There are three people in Paul McCartney’s studio today. Paul McCartney, 82 years old. Taylor Swift, 34 years old, and a ghost. The ghost is John Lennon. He’s been haunting this particular song for 56 years. The song is called Now and Then. Paul and John started writing it together in 1968. They recorded a demo, Paul’s Versus.

Beautiful classic McCartney. Then John said, “I’ve got the bridge. Listen to this melody.” And before he could play it, the tape ran out or someone interrupted or they got distracted. We’ll finish it tomorrow. But tomorrow never came. The Beatles broke up. John and Paul’s friendship shattered. They didn’t speak for nearly a decade.

 When they finally reconciled in 1980, they talked about finishing old songs, getting back in the studio, creating new music together. But Jon was murdered before they could now and then remained unfinished. For 44 years, this song has haunted Paul. He’s tried to complete it multiple times, but he can’t remember Jon’s melody.

 And without J’s melody, it’s not their song. It’s just an unfinished fragment. A ghost of what could have been. Paul has learned to live with ghosts. John’s ghost, the Beatles ghost, the ghost of his younger self who thought there would always be more time. But this particular ghost, the ghost of now and then, is the one that haunts him most.

 Because it’s not just an unfinished song. It’s an unfinished conversation with Jon. And now Jon is gone. and the conversation will never be completed except today, November 12th, 2024. Taylor Swift is sitting in Paul’s studio. They’re talking about songwriting, about collaboration, about the Beatles. Paul tells her about now and then.

 It’s the one song I wish I could finish, Paul says. But I can’t because John’s part is missing and I can’t remember it and I can’t channel it and I can’t fake it. Can I hear the demo? Taylor asks. Paul plays it. They listen to two young men from 1968. Creating something beautiful, planning to finish it later. Later never came.

When the tape ends, Taylor sits in silence for a long time. Then she says, “John is still in this song.” What do you mean? I mean, his melody is there, hidden in the spaces, in the chord progressions. In the way your verses resolve, he left clues, and I can hear them. Paul’s voice shakes. You can hear John.

 I can hear what John would have done. I’ve studied his melodic patterns for my entire life. I know how his brain worked musically. And I can hear his ghost in this song. She picks up a guitar. Let me show you. And Taylor Swift plays John Lennin’s melody, the melody that’s been haunting Paul McCartney for 56 years. And for the first time since 1980, Paul hears his best friend’s music again.

 The ghost in the studio finally speaks. And together, Paul and Taylor are going to finish the conversation that ended in 1968. Let’s go back to the beginning. To understand how we got here, you need to understand what now and then was supposed to be. The Beatles are still together, but barely. Tensions are high. Jon and Paul are fighting.

 George is frustrated. Ringo feels left out. They’re recording the White Album. It’s chaotic. Everyone is writing separately, bringing in finished songs rather than collaborating. But one afternoon in October 1968, Jon and Paul find themselves alone in the studio. Just the two of them. Like old times. Want to write something? Paul asks.

 Like we used to, John says. Like we used to. They sit at the piano. Paul starts playing a chord progression. Simple, melancholic, beautiful. John closes his eyes, listening. That’s lovely, Paul. Very you. What do you mean very me? Romantic, hopeful. You always hear the light in things. Paul smiles.

 And you always hear the darkness. Someone has to. They start building the song together. Paul’s chord progression. John adding harmonies back and forth the way they used to write. Paul sings, I know it’s true. It’s all because of you. Jon nods. That’s the verse. Now you need a pre chorus. Something that builds tension. They work on it for hours.

 The way they haven’t worked together in years. By the end of the session, they have Paul’s verses. Complete recorded on a demo tape. Now we need the bridge. John says something that takes it to a different place emotionally. What are you thinking? I’m not sure yet. Let me sit with it. I’ve got a melody idea. Something darker.

