Great non-Beatles song...

... with a random Beatles reference.

Nilsson...I just can't quit the guy. And for someone who operates a blog about The Beatles, this is fortuitous, as there's no shortage of shared history between the two acts. The list encompasses press conference plugs, surprise late-night phone calls, transatlantic visits, cover songs, tribute mash-ups, collaborations (both sonic and cinematic), epic booze-and-coke benders, best-man wedding duties, and so forth. I've already blogged about much of this, but here's one Nilsson-Fab intersection that I've yet to highlight: Harry's shout-out to The Beatles in "Don't Leave Me."

Off 1968's Aerial Ballet - a delightful hodgepodge dotted with classics - "Don't Leave Me" is full of the tricks, surprises, and wonders that have always set Nilsson apart. Foremost, take notice of how the song begins and where it is by the end. It's a full-on transformation: from subdued and plaintive to effervescent and whacky. In part, this is thanks to the range and elasticity of Nilsson's legendary voice. As with Roy Orbison, his vocal acrobatics often lead you on little adventures. There's also the unconventional use of just a single chorus, the closing half-minute stuffed with Nilsson's signature "nonsensical melodic mortar" (in the words of Grantland's Sean Fennessey), and - getting to the point of this post - the appropriation of "beep beep beep beep yeah" from "Drive My Car" that comes out of nowhere right in the middle of the track. Why is it there? Hardly matters. All I need to know is that it's Harry and The Beatles.

"Everybody loves Ringo!"

Here's a recent cover story from Variety about Richie. Much to enjoy, including some astute takes on the ex-Beatle's legacy and speculation as to why other high-profile drummers from the '60s earned more plaudits than Ringo did. I also couldn't agree more about how well he's aged. It's remarkable. Ringo has no business being 73 and looking as natural and non-plastic-y as he does. Long may he record, tour, and fulfill his self-assigned duties as rock 'n' roll's senior good-vibes emissary to the world.

Extended excerpt:

Blue Note label chief, producer and musician Don Was, who has worked with Ringo repeatedly, calls him the most underrated drummer in rock history. “He changed the way rock ’n’ roll drummers approach music,” Was says.

If Ringo was overshadowed by the brilliant songwriting of his Fab Four mates, especially Lennon and McCartney, who, says Walsh, “commanded your focus with whatever they were doing,” the spotlight on his percussive gifts was further diminished by a group that stopped touring in 1966, concentrating on studio recordings that became ever more conceptual and inventive with each outing. This occurred at a time when jam bands like the Who, the Jimi Hendrix Experience and Led Zeppelin started airing it out in arenas, giving ample room for their flamboyant drummers to shine in front of a captive audience.

“Being an ensemble player in a band is the most important thing,” Was asserts. “The Beatles were a great band because they listened to each other and reacted off each other very much the way a jazz group does. It requires subverting the ego and being part of a whole. The Beatles are an amazing example of that.”

Santelli goes so far as to call Starr the most important drummer in the history of rock. “The reason I say that is prior to Ringo, certainly there were rock ’n’ roll bands, but hardly anybody knew who the drummer was. Ringo comes along and changes everything. (He has) a very interesting and compelling sense of humor and personality, and we get to know him on a first-name basis.”

Anybody who knows the Beatles’ music intimately knows the tympanic accents and fills as clearly today as when they were recorded: the famous drum roll that launches into “She Loves You”; the shimmering incandescence of his cymbal work on so many of those early hits; the impressionistic free-form of “Rain”; the loping cadence and crispy snare of “Sexy Sadie”; the haunting, almost cinematic drama and rich texture behind “Long, Long”; the building, tour-de-force crescendo that leads up to the “The End” on “Abbey Road.”

“Here’s what I discovered in the very first session that I did with him,” recalls Walsh. “He came in and I said, ‘You want to see a chart on the song?’ And he said, ‘No, give me the lyrics.’ He responds to the singer. A great example of that is when he plays on the Beatles’ ‘Something’ and he does that fill that’s such a musical response it’s almost like a guitar player; there’s notes to it.”

