Bad Boy (1978)
1. Who Needs a Heart 2. Bad Boy 3. Lipstick Traces (On a Cigarette) 4. Heart on My Sleeve 5. Where Did Our Love Go? 6. Hard Times 7. Tonight 8. Monkey See Monkey Do 9. Old Time Relovin' 10.A Man Like Me
Just five years after his improbable solo chart-topping streak, Ringo Starr found himself squarely in pursuit of a ghost—chasing the phantom of earlier success with diminishing returns. The world that once embraced him with open arms had turned away somewhat, and one suspects that behind the sunglasses and wide grin, the sad-eyed Liverpudlian was quietly grappling with the sting of fading relevance. With Bad Boy, he at least had the good sense to step off the glitter-ball and retreat from the garish wreckage of Ringo the 4th, opting instead for a safer terrain: gentle pop-rock with the occasional nod to nostalgia.
As with so many of Ringo’s albums, this one is a textbook case of hit-and-miss. The material is split between new compositions and carefully selected covers, none of which feel particularly risky, but that’s rather the point. The title track, Bad Boy, aims for retro charm with its nod to '50s doo-wop, but undercuts itself with the grating “oy-oy-oy-oy” refrain—more novelty record than heartfelt homage.
Curiously, one of the more effective tracks is his rendition of Where Did Our Love Go, a Supremes classic that, on paper, seems wholly ill-suited to Ringo’s range and temperament. And yet, with the help of a sleek arrangement, it lands surprisingly well—if not transcendent, then at least tasteful. One imagines that had he taken this more measured approach across the entire record, the results might have been more consistently listenable.
The album front-loads its stronger material. Who Needs a Heart opens with a measure of conviction, and Lipstick Traces (On a Cigarette) delivers a pleasant enough jaunt through familiar territory. These are unpretentious, workmanlike songs that succeed because they don’t try too hard to be more than they are. The only real concession to the dying embers of the disco era comes with Tonight, a half-hearted dancefloor cut that feels like it wandered in from a different record—and perhaps a different artist entirely.
By the halfway point, the energy wanes, and one gets the sense that both artist and listener are running out of steam. Still, compared to its predecessor, Bad Boy is a notable improvement—less cringeworthy, more confident, and at the very least, self-aware. Ringo, no longer straining to be the life of the party, is instead content to linger at the back of the room, tapping along with whatever tune suits the moment.
Not essential by any means, but after the misfire that came before, this was a welcome course correction.