 Something that contrasts with your verses. They plan to meet the next day to finish it. But the next day, something comes up. George needs them for another song. Then Ringo has a problem with a drum part. Then there’s a meeting with the label. Days turn into weeks. Weeks turn into months. We should finish that song, Paul says occasionally. The one from October.

What did we call it? Now and then, John says, we’ll finish it. Don’t worry. But they never do. By 1970, the Beatles have broken up. John and Paul aren’t speaking. The song is forgotten. for 10 years now and then sits in a drawer. An unfinished demo, a fragment of what could have been.

 Then in 1980, something miraculous happens. John and Paul reconcile. They’re not best friends again. Too much has happened, but they’re talking. They’re friendly. They meet for lunch in New York. John’s living in the Dakota. Paul is visiting the city. Remember when we used to write together? Paul asks. every day. John says, “Those were good times.

 We should do it again.” “Yeah, yeah, we’ve both grown. We’re different writers now. It could be interesting.” John smiles. I’d like that. They start making plans. Paul will come to New York in January 1981. They’ll spend a week in the studio. See what happens. And we should finish some old songs, Paul says.

 Do you remember now and then from 68? John thinks vaguely refresh my memory. I wrote the verses. You were going to write the bridge, but we never finished it. I don’t remember the bridge. Neither do I. That’s the problem. You said you had a melody. You were about to play it on the demo, but the tape cut off. Let’s find the tape when you come in January.

 We’ll figure it out. They shake hands. January 1981. They’ll finish what they started 13 years earlier, but January never comes. December 8th, 1980. John Lennon is shot and killed outside the Dakota. Paul is devastated, not just by John’s death, but by the loss of what they were about to do. They were about to write together again.

 They were about to finish now and then, and now they never will. Paul finds the demo tape a few weeks after J’s funeral. He listens to it alone in his studio, his 26-year-old voice. John’s 28-year-old voice working on something beautiful. Then John, I’ve got the bridge. Listen to this melody. And silence. Paul rewinds, plays it again, hoping that somehow this time J’s melody will be there, but it’s not.

 Paul tries to remember, closes his eyes, tries to hear J’s voice from 12 years ago, tries to remember what melody Jon was about to play, but he can’t. The memory is gone. Lost to time, lost to drugs, lost to the chaos of the Beatles. final years. Jon’s melody died with him. Paul puts the tape away.

 Too painful to listen to, a reminder of everything he lost. For the next 44 years, Paul lives with this unfinished song. He takes it out occasionally. 1995. He’s working on Beatles archival projects. He listens to now and then again. Thinks about finishing it. But how? Jon’s part is missing and Paul can’t fake J’s musical voice.

 He could write his own bridge, but that would erase Jon. That would turn it into a Paul McCartney song instead of a Beatles song. So, he puts it away again. Paul is 61 years old. He’s been performing for 50 years. He’s written over 500 songs, but now and then still haunts him. He tries again to finish it, sits at the piano, plays Paul’s verses, tries to imagine what Jon would have done for the bridge, but he can’t get inside J’s head anymore.

Too many years have passed. Too much has changed. He’s not 26 anymore, and Jon isn’t 28, and they’re not in a studio together creating magic. Jon is dead, and some songs are meant to stay unfinished. Paul is 77. He’s recording new music, collaborating with modern producers, using AI technology. Someone suggests, “What about now and then? Could we use AI to recreate J’s voice to imagine what he might have done?” Paul is horrified.

Absolutely not. I’m not using a computer to fake J’s voice. That’s obscene. But you could finally finish the song. Not like that. If I can’t finish it with John, I won’t finish it at all. He puts the tape away. For the last time, he thinks some ghosts are meant to haunt you. Now, November 2024, Paul is 82 years old.

 He gets a call from Taylor Swift’s team. Taylor is in London recording. She’d love to meet Paul. talk about songwriting. Learn from the master. Paul agrees. He’s met Taylor before at award shows, industry events. She’s talented, respectful, a real student of music. She arrives at his studio in Sussex on a Tuesday afternoon.

