Paul McCartney

When Paul McCartney toured America last spring, many observers drew parallels with the Beatles' arrival in the US four decades previously.

In 1964, the Beatles were credited with raising the nation's spirits in the wake of the Kennedy assassination. McCartney's Driving Rain Tour was supposed to perform a similar function in the wake of September 11. A tall order, but his shows were rapturously received.

A year later, and world events have caught up with McCartney again - he finds himself launching his European tour in the middle of a war. His gung-ho post-9/11 song Freedom is noticeably absent from the set, and McCartney makes no reference on stage to the war in Iraq. It's in keeping with his equivocal public image. Always happy to leave the politicking to his former songwriting partner, his solitary excursion into current affairs was 1972's Give Ireland Back to the Irish, which despite its feisty title may well be the most mild-mannered protest song in history.

The French audience, however, are more resolute. After he dedicates Here Today to the memory of John Lennon, the Paris crowd erupt in a spontaneous and moving chorus of Give Peace a Chance.

But if the world needs cheering up by a studiously non-partisan sunbeam, it's difficult to think of a better candidate than the ex-Beatle so perennially chirpy that teen magazine Smash Hits christened him "Fab Macca wacky thumbs-aloft".

He is fantastically good at his role, piling on the Beatles' songs at the expense of new material, and throwing in a handful of 70s rarities for die-hard Wings fans: a sub-section of society which must surely exist, even if you've never met one. His young band tackle Back in the USSR and Wings' Jet with impressive ferocity. McCartney's solo section, featuring a lovely version of Blackbird and an unexpected take on Abbey Road's You Never Give Me Your Money, is almost absurdly poignant.

For once in his career, McCartney's own image could do with a facelift. Whatever the logic behind his recent attempt to have some Beatles' song credits reversed to McCartney/Lennon, it played badly with a public who view his late collaborator as a sort of guitar-slinging equivalent of Mother Teresa.

· At Hallam Arena, Sheffield (0114 256 5656), on April 5 and 6, then touring