The really strange thing was that I went to work that morning somehow knowing Paul would ultimately show up — despite what had happened. Of course, from the point of view of his Liverpool upbringing, the best way to deal with something like that is to keep right on doing what you’d normally do. It helps to take your mind off it — being with friends, I suppose, even though it did occur to me that he might have just as easily rung up and cancelled the session. I remember the first thing he said to me was, “I just don’t know what to think.” He was obviously physically shaken, and even at the best of times wasn’t really too articulate when it came to expressing how he felt about things.
After one of the takes Paul and I were just hanging out, leaning up against AIR [Studio]’s huge floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Oxford Circus, when I happened to notice this dark green truck going by that said LENNON FURNISHINGS or something like that. “Oh God, look at that,” I said, and he just sort of broke down, you know? “I’ll tell you one thing, man,” he said, “I’ll never fall out with anyone again in my life for that amount of time and face the possibility of them dying before I get a chance to square it with them.”
After that I never consciously mentioned anything about it. If he wanted to talk about it he did, and if he didn’t, well, he didn’t. Everybody in the world was very hurt by John’s death, but especially Paul McCartney.
— Denny Laine, interview w/ Geoffrey Giuliano, c/o Geoffrey Giuliano, Blackbird: The Life and Times of Paul McCartney. (1991)