It’s informal, just the two of them. No cameras, no press. They sit in Paul’s home studio, the same studio where he recorded Band on the Run, Ram, dozens of other classics. Thank you for having me, Taylor says. I can’t tell you what this means. You’re welcome. So, what do you want to talk about collaboration? You and John, how did you write together? Paul smiles.

 This is his favorite subject. We wrote eyeball to eyeball sitting across from each other. One person would start something, the other would finish it or challenge it or take it somewhere unexpected. Did you ever disagree? All the time. That’s what made it good. I’d want to go one direction. John would want to go another. We’d fight.

 Then we’d find something better than either of us imagined. Do you miss it? Paul’s smile fades. Every day writing alone is fine, but writing with John, that was magic. Do you have any songs you never finish together? Paul looks at her for a long moment. He usually doesn’t talk about this, but something about Taylor makes him want to share.

 There’s one, he says quietly. From 1968. We started it together. Recorded a demo, but we never finished it. What happened? Life. The Beatles falling apart. Then John and I not speaking. By the time we reconciled, I’d forgotten the melody. And three weeks later, John was dead. Taylor sits forward. What was the song called Now and Then? John was supposed to write the bridge.

 He said he had a melody, but we never recorded it. And now I can’t remember it. Have you tried to finish it? 44 years. But I can’t because without John’s melody, it’s not our song. It’s just mine and that feels wrong. Can I hear the demo? Paul hesitates. He’s only played this tape for a handful of people.

 Linda, his children, George Martin, but something tells him to share it with Taylor. He goes to his archive, pulls out an old realtore tape, 1968. Scrolled on the label in John’s handwriting. Now and then unfinished, he threads it onto an old tape player, presses play. The room fills with sound. Paul’s voice. Young, 26 years old. Okay, here’s what I’m thinking.

 Piano, a beautiful chord progression. Classic McCartney. Romantic, hopeful. Paul singing. I know it’s true. It’s all because of you. Then John’s voice. 28 years old. That’s lovely, Paul. Really lovely. Now we need the bridge. I’ve got a melody. Something darker. A contrast. Listen to this. And then silence. The tape ends. Taylor sits frozen.

 She just heard Paul McCartney and John Lennin from 1968. creating a Beatles song the world has never heard. “That’s it,” Paul says, his voice. “That’s where it ends.” John was about to play his melody, but we never recorded it. And you’ve tried to finish it. I’ve tried everything. I’ve sat at the piano for hours. I’ve meditated.

 I’ve taken mushrooms hoping it would unlock the memory. But it’s gone. John’s melody died with him. Taylor closes her eyes. She’s thinking about something. Paul, can you play the tape again? Why? Just play it again, please. Paul rewinds, plays it again. Taylor listens with her eyes closed, not moving, barely breathing.

When it ends, she says, “Again.” Paul plays it three more times. Taylor is still silent, eyes closed, absorbing every note, every chord, every space. Finally, she opens her eyes. John is still in this song. Paul looks at her. What do you mean? I mean, his melody is there, hidden in the spaces, in the way your verse resolves, in the chord progression.

 John left clues and I can hear them. Paul’s voice shakes. How could you possibly? Because I’ve studied every song you and John ever wrote together. I’ve analyzed the patterns. The way John thought melodically, the way he answered your phrases, the way he used harmonic tension and release. I’ve spent my entire life studying how John Lennin’s brain worked musically.

 She stands up, picks up a guitar from the corner of the studio. Let me show you. She starts playing a melody, simple, melancholic, with a hint of darkness that contrasts beautifully with Paul’s hopeful verse. Paul’s breath catches. Where did you? How did you? This is what John would have done. I can hear it. the way the verse ends on that chord.

 John would have started the bridge a half step up, creating tension and then he would have resolved it down like this. She continues playing and Paul McCartney, 82 years old, starts crying because that melody, the one Taylor Swift is playing, sounds exactly like something John Lennon would have written. Not could have, would have.

