RINGO STARR Ringo (Apple)

A horse is a horse, of course, of course,

Unless the horse is a singing horse.

You've never heard of a singing horse?

Well, listen to Ringo Starr.

stolen from theme song to Mr, Ed

This is the album that Beatle fans from all over the world have eagerly been awaiting for six months. This is the album on which the Beatles supposedly got together for a final recording session which would overshadow the lame Let It Be effort. This is the album recently referred to as the "Last Great Beatles Masterpiece" and which prompted immediate publications like Beatles Forever and Beatles Are Back. And what do they call it? They call it Ringo.

Undoubtedly, it's Ringo's scheme (mastermind that he is) to re-focus attention upon himself, the only surviving Beatlenik who still believes in Beatlemania. Certainly it was Ringo who devised those famous "Paul-isdead-now" rumors and gimmicks, and most likely he's the reason the Beatles broke up in the first place. I mean, it's no secret that he's been trying_to kill them off for years.

For example, consider Ringo's charming songs like "Yellow Submarine" (perhaps the dumbest song ever recorded in the entire history of pop music) or "Octopus" Garden" (with its hauntingly Spectorish production — yuk, yuk) or "With a Little Help From My Friends" (originally titled "Five Finger Boogie," but the rest of the Beatles didn't think that had enough class, or even "Don't Pass Me By"(gag). Now why the hell would any fool include such junk on an album unless he was seeking murder from his fans?

Anyway, the Beatles faded. Lennon raped this oriental Dadaist and had to marry her. Harrison shaved his beanie and started hustling for gurus. McCartney and his Lovely Linda with the Big Tits poured sap over innocent six year olds and ate em raw. Only Ringo stuck to show-biz. Only Ringo kept fairies and gnomes and a dead alligator around for groupies. Only Ringo kept the old Beatle image alive.

And that's essentially why this album, once you forget about the existence of the Beatles, is actually the best Beatles album released since Beatles VI. It ties the complete development of the Beatles" career into a tiny knot as narrated with all the flavors of lifesavers by a humble Ringo. That's right, Ringo as MC through the Enchanted World of the Beatles.

I mean, just check out the Magical Mystery Tour booklet enclosed in which Ringo is sketched as a cartoon character more lovable than Tweetie Bird and the Sgt. Pepper cover where the real stars of the album are shown (Storybook figureslike Humpty Dumpty, the Flying Nun, a man with a bowling ball for a head, Sherlock Holmes, etc.) and the sly references to earlier hits and awkward parodies in the song lyrics as on the White Album.i It's as if Ringo had dropped 5,000 helium-filled, yellow balloons from a helicopter with REMEMBER THE BEATLES printed on them in bold red.

Yet, the real success of this album is that Ringo just don't care. Yeah, the Band is around to help and Nilsson whines a bit and the Beatles overdub their pathetic parts and even David Bromberg squishes a few zits, but Ringo simply ignores the superstars and tap dances or burps or fumbles through a melody. The kid ain't got not respect.

And he admits it, too. On one particularly idiotic song, which I wouldn't even recommend for Mrs. Miller, Ringo breaks down and croaks, "Please believe me, I wish this song was yours instead of mine." Sheesh, he really knoiys he stinks.

On the other hand, overlooking the cute songs, most of thC^ album has the genuine rocket drive/ of such classics as "Lady Madohna" or "Back Off Boogaloo." One sure-fire hit is "Oh My My" which features boogie woogie sax, black female shouting, and a Billy Preston shuffle. Then there's two pretty sagas called "Photograph" arid "Six O'Clock" both dealing with dream images and memories and reflections in mirrors and all that. And best of all, a real whip written by Ringo and published by Richoroony (Mr. Deedledoodle's twin brother) called "Devil Woman" which reveals the absolute truth about Ringo's secret boyish impulses.^ In it, Ringo gasps and grunts:

Early in the morning when the sun is hot, All I do is think about the things you got, But you're like the devil with horns in your head,

The only way I'll get you is to get you in bed.

Then Ringo talks about how he wants to beat her up and is just about to get down to licking blood when the song ends. Truly this is strong evidence that Ringo is no longer a mere teddy bear.

Again, though, this album is more than a collection of funny Ringo songs. Actually, it could be regarded as the Beatles" final statement as documented by Ringo. It contains shades of every Beatles" effort after Rubber Soul. There's the hack artistry and the production number; the innocence and the dirty rock "n* roll. The only difference is that Ringo plays it all short. Masterpieces are a drag, anyway, and no one knows that better than a dummy like Ringo Starr, the world's champion of the bad joke.

Robot A. Hull