Ringo himself says he brought time and openness to the table as the Beatles drummer. He would do things like putting tea towels on the drums. “The towels would deaden the sound, and give you depth,” he explains. “Until I got the Maple kit, which has the depth of real skin. So if you listen to ‘(She Came in Through the) Bathroom Window’ and ‘Polythene Pam,’ it’s like a tom-tom solo all throughout.”

Review of "The Beatles Solo: The Illustrated Chronicles of John, Paul, George, and Ringo after the Beatles"

(This review was originally published by PopMatters).

More than other works of non-fiction, Beatles books need to justify themselves. With such a preposterous glut available and new installments joining the ranks every few months, it’s not enough – or shouldn’t be, anyway – for authors and publishers to simply coast on the Fab Four brand (redoubtable though it may be). What results from the industry's cynical, because-we-can mentality is that, for every Tune In – a rigorous history tome that actually boasts original research – there are dozens and dozens of superfluous offerings like 100 Things Beatles Fans Should Know & Do Before They Die or The Beatles in 100 Objects. Curious about the band’s horizontal pursuits? Randy Scouse Gits: The Sex Lives of the Beatles will fit the bill. All four of these titles hit shelves last year. The point almost states itself: The Beatles are the greatest band in pop music history, but enough is enough. These days, "a must read for Beatles fans" loosely translates as "coming soon to a used bookstore near you."

The Beatles Solo is more of the same, even with the minor caveat that author and journalist Mat Snow recounts the less familiar post-Fab existences of John, Paul, George, and Ringo. Yes, here are the messy, far-ranging, often fascinating solo years … treated to summaries that don't rise above the level of slight and perfunctory. Each exceptionally slim volume of this four-pack has the weight and feel of a glorified Wikipedia synopsis. Sure, they're longer, more polished, and heavier on opinion (sometimes gratingly so, as I’ll detail later), but surface-skimming is still the dominant mode. George’s historic Concert for Bangladesh walks away with three pages of actual text. Macca's fruitful and varied run since the turn of the century? Six. And, predictably, very few of the particulars will be new to Beatles enthusiasts.

But not everyone is a fanatic. What about less avid (but still interested) types who might have use for a primer that encompasses Imagine and Red Rose Speedway, the Traveling Wilburies and the All-Starr Band? This was probably Snow’s guiding concept for The Beatles Solo, and it’s appealing in theory. But there’s a small complication: the list price of $50. In addition to the hyper-abridged career bios, each book comes attractively decorated with an array of photographs: individual shots, album artwork, advertisements, concert footage, movie scenes, etc. Snow didn't skimp. And the whole package is housed in a nifty slipcase that features stylized caricatures of the Four on the front. In terms of production values, The Beatles Solo grades out as first-rate. But these enhancements also inflate the book's price tag to the point where it's completely at odds with the introductory spirit of Snow's mini histories. There’s a clash of visions at work. The generous eye candy notwithstanding, who would want to shell out top dollar for a mere token tour of post-Beatledom?

That tour unfolds along roughly these lines for each Beatle: auspicious success early on, followed by creative misfires, commercial washouts, and personal failings, followed by renewal and resurgence rooted in lifestyle changes and new outlets. Despite my criticism of Snow's reductive modus operandi, there is some truth to the general pattern.

For instance: John hit his solo artistic peak with John Lennon / Plastic Ono Band and Imagine, his first two proper LPs – and two of the finest issued by an ex-Beatle. He then bottomed out as a songwriter on 1972’s Some Time in New York City – an instantly fossilized overdose of radical chic – and as a responsible adult from ‘73-‘75 during his “lost weekend”, a dissolute 18-month separation from Yoko that found Lennon rampaging and recording in L.A. with Ringo, Harry Nilsson, and other notable rock ‘n’ roll debauchees. As Snow writes, John was “losing himself in vodka, Brandy Alexanders, and marching powder, yet clearly having no fun at all.” Realizing he’d gone astray, John eventually reconciled with Yoko before shunning the music business altogether and retreating into a 5-year period of Mr. Mom domesticity. (His second son, Sean, was born in late ’75.) John’s return to the spotlight, punctuated by 1980’s Double Fantasy, was of course tragically short-lived.