She’s not guessing. She’s channeling. How are you doing this? Paul whispers. Because I’m not trying to write what I would write. I’m trying to write what John would write. I’m getting out of my own head and getting into his. And he’s here. He’s in this song. He left clues. She keeps playing, developing the melody, adding harmonies.

 He would have made it minor here to contrast with your major verse. And then he would have brought it back to major for the resolution like this. Paul is sobbing now. Full heaving sobs because he’s hearing his best friend’s music for the first time in 44 years. The music he thought died in 1980. The music he thought he’d never hear again.

John is in the room with us, Paul says through his tears. I can feel him. He is, Taylor says. He’s been in this song the whole time. We just needed to listen. They sit in silence for a moment. The ghost that’s been haunting this studio for 56 years has finally spoken. “Will you help me finish it?” Paul asks.

 “Will you help me complete this conversation with John?” “It would be the greatest honor of my life.” Over the next 3 days, Paul and Taylor work on now and then. It’s unlike anything Taylor has ever experienced. She’s not writing, she’s channeling, listening to a ghost. Paul plays his verses. Taylor plays what she hears as Jon’s bridge.

They refine it, adjust it, make sure every note feels like something Jon would have done. Would John have used this chord here? Taylor asks at one point. Paul closes his eyes thinking, remembering, yes, definitely. John loved that chord. He used it in a day in the life and across the universe. then that’s what we’ll use.

 They record it in Paul’s studio, just piano and vocals, like the original demo from 1968. Paul sings his verses, then Taylor sings the bridge in her own voice, but with Jon’s melody. When they finish recording, Paul sits in silence for a long time. “That’s it,” he finally says. “That’s the song. That’s what John and I would have written if we’d finished it in 1968.

Are you sure? I can feel it. This is right. This is what was supposed to be. He looks at Taylor. You gave me back something I thought I’d lost forever. You let me finish a song with my best friend. Jon was always in the song. Taylor says, “I just helped you hear him.” They mix the song add subtle production.

 Nothing that would distract from the core. Paul’s verses John’s bridge the way it was meant to be. Paul makes a decision. They’ll release it now and then completed 2024. Credits written by Paul McCartney and John Lennon 1968. Bridge Melody restored by Taylor Swift 2024. When the song is released in December 2024, the response is overwhelming.

 Critics call it the most emotionally powerful Beatles song since J’s death. It sounds like a real Beatles song, not a tribute, not a recreation, the real thing. Fans cry listening to it, hearing Paul and J’s voices together. Separated by 56 years, but united in the same song, The Bridge. Taylor’s channeling of J’s melody sounds so authentic that people debate, did Jon actually record this and we never heard it or did Taylor really write it? Music theorists analyze it.

 Taylor’s bridge uses all of J’s signature melodic moves. The interval jumps, the harmonic choices, the way tension and release are balanced. This is J’s musical DNA. Paul does one interview about the song on BBC radio. For 44 years, I’ve lived with this unfinished song. He says, “It was my biggest regret not finishing this conversation with John.

 And then Taylor Swift walked into my studio and she heard what I couldn’t hear. She heard John. She heard his melody in the spaces, in the silences. and she helped me finish what Jon and I started in 1968. Some people have said Taylor wrote the bridge, the interviewer says. Others say she channeled Jon.

 What do you think? I think Jon was always in that song waiting and Taylor was able to hear him. Call it channeling. Call it musical intuition. Call it magic. I don’t care. All I know is that I got to finish a song with my best friend. And that’s a gift I never thought I’d receive. What would John think of this? Paul smiles.

 I think John would be pleased that someone finally finished the bloody song. He hated leaving things unfinished. A year later, Paul is interviewed for a documentary about the Beatles. The interviewer asks, “What’s the most important thing you’ve done in the last decade?” Paul doesn’t hesitate. Finishing now and then with Taylor Swift.

