Paul McCartney, always a class act, rocks on

There is royalty, and then there is rock royalty.

When Queen Elizabeth II celebrated her golden jubilee in June with a "Party at the Palace" concert in her back yard, the performers — including Eric Clapton, Rod Stewart, Joe Cocker, Phil Collins, Cliff Richard and Ozzy Osbourne — seemed to defer to Paul McCartney, especially during the finale of "Hey Jude," with the full cast and orchestra.

When the queen arrived onstage, even she hovered near Sir Paul, as if basking in his glow.

The following week, McCartney married Heather Mills at a ceremony in an Irish castle, which was covered by the world media almost as if it were a royal wedding.

Elvis Presley will always be the King of Rock and Aretha Franklin will always be the Queen of Soul. (That fella who annointed himself King of Pop has proved to be a pretender to the throne.)

But McCartney has reached a new level. He has ascended, at age 60, into a position akin to that of a great statesman, an eminence of rock 'n' roll, if you will.

Of course, it has a lot to do with the fact that he's one of two surviving Beatles, but it also has to do with his engaging personality, almost spotless reputation and the graying of rock 'n' roll.

McCartney seemed to always court popularity, at times to his detriment. He smiled too much and mugged too much in the early Beatles days, causing him to appear smug at times. He's written some slim and treacly songs in the past (including one embarrassment with that King of Pop guy), but they quickly faded, their memory smothered by all the great pop songs he's composed.

He's never done anything stupid or self-destructive in public. He's a family man whose kids are unspoiled and productive — amazing considering his immense wealth and celebrity.

Fans may not have liked Linda McCartney as a member of Wings, but their love was storybook. His standing by her as she was dying of cancer was evidence of a great romance.

But the key to his exalted position in pop mostly has to do with the fact that rock has become respectable in its old age.

Those of us who were around when it all started would never have guessed that it would grow and mature along with us.

We are now realizing that rock artists have every right to continue their craft as they grow old, just as, say, jazz or classical musicians can. That truth is underscored by all the great veteran acts coming through town, including Bob Dylan, the Rolling Stones and Aerosmith.

He doesn't have to work at being adored anymore, thankfully, and his light, easygoing personality is much easier to take.

Other than that surreal pot bust in Japan in 1980 — for which he served nine days in jail, as if he were some kind of criminal — his personal record is spotless.

McCartney represents that longevity. He stands for all that has come before, because of the Beatles, his distinguished career with Wings and as a solo artist. We honor him as a survivor, and as a symbol of rock's survival.

Another sign of his exalted status: People take his paintings and classical-music pieces seriously, even though they're unremarkable. He's allowed to indulge himself and is congratulated for the effort. That's because, no matter what he does, he's a class act.

McCartney seems to be celebrating his legacy on his current tour, the second leg of an international jaunt that began in the spring. Although he doesn't like the designation, it's been dubbed a "greatest hits tour."

His shows have been lasting from 2-1/2 to three hours, and he's been doing up to 23 Beatles classics, as well as Wings' most popular songs (he's performed only a few cuts from his new album, "Driving Rain"). The show has state-of-the-art sound, lights and video, and has gotten rave notices at every stop.

Patrick MacDonald: 206-464-2312 or pmacdonald@seattletimes.com.