How about a less-chronicled example? Mr. Starkey’s career has veered from smash single "Photograph" and the rest of Ringo to a spate of flop records, even worse films, and alcohol abuse to sobriety, the touring bonhomie of the All-Starr Band, and reruns of Shining Time Station. A long and winding road, if you will. But not in Snow's handling.

(Side note: Of late, Ringo has been locked in a public contest with Yoko to see who can invoke peace and love more frequently. Hey, I hope they both win.)

It’s to Snow’s credit that, despite furnishing only bare-bones sketches of the solo years, he didn't go down the path of hagiography on top of that. The Beatles Solo is a warts-and-all retelling. But that’s not to suggest he’s evenhanded in his treatment of each Fab. The short version: Snow is emphatically *not* on Team Paul. And his repeated underlining of this fact grows stale in a hurry.

Comparing Paul’s “Too Many People” and John’s “How Do You Sleep?”, which both were aimed at the opposite party, Snow opines that at least the Imagine broadside “was written in blood and acid in contrast to the vanilla essence that flowed through Paul’s writing.” Indeed, kudos to John because he was by nature an asshole and thus a better one than Paul. Or how about the implication that when John reached #1 on the charts, it was born of his high-minded artistry; but when desperate-to-please Paul did so, he had only his shallow “craft and whimsy” to thank.

Lastly (though there are more illustrations), observe this line: “Though somewhat fragmentary and oblique, in keeping with the movie footage, George’s Wonderwall music (sic) held its own when compared with Paul’s 1966 soundtrack for The Family Way”. But why compare the two at all - they aren't remotely similar - unless the sole purpose was to take a needless and immature potshot at Paul? Snow couldn’t help himself, it seems. I mean, go ahead and stake a claim to your favorite or least favorite Beatle - confession: I've never really connected with the Quiet One - but please don’t be so cheap and frivolous when making your case.

In the most significant sense, Snow said too little with The Beatles Solo. And in a far more trifling but obnoxious way, he said too much. Beatles books are rarely win-win propositions. If you're a solo-years novice and a handsome but information-light and overpriced doorstop sounds satisfying, then The Beatles Solo will suit your tastes. If not, look elsewhere. You won't have to contend with a shortage of options.

A night at the Grammys

Before we get too far removed from Grammy night, I thought I'd post this pair of videos.

The first is of Macca and Ringo's much-ballyhooed joint performance of "Queenie Eye" (the second and perhaps final single off New). The verdict: Though Richie plays a secondary role to Paul's regular drummer, Abe Laboriel, Jr., it's still a pleasure to watch the two ex-Beatles in tandem onstage. And it's a superb song - frivolous, flighty fun but impeccably crafted, with a sense of forward momentum that's dynamic and ear-catching. Paul nails the vocal too, 71 years old and all.

The second clip shows Ringo, flanked by a well-stocked backing band, delivering his most famous solo hit, "Photograph". Big, booming, widescreen - thumbs up. Richard Perry, who produced the song back in 1973, clearly borrowed a page from the Phil Spector manual.

That same evening, Paul and Ringo were honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award. The Cute Beatle also racked up four more Grammy wins, bringing his total haul to 18 (which includes those he won as a Fab). He shared Best Rock Song with Dave Grohl, Krist Novoselic, and Pat Smear - the surviving members of Nirvana - for their fantastic Sound City jam, "Cut Me Some Slack". Watch these most unlikely collaborators accept the award here.

