When Paul McCartney released “Here Today” on his 1982 album Tug of War, the world was still grieving the loss of John Lennon, who had been murdered less than two years earlier. For Paul, the grief was not just public — it was personal, intimate, tangled with decades of brotherhood, conflict, brilliance, and unspoken love. “Here Today” is his attempt to speak the words he never got to say while John was alive. In less than three minutes, he crafts one of the most heartbreaking and sincere tributes in modern music.
The song begins quietly, with a delicate string arrangement woven through gentle acoustic guitar. The simplicity is intentional. There’s no grand production, no elaborate studio layering — just a man, his memories, and the silence where a voice used to be. McCartney sings in a tender, slightly trembling tone, almost whispering the first line:
“And if I say I really knew you well, what would your answer be?”
It’s not rhetorical. It’s a real question — one Paul never got to ask.
Throughout the verses, McCartney frames the lyric as a conversation with John: tender, direct, remorseful, loving. He speaks not as a Beatle, not as an icon, but as Paul — the boy who met John on a summer day in 1957, the man who built a life’s work beside him, the friend who lost him too soon.
What makes “Here Today” so powerful is its emotional honesty. Paul admits regret. He acknowledges misunderstandings. He even recalls moments of laughter — the silliness and chaos that shaped their youth. And then, with a kind of aching bravery, he says the words he never said enough in real life:
💬 “I love you.”
In the song, it comes almost suddenly — vulnerable, unguarded, real. And Paul sings it without flourish, without dramatic tension. Just truth.
The string arrangement, courtesy of producer George Martin, lifts the melody with a quiet dignity. It never overshadows the lyric. Instead, it moves like breathing — rising and falling with Paul’s memories.
Musically, “Here Today” is reminiscent of earlier McCartney ballads like “Blackbird” or “Mother Nature’s Son”: acoustic, intimate, deceptively simple. But emotionally, it stands apart. There is no metaphor, no disguising imagery. It is a letter. A confession. A goodbye.
As the song progresses, McCartney speaks of the duality of their bond — the fiery arguments, the creative tension, the affection that lived beneath it all. He reminds the listener that even in conflict, there was love. That their partnership, with all its joys and complexities, was irreplaceable.
When Paul performs “Here Today” live, it becomes something even deeper. He often stands alone on stage, bathed in soft light, holding the same acoustic guitar he played during their early days. Each time, he says to the audience: “This is a song I wrote for John.” His voice sometimes breaks, even after decades. The grief has softened, but it hasn’t vanished. Great love never really lets go.
What makes “Here Today” endure is not just that it mourns John Lennon — it honors him. It honors the friendship that shaped modern music. It honors the fragile, flawed, beautiful bond between two boys who changed the world together.
At its heart, “Here Today” is a reminder that love, especially the kind forged in youth and tested by time, doesn’t end with death. It lingers in the spaces between words. It lives in memory. It sings in the silence.
Because Paul McCartney’s greatest truth is this: John may be gone,
but in every note of “Here Today”,
he is still here.