Ringo's Rotogravure (1976)
1. A Dose of Rock & Roll 2. Hey! Baby 3. Pure Gold 4. Cryin' 5. You Don't Know Me at All 6. Cookin' (In the Kitchen of Love) 7. I'll Still Love You 8. This Be Called a Song 9. Las Brisas 10.Lady Gaye 11.Spooky Weirdness
By 1976, Ringo was still chasing the ghost of Ringo—his celebrated 1973 masterstroke where everything (and everyone) aligned perfectly. With Ringo’s Rotogravure, the formula is once again attempted: call in favors from old bandmates, sprinkle in some A-list guest players, and stir with a ladle of charm. But times had changed. And rather self-consciously, Ringo tried to change with them. The result? A record with a faint disco sheen clinging to its sides—not enough to overwhelm, but just enough to feel like an ill-fitting shirt worn to someone else’s party.
Curiously, the tracks that work best are the ones Ringo actually helped write. There’s the gently twanged Cryin’, a mournful country-flavored tune that suits his drawl surprisingly well. Las Brisas adds a Latin pulse, while Lady Gaye strolls by as an unpretentious, slightly breezy piece of mid-tempo pop. None of them demand much, but they all go down easily, which is more than can be said for some of the star-powered contributions.
Paul McCartney’s Pure Gold sounds more like alloy, and John Lennon’s Cookin’ (In the Kitchen of Love) never really heats up—good intentions, no spark. This Be Called a Song, donated by Eric Clapton, is a peculiar plodder that never seems to find its legs. And Ringo’s penchant for breaking into offhand commentary during tracks—surely a remnant of some studio “vibe”—comes across less as charming spontaneity and more like someone mistaking the intercom for the vocal booth.
Even the lead single, A Dose of Rock ’n’ Roll, is less prescription-strength than promised. Lightweight and laced with clichés, it lacks the infectious punch of his earlier hits. Oddly enough, the most earworm-worthy track might be Hey! Baby, which is so cheerfully cheesy it somehow wins you over by sheer insistence. You Don’t Know Me at All is arguably the album’s most infectious offering and, in a more logical world, would’ve been tapped as the single.
But perhaps the most successful hand-off comes from George Harrison. I’ll Still Love You—though never intended for Ringo—fits like a well-worn glove, and benefits from a sincerity not always present elsewhere on the album. George, unlike the others, knew exactly how to write to Ringo, not just for him.
In the end, Ringo’s Rotogravure coasts more than it drives, and while it never quite reclaims the highs of 1973, it does prove that Ringo could still deliver a decent listen when the stars aligned—and when he stayed out of his own way.