"Back Off Boogaloo"

Circling back to the topic of Ringo and Marc Bolan's collaborative partnership, below is "Back Off Boogaloo," a 1972 single from Ringo that was apparently sparked into existence by Bolan.

Via Wikipedia: In a 1977 interview, Starr explained that the phrase "Back Off Boogaloo" was inspired when he and fellow musician (and close friend) Marc Bolan had dinner one night, and Bolan used the word "boogaloo" multiple times in his sentences. Starr said that after dinner, when he had been half awake and half asleep, the beat and tune for the song had become stuck in his head. He went to find a tape recorder to record the song but had trouble when all his tape recorders either were broken or had no batteries, adding, "So, I stole batteries from the kids toys and I got the song down."[citation needed] Ringo also reiterated this story in 1998 on VH1 Storytellers. This would contradict a popular legend that 'Boogaloo' was a nickname for Paul McCartney and that the song was Starr's message to McCartney to "back off" the lawsuits and return to making good music (as the lyric says, "give me something tasty"); and not to "pretend that you're dead" as the "Paul is dead" rumor had perpetuated.[citation needed]

Produced by George, "Back Off Boogaloo" was a hit for Ringo, reaching #9 on the U.S. charts and #2 in the U.K. I can understand why. It's a chugging, chorus-happy earworm that, when paired with its whimsical odd-couple video, has the feel of inspired nonsense.

"The Greatest Rock Spectacle of the Decade"

When I last wrote about the Concert for Bangladesh, I had this to say:

One of the central pleasures of the concert (as shown on the 2005 DVD) is that, notwithstanding the handful of rock 'n' roll powerhouses and living legends that participated, it was the well-regarded but still second-fiddle keyboardist Billy Preston who completely stole the show. In my view, his soulful rendering of "That's the Way God Planned It" and the animated, loose-limbed boogieing that he punctuates the song with outshine the two ex-Beatles' handiwork, Eric Clapton's unrehearsed guitar-playing, and Bob Dylan's mini-set. Preston's stage presence is truly radiant and even has an unmissable spiritual flair. There's also a lot of simple charm in the spontaneous feel of his performance. In sum, it's the most memorable moment of a concert not lacking in talent-heavy highlights.

After watching the film again, I thought I should go into greater detail. It deserves better.

Because the Concert became a template for future pop charity events like Live Aid and Farm Aid, it can be easy to focus on the significance of its legacy and lose sight of how incredible it was simply as a rock 'n' roll concert(s)*. No single performance is as memorable as "That's the Way God Planned It," but there isn't a bad apple among the whole batch. Every song delivers.

George and his super-group opened the show with three songs from All Things Must Pass: "Wah-Wah," "My Sweet Lord" and "Awaiting on You All." That's three Walls of Sound played live at Madison Square Garden. A perfect fit, as it turned out. Freed from the confines of the studio, the songs don't suffer from that gauzy, boxed-in quality that Phil Spector lathered all over his productions. These are the IMAX versions, exploding with bold color and a sonic hugeness that works much better live than on record. "Wah-Wah" in particular is a revelation. Next was "That's the Way God Planned It," which was followed by Ringo's star turn, "It Don't Come Easy." Ringo being Ringo, it's a perky, crowd-pleasing performance. Then came two more cuts from George: "Beware of Darkness," which features Leon Russell as a guest vocalist, and "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," which teams George with Eric Clapton on lead guitar. Because of his crippling heroin addiction at the time, Clapton wasn't expected to show. Only with the aid of methadone did he find himself able to function (and not all that well). Apart from the Clapton drama, the performance is noteworthy because it was the first time that "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" had ever been done live (the same was true for "Here Comes the Sun" and "Something," which came later). Next was Leon Russell's change-of-pace medley of "Jumpin' Jack Flash" and "Young Blood"; then George's delicate, stripped down rendition of "Here Comes the Sun"; and then the surprise of the night: Bob Dylan. Dylan hadn't been onstage in several years, and George had serious doubts he would make it. Though a nervous wreck, he did show, and the crowd received him rapturously. As depicted on the film, Dylan played "A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall," "It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry," "Blowin' in the Wind" and "Just Like a Woman." In that brief moment, the spirit of Sixties idealism was revived. Finally, once Dylan wrapped up, George returned to the mic and closed the show with "Something" and "Bangla Desh," which was the first charity single in pop music history. It was a day of many firsts.