 More important than your own albums, your tours. Yes. Because that song was my unfinished business with John. It was the one thing I couldn’t fix, the one regret I couldn’t resolve. And Taylor gave me the chance to complete it. How did she do it? I don’t know. She heard something I couldn’t hear. Jon’s ghost in the song.

 His melody in the spaces. She got inside J’s musical brain in a way I couldn’t anymore. Maybe because she studied our music with fresh ears. Maybe because she’s not carrying the weight of all our history. Maybe because she’s just that talented. What did it feel like to hear John’s melody again? Paul’s eyes fill with tears. Like time travel? Like speaking to someone who’s been dead for 44 years? Like finishing a conversation that ended abruptly? Like closure? Do you think you’ll work with Taylor again? I hope so. She has a gift. The ability

to channel other musicians, to get inside their heads, to hear what they would hear. That’s rare. That’s special. What would you say to John if you could speak to him now? Paul thinks for a long moment. I’d say, “We finished it now and then. Taylor Swift helped me hear your bridge and it’s beautiful, and I’m sorry it took 56 years, but we got there in the end.

like we always did. 5 years later, Paul McCartney dies peacefully in his sleep at age 87. At his funeral, Taylor Swift performs Now and Then live with a recording of Paul’s vocals. She sings J’s bridge, the bridge she channeled, the bridge that completed a 56-year-old conversation.

 When she finishes, there’s not a dry eye in the church because everyone understands what this song represents. Not just an unfinished Beatles song, but proof that conversations don’t have to end with death. The ghost can speak through music. That younger generations can honor older ones by listening to what they left unfinished. After the funeral, a reporter asks Taylor, “What did now and then mean to you?” “Everything,” she says.

 It taught me that songwriting isn’t just about expressing yourself. It’s about listening to the past, to the ghosts, to the melodies that are hiding in the silences. Do you really think you channeled John Lennon? I think John was always in that song. He left clues. He left his musical DNA in the chord progressions and the spaces.

 I just listened hard enough to hear it. What would you want people to know about Paul? That he carried an unfinished song with him for 56 years. That he never forgot. That he never stopped trying to finish his conversation with his best friend. And that in the end he got to That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed.

Did working on now and then change how you write? Completely. Now, when I write, I think about the ghosts, the conversations I’m starting, the melodies I’m leaving unfinished, and I try to make sure I finish them because you never know how much time you have. What’s the lesson of now and then? Taylor thinks that songs are conversations.

That conversations don’t have to end with death. that younger generations should honor older ones by finishing what they started. And that ghosts are real, not literal ghosts, but musical ghosts. Melodies waiting in the silences, waiting for someone to hear them, waiting for someone to give them voice. in Paul McCartney’s estate.

 Among his personal effects, they find a letter written a few days before he died. It’s addressed to Taylor Swift. Dear Taylor, thank you for hearing John. Thank you for helping me finish our song. Thank you for proving that death doesn’t end conversations. It just pauses them until someone brave enough listens to the silences.

 John and I started now and then. in 1968. We planned to finish it tomorrow, but tomorrow kept not coming until you walked into my studio in 2024. And you heard what I couldn’t hear. You heard John. I’ve written over 500 songs in my life. But now and then is the one I’m most proud of. Not because of the melody, not because of the lyrics, but because you helped me finish a conversation with my best friend that I thought ended in 1980.

 You gave me closure. You gave me peace. You gave me one more moment with John. Thank you for listening to the ghosts. With love and gratitude, Paul Taylor frames the letter, hangs it in her studio, and every time she writes a song, she thinks about Paul and John and the ghost in the studio. And she listens for the melodies hiding in the silences.

For the conversations waiting to be finished, for the ghosts who have something to say, because that’s what songwriters do. We listen to the ghosts and we give them voice. The end. John is still in this song. His melody is there, hidden in the spaces. I can hear him. You gave me back something I thought I’d lost forever.

 The chance to finish a song with my best friend. Taylor Swift and Paul McCartney. November 2024.