy.
“Why Don’t We Do It in the Road?”: A Quiet Admiration, A Lingering Hurt
Then there’s Why Don’t We Do It in the Road? — the brief, bluesy blast from The White Album that shocked fans with its raw simplicity and provocative lyric. Surprisingly, in a 1972 interview, Lennon listed it as one of Paul’s standout moments:
“Paul — one of his best.”
But by 1980, his feelings had evolved — or perhaps unraveled. The memory of being left out of the recording session still stung.
“That’s Paul. He even recorded it by himself in another room… We came in and he’d made the whole record. Him drumming. Him playing the piano. Him singing.”
What hurt Lennon wasn’t the song itself — he liked it. What stung was the solitude. The symbol of how fragmented their brotherhood had become.
“I enjoyed the track. Still, I can’t speak for George, but I was always hurt when Paul would knock something off without involving us.”
From Rivalry to Reverence
These moments of admiration — laced with love, nostalgia, and pain — reveal the depth of Lennon’s connection to McCartney, even as their relationship strained under the weight of fame, ego, and change.
In the end, Lennon wasn’t just critiquing songs. He was revealing how intertwined their creative lives had become. Each melody Paul wrote, especially the ones that stood out, carried echoes of their bond — sometimes as a salute, sometimes as a silent farewell.
Because beneath the public jabs and private frustrations, Lennon still saw Paul not just as a bandmate or competitor — but as someone who knew him better than most.
And in those rare, honest admissions, we see not rivalry, but reverence.
