Choose Love (2005)
1. Fading In, Fading Out 2. Give Me Back the Beat 3. Oh My Lord 4. Hard To Be True 5. Some People 6. Wrong All the Time 7. Don't Hang Up 8. Choose Love 9. Me and You 10.Satisfied 11.The Turnaround 12.Free Drinks
By the dawn of the 21st century, even being a Beatle wasn’t enough to guarantee a proper record deal. Gone were the days of automatic acclaim and gold-plated distribution. In the new millennium, if your records didn’t sell—and sell well—you were on your own. Fortunately, Ringo Starr had both the name and the means to forge ahead without major-label muscle. Signing to a smaller imprint, he released Choose Love with the likely knowledge that commercial reception would be minimal, regardless of the record’s quality. And ironically, this may be the finest solo album he’s ever made.
Since his quiet 1990s resurgence, Ringo’s musical trajectory had been one of steady refinement—sometimes regressive, often charming, occasionally overcooked—but always unmistakably his. With Choose Love, the training wheels finally come off. No big-name co-writers. No rotating guest lists. Save for one duet, the entire album is homegrown, co-written with his now-consistent inner circle, and presented without artifice. The result is a record that doesn’t lean on reputation but stands on composition alone.
This time, mercifully, the kitsch is kept at bay. One of Ringo’s long-standing missteps has been his tendency to caricature himself on record—winking asides, in-studio jokes, name-dropping for the sake of disarming his critics before they can get a word in. That impulse is largely restrained here. There’s clarity in tone, a purposeful sense of identity, and a refreshing absence of forced cleverness. The opening track, Fading In, Fading Out, sets the tone beautifully. It’s unhurried, melodic, and steeped in the spirit of classic Beatles pop. Lyrically, it feels like an artist making peace with his legacy. Musically, it’s simply superb.
And then there’s Oh My Lord—a track so evocative of George Harrison’s spiritual odes that one could be forgiven for assuming it’s a cover. From the opening drone-like riff (echoing Blue Jay Way) to the sweeping melodic phrasing reminiscent of My Sweet Lord, the song is both tribute and companion piece. It’s contemplative, warm, and unabashedly reverent—a Sunday morning sermon disguised as a pop song. One wonders whether George, somewhere above, smiled at the effort.
Elsewhere, the record takes subtle risks—none of them earth-shattering, but all welcome. Hard to Be True and Don’t Hang Up (a duet with Chrissie Hynde, the lone guest here) both veer into uncharted territory, stylistically speaking. They don’t land immediately, but with time, they reveal unexpected depth. Wrong All the Time feels like a half-step from pure country—a simple ballad with a plaintive melody and a disarming sincerity. And Me and You, a fragile two-minute gem, fades too quickly, leaving you wanting more—a rarity in the Ringo catalogue.
Perhaps the most consistent praise that can be given is this: nothing here feels like filler. Even the songs that don't immediately register carry weight, or at least intention. The album breathes with confidence, not conceit. It has that elusive quality of sounding familiar without being derivative—an unmistakable Beatle atmosphere without the need to chase it.
There will always be those who argue that Ringo or Goodnight Vienna remain his defining solo works. And certainly, they have their place in the pantheon. But Choose Love is the more complete statement—musically coherent, emotionally balanced, and remarkably self-assured. It doesn’t just echo the past; it converses with it.