Stop and Smell the Roses (1981)
1. Private Property 2. Wrack My Brain 3. Drumming is My Madness 4. Attention 5. Stop and Take the Time to Smell the Roses 6. Dead Giveaway 7. You Belong To Me 8. Sure to Fall (In Love With You) 9. You've Got a Nice Way 10. Back Off Boogaloo
By 1981, Ringo Starr’s solo career had long since slid from the upper echelons of the pop charts into the periphery of polite indifference. And yet, with Stop and Smell the Roses, there was a renewed attempt—albeit modest—to return to the formula that had served him so well in the early '70s: call in the friends, particularly the famous ones, and cobble together a set of songs that sound better than they ought to on paper. This time, however, the mood was undeniably bittersweet. The murder of John Lennon midway through the sessions casts a long, mournful shadow, and his absence is keenly felt—especially considering that McCartney and Harrison both contribute.
The album opens with Private Property, unmistakably a McCartney number: breezy, melodic, and frustratingly slight. It’s followed by Wrack My Brain, George Harrison’s offering, which fares rather better. Darker in tone and sharper in construction, it’s arguably the strongest cut on the record and one of the few post-Beatle tracks Ringo ever recorded that feels like it might have fit (just barely) on a proper Harrison album. A second McCartney composition, Attention, appears later and fares better than the first—more tuneful, less throwaway, and delivered with genuine charm.
If the first half of the record feels like Ringo cautiously dipping his toe back into the water, the second half is where things begin to properly cohere. Dead Giveaway, a moody, bass-driven standout, offers a rare moment of gravity in an otherwise lightweight catalog. You Belong to Me is wistful and understated, while Sure to Fall (In Love with You) strikes a sweet, country-tinged note without falling into parody. There’s even a revamped version of Back Off Boogaloo—a sort of revisionist medley that name-checks his past and folds in musical quotations from the Beatles themselves. Initially jarring, it improves with repeated listens and earns its place.
But the high points only make the lows more confounding. Drumming Is My Madness, a Nilsson-penned novelty track, seems to exist purely to test the listener’s patience. Amusing in theory, in practice it’s an ill-advised lark that undermines what’s otherwise a fairly earnest record. And then there’s the title track—Stop and Smell the Roses—a shambolic, half-spoken chant that suggests not so much relaxation as intoxication. With its infamous “roses in noses” line, it’s less a song than a cautionary tale. One almost hears the clinking of empty glasses in the background. That some listeners don’t detest it as vehemently as they ought to is a minor mystery.
Originally released to little fanfare, the album quickly vanished from shelves and remained out of print for years, later receiving a brief CD resurrection before vanishing again. These days, it's often remembered—if at all—as a curious footnote. And yet, there’s a respectable record buried within the chaos. With just a bit more discipline, Stop and Smell the Roses might’ve been a modest comeback rather than a cult curiosity. As it stands, it’s one of the more listenable chapters in Ringo’s uneven post-Beatle narrative—a flawed, fragile thing, but not without its merits.