Again, what a collection of songs. And, just as much, what a collection of musicians: George, Ringo, Clapton, Dylan, Ravi Shankar**, Billy Preston, Klaus Voorman, Leon Russell, Jim Keltner, Jesse Ed Davis, Badfinger, and more. That's an embarrassment of riches. George had cultivated many strong relationships over the years, and the Concert testified to how well-regarded he was. It was an event rooted in friendship.

Of course, a few of George's closest friends from the near past were conspicuously absent. In the early stages of planning, John expressed interest in playing, but he later backed out. George had stipulated that Yoko could not be involved, which apparently led to a dispute between her and John. After the Concert, the excuse John gave for his absence was that he had been on vacation in the Virgin Islands at the time. Paul, on the other hand, was a firm no from the start. He said that too much bad blood remained from the breakup. He couldn't stomach the thought of working alongside Allen Klein in any capacity.

In the end, it didn't matter. As with All Things Must Pass, the Concert for Bangladesh was George's moment to shine. To this day, it's still a major part of his legacy. The Concert started out as a noble cause but became a landmark event thanks to those superlative musicians and those classic songs.

* - The Concert actually consisted of two installments, but the film combined them into one.

** - I apologize for ignoring Shankar and the Indian music set. It holds little interest for me. I appreciate the craft but don't care for the creation.

Don't pass Ringo by

I write a lot about John and Paul, not enough about George, and woefully little about Ringo. Such is the natural order of things with The Beatles. To be sure, I make no apologies for the considerable space I devote to the Lennon-McCartney tandem, and I feel I'm on the path to correcting my neglect of George. As for Ringo, it's a different story. I admire him as a drummer; he added terrific style and color to The Beatles' music. And I have no time for those lazy, dried-out jokes about his "luck" in being a Fab; the others sought him out for a reason. But it shouldn't be lost on anyone that Ringo has never been a noteworthy songwriter. Far from it. His output, it seems, is judged more on the basis of charm and feel-goodness than artistry and technical skill. Modest expectations and upfront good-will often occasion reviews that are chock-full of awkward faint praise (one line from an Amazon.com write-up: Ringo "does not embarrass himself at all"). In other words, Ringo doesn't permit the most rewarding or honest conditions for evaluating an album. I've avoided his solo discography because the post-Fab careers of the other three interest me far more and I feel more comfortable being critical of their music. Well today marks the end of those days. This is a Beatles blog, and Ringo's voice deserves to be heard.

Ringo's first solo outing, 1970's Sentimental Journey, is an album of popular standards. At first blush, it may seem like a curious genre escapade for a rock 'n' roll drummer and country/western enthusiast, but - as Wikipedia explains - "the idea was to create an album of standards that would reflect his parents' favourite songs." Against the odds, Ringo was one-upping Paul, The Beatles' arch-sentimentalist, in the nostalgia department. To produce, he enlisted George Martin, who was likely tickled by the opportunity to work with a Beatle on his home turf: florid strings, booming brass, singsongy fluff. For the arrangements, Ringo brought in an array of big-name talents: Richard Perry, Maurice Gibb, Quincy Jones, and more. Recording began in late October 1969 and wrapped up the following March. The final product was released on March 27, a full three weeks before McCartney came out. (I like to imagine an alternate universe in which it was actually Ringo's debut solo album that hastened The Beatles' demise.) Though reviews were mixed, Sentimental Journey hit #7 on the UK charts.

As with Kisses on the Bottom, I'm not on strong footing writing about an album like Sentimental Journey. I'm pretty ignorant of music from the pre-rock 'n' roll era, and I don't have much of an ear for jazz, big band or show tunes. Plus, this is exactly the kind of album that leads to cliched talk of "charm" and the like. But I'm in too deep at this point. My layman's take on Sentimental Journey is that it's a mixed bag of easy listens - several gems and pleasant confections alongside a handful of so-so cuts that bleed together - and it may work to greater or lesser degrees depending on your comfort level with Ringo as a singer.

Ringo's voice isn't an ideal fit for this showy style; flat and earthbound, it can't fill out a big sonic canvas. If this objection looms large in your mind, it'll likely take you out of Sentimental Journey. The easygoing title track will just plod; the big jazz of "Night and Day" and "Blue, Turning Grey Over You" will feel too big for the guy at the mic; and the lushness of "Whispering Grass (Don't Tell the Trees)" will seem wasted without the right voice as an anchor. Indeed, some of these songs need a stronger presence in the middle. However, if you focus on the positive associations that Ringo and his familiar, folksy voice can recall, you may enjoy what you hear more.

Then again, each song is different. Ringo's vox may be pedestrian, but "Bye Bye Blackbird" is still a bright and bouncy jaunt that wouldn't be out of place on "The White Album." Better yet is "Love Is a Many-Splendoured Thing," a shimmering, wide-screen take on the Oscar-winning classic. The huge vocal accompaniment that hovers behind Ringo delivers a dazzling effect. Finally, on more low-key numbers like "I'm a Fool to Care," "Dream" and "Let the Rest of the World Go By," Ringo sounds right at home.

To no surprise, I haven't avoided all of the Ringo review cliches I cited above. I'll add one more. Sentimental Journey is a hit-or-miss vehicle for Ringo's always-winning *personality*. It's hard not to root for an album that was essentially made for someone's mom. Richard Starkey = The Beatles' clown prince. Going forward, I hope to see more of him in these parts.

Happy 72nd, Ringo!

Post-Beatles greatness

Ed Masley of The Arizona Republic took a stab at compiling the ten best Beatles solo albums. Here are the results.

Inevitably, such a list is going to be greeted with contrary opinions (just look at the comments), and I myself would make some major changes to what Masley arrived at. Band on the Run should be much closer to the top; Ringo probably deserves to be included; and several of those Wings' albums just don't belong. And, respectfully, I must also disagree with this comment from Masley's summary of Imagine: "... 'How Do You Sleep?' takes the shine off his (John's) halo with a vicious swipe at Paul McCartney." Yes, that song was cheap and hateful, but John never had a halo to sully in the first place. Not even close, in fact.

More Ringo press

- As part of his promotional campaign for Y Not, Ringo sat down with USA Today and NPR for interviews.

Side note: I don't think I like this physical description of Ringo, which comes from the USA Today piece: "Starr is a wisp of a man yet far from a relic." Now, if you're going to make that kind of observation, why not try to be a little more complimentary? Or even just neutral? "... wisp of a man" is a diss, even if it's an unintentional one. To me, it paints a picture of frailness and ill-health. And no, "far from a relic" doesn't do much to counter that sense. Furthermore, what's the point of a physical description of Ringo? It seems pretty unnecessary.

- Here are clips of Ringo's appearance on The Daily Show where he played some old and new material.

- Lastly, here are two more reviews of Y Not: One positive and one negative. With my post about the critical reception of Ringo's solo work in mind, I found this line from the positive review both telling and predictable: "In addition, Starr's voice has limited range, but his charm and enthusiasm tend to compensate for any lack of technical ability."

Ringo and critical taste

(Full disclosure: I haven't listened to Y Not from front-to-back. Make of that what you will as you read this post).

A question came to mind as I read through some reviews of Ringo's new album, Y Not: what criteria do pop critics use when assessing the music of someone like Ringo Starr? I bring this up because I noticed a couple of heavily qualified though positive takes on the album that, written as they were, seemed to suggest that much more than the quality of the music was being considered. One such review, composed by Martin Bandyke, comes with the header, "Ringo's CD delights; but why wouldn't it?" and includes this line: "Yeah, yeah, yeah...his solo career hasn't been much to shout about since, oh, 1974 or so." This has the feel of faint praise, but faint praise that still conveys a generally approving message. The same is true of this mini-review, written by Sal Nunziato, which states: "It's bloody Ringo. Nothing special, but nothing terrible either." Both Bandyke and Nunziato basically concede that Ringo isn't much to speak of as a solo artist, but neither follows this line of thinking to one of its possible conclusions - that his album just isn't very good and doesn't merit a recommendation, however equivocal. Is it the case, then, that other factors are strongly influencing their opinions? And if so, what are they?

Before I continue, it should be noted that all of this is mere speculation. I can't pretend to know with certainty what informs or colors the judgments reached by these critics. At the same time, I don't think my points are unreasonable (though they might be a bit obvious).

Now, if other considerations are at work, they're likely some combination of Ringo's status as a legend, his noted likability on a human level, and circumscribed expectations.

From personal experience, I can attest to the difficulty of mentally setting aside Ringo's storied past when trying to evaluate his solo work. It's a tall task. The greatness of what he contributed to in his previous life is inescapably present even in his most uninspired post-Beatles material. That's not to say it somehow improves the quality of the music. But when you hear Ringo's familiar voice or come across drum parts that recall Beatles songs, thoughts of his former band - pleasant and admiring thoughts - are often not far behind and can easily shade your views. On principle, I wouldn't find it right if Ringo was given leniency on account of decades-old accomplishments. Ideally, his music would just speak for itself, untouched by predispositions. But it's an obvious overreach to expect that kind of pure criticism from everyone. It would only be human for Bandyke and Nunziato to go easy on Ringo in part because of who he is.

And not only is Ringo a former Beatle, he's also a very endearing individual who doesn't readily invite dislike upon himself. This is another factor that could cause critics to hesitate in coming down hard on his music. Who wants to be the one that trashes the work of such a warm and generous guy, someone who has made "peace and love" his life's mantra? Doing so might feel callous and false. A critic with this in mind might then chose to overlook certain shortcomings in the music and focus on, say, how it makes them feel. Positive vibes can be infectious, after all, and Ringo has cultivated plenty of them over the years.

Perhaps more importantly, there's also the issue of expectations. Because many of us don't expect very challenging, inventive, or even interesting music from Ringo the Solo Artist, we don't take him to task for not delivering those qualities in his albums. As long as he pumps out cleanly produced, feel-good pop-rock with lyrics about peace, love, and understanding, a lot of people will be satisfied. This explains sentiments like, "It's bloody Ringo. Nothing special, but nothing terrible either." At the risk of stating the obvious, "nothing terrible" is a low bar to use when appraising an album. It calls into question the propriety of the limited expectations game. And, again, it makes you wonder what all is animating the critic's opinion. The same goes for the title of the first review I cited: "Ringo's CD delights; but why wouldn't it?" This seems to go beyond even the realm of expectations, indicating strong preconceptions. "... but why wouldn't it?" That line comes too close to ruling out the possibility of not liking the album and should maybe raise some red flags (Maybe not though. There might be something to it, but I probably shouldn't put much emphasis on the title of a review as opposed to the actual content).

I should reiterate that I don't mean to denigrate anyone's journalistic integrity. I also don't want to suggest that there are no critics who have reviewed Ringo's solo albums unfavorably. Many have, of course. He is in no way immune to forceful criticism. I just wonder if too much weight is given to factors outside the music itself when an album like Y Not is reviewed and if this is regrettable or merely to be expected.

Ringo on "Late Night"

As you'd expect, Ringo was his affable, laid-back self on Late Night Tuesday evening. Armed with a ready smile, he seemed game for all that Jimmy Fallon had in store. Most of the talk revolved around the Beatles - their music, clothes, popularity, etc. - but the two also discussed Y Not, the challenges of The Beatles: Rock Band, and Ringo's upcoming tour. Throughout all of this, Ringo emanated a warmth and charm that were hard to resist.

Fallon certainly couldn't: the dude was giddy. Part of his appeal as a host is that he doesn't suppress his own fanboy enthusiasm during interviews, and last night he very excitedly welcomed, chatted with, and extolled his legendary guest. He even got the honor of singing backup to Ringo on "With a Little Help from My Friends" to conclude the show.

That performance, along with earlier ones of "I Wanna Be Your Man" (rollicking), "Walk With You" (its target: your heartstrings), and "The Other Side of Liverpool" (darker than most of Ringo's material,) and the actual interview, can be watched here (you can until 2/05/10, that is; the show is broken up into various video segments here). Overall, it was a fine time, and the sight alone of a healthy 70 year-old man actively and creatively living out his life made it for me.

Ringo in the news

Y Not was released today, and Jim Fusilli of the Wall Street Journal recently sat down with Ringo to discuss it; both Rolling Stone and the LA Times found the album charmingly agreeable. Also, on Tuesday January 19th, Ringo will be performing at the Grammy Museum in Los Angeles, and this summer he'll be hitting the road with his All-Starrs (more details here).

"Walk With You"

That's the title of Ringo's new single - a duet with Sir Paul - and it can be found here. Rolling Stone has more on the song (though the venerable rock mag couldn't get its name right).

More on "Y Not"

Here's a fairly detailed summary of Ringo's forthcoming album.

Excerpt:
For the first time in one of popular music's most enduring and illustrious careers, Ringo Starr has decided to take charge and produce himself. The result is perhaps the most personal and impressive album of this rock legend's entire solo career. How on earth did Starr finally locate the absolutely perfect producer to work with him? "Well, I looked in the mirror," Ringo says with a smile. "And I was looking real groovy that day."

Starr's decision to take a stronger role in the recording of his latest and greatest solo album was a significant and fortuitous one. "I didn't do it at the start," Starr says. "I was the least involved in the production of the Beatle records. And then with my solo records, I worked with some other great producers like Richard Perry, Arif Mardin, and Don Was. So it just seemed like that's the way that it goes. Then suddenly, it's another point in your life, and you say, `I'm going do this now.' So I'll be producing anything I make from now on. That's the good news. It's a confidence thing, I suppose. And Y Not is really another way of me saying, "Yes, I can."

Macca joins Ringo on "Y Not"

Rolling Stone reports on it.

Excerpt:
Ringo Starr grabbed a little help from his friends for his new album Y Not, due January 12th, 2010. The Beatles drummer will be joined by his Fab Four bandmate Paul McCartney on a couple of tracks, including first single “Walk With Me,” which finds Macca and Starr sharing vocals. Other guests and songwriters on Y Not, Ringo’s first album since 2008’s Liverpool 8, include Joe Walsh, Joss Stone, Van Dyke Parks, Ben Harper and Richard Marx.

Talking about working with his old Beatles mate, Starr said in a press release, “Paul was doing the Grammys, so he came over to the house and was playing bass on ‘Peace Dream.’ So I played him this other track and Paul said, ‘Give me the headphones. Give me a pair of cans.’ And he went to the mike and he just invented that part where he follows on my vocal. That was all Paul McCartney, and there could be nothing better.”

New Ringo album in January

Hat tip to Steve Marinucci who, as usual, has the scoop.

Excerpt:
A new album by former Beatles drummer Ringo Starr, titled "Y Not," is coming in January. Ringo's press office confirmed the January release and told us a further announcement would be coming soon.

Friday Beatles YouTube

"No No Song"


(If the video is removed, go here.)