Wednesday, September 30, 2026

Ringo Starr 36 Years Old and a Pop Star (1976)





 

Ringo Starr — 36 Years Old and a Pop Star

The drumming ex-Beatle held a press conference in Copenhagen
 By  Arve Strømsether

The Nationen 

October 9, 1976


    Ringo Starr, ex-Beatle, ex-film star, ex-record-company director, but still a singer, was in Copenhagen last week to promote his new LP, Ringo's Rotogravure. After the Beatles broke up in 1970, Ringo has been the one of the four Beatles who has had the hardest time retaining his popularity. As is well known, he has no great singing voice and little talent as a composer, and just being a drummer isn't exactly something people would normally want to hear about.

    He has certainly made a number of successful records, but these have been more characterized by his skillful musician friends than by himself. It was therefore a somewhat exciting prospect to attend the press conference in Copenhagen. Can an old Beatle still attract attention?

    Well, it must be made clear right away that there is nothing in the world like Ringo's small talk. I sat for almost an hour listening to the famous star drummer, who was witty, sarcastic, irritated and cheerful in turn, answering all kinds of questions, whether they concerned the Beatles' past or Ringo's future.

    The first questions were not particularly original, but nevertheless very topical:

Will there be a reunion of pop's most popular and influential group?

"No, why? It would be a catastrophe. When we were together, it was fun, and I sincerely think we added something to music. But today we are all different and occupied with our own things. We are still good friends and meet regularly, but there will be no permanent cooperation. We have played, and will continue to play on each other's records, but that's all."

    Ringo becomes irritated that every time he holds a press conference, he spends 20 minutes explaining something that could be said in three or four words. He sincerely wants the Beatles kept far away and is more interested in his own career.

"With my new LP, I hope I can now make people aware that I can still produce music."

With some help from others, a cheeky journalist interjects.

"Yes, I am first and foremost a drummer, and that is not music, but rhythm. I can play a little piano and three chords on the guitar, and I am dependent on other instrumental help. I like to play drums, sing and write songs. Arranging and production can be left to others."

    How was the new LP made?

    "Very scattered. The songs were mostly ready in the spring, but they were recorded during the spring and summer. This was because the musicians I wanted to use weren't available."

    You don't have any particular problems getting top musicians?

"No. I am very nice [laughs], and I think people understand that. There is a certain prestige in being allowed to play with him. But there is also another reason: Years ago, all the groups were bound together by a sense of togetherness."

    Do you think it will be difficult to get some of them to work with you?

    "I hope not. It depends on whether people have time when I need them. Most of them have their own groups."

Speaking of concerts. During the Beatles' time, there were many concerts, but despite this, there was never a record released of a Beatles concert. In recent years bootleg records have flourished, and some of these contain very good concert recordings. What does Ringo think about something like that?

    "That's something I have nothing to do with."

    Allan Williams and “King-size” Taylor claim they have recordings from Hamburg with good quality?

    "Yes, I heard something about that. They called me and asked whether 200 million dollars would be a suitable price. I haven't heard the tape, but as far as I remember, the recordings weren't good enough for anything to come of it."

    What does EMI have in its possession? Can you or the others control it?

    "What EMI has in its possession, I or the others cannot control. It may be possible that they will release something."

    Do you like the reissues of the old Beatles records?

    "Not so much. I think it is exploitation of the public, all the time finding things that are on other records. The only one that was a little fun was the reissue of all the singles. I don't think I or the others can do anything about it.

    "John and I disagreed about the choice of material on Rock 'n' Roll Music. No one wanted to listen to our suggestions. John offered to make another cover because the one that was used was too bad. But they weren't interested in that either."

    Since Ringo hasn't made much music since the breakup of the Beatles, the Nationen reporter asks about his musical activities.

    "Music is most of my life. I have acted in some films, and although that is fun, I am known as a drummer. I am going to make ten films next year, but whether I can say anything more about that, I don't know."

You have directed a couple of films. Would you like to do it again?

    "No, I don't. It is too demanding and requires too much work in too many different areas. I am not suited to organizational work."

You have also been a furniture designer?

    "That was eight years ago. I made a whole lot of nice furniture in glass and steel, but it was too expensive."

Couldn't you have made your own records?

     "Yes, I suppose I could have, but since the distribution agreement was with Polydor, it didn't make much practical sense."

What do you think of your new LP, Ringo's Rotogravure?

    "It is the best one I have made. There are good songs, good music, and it is a nice product, and I hope other people think so too."

Is this the only way the Beatles will come to play together?

    "It is."

In England, pop artists are treated harshly by the tax authorities. Several of the country's major artists have had to leave the country to avoid the tax pressure. This applies to Ringo Starr as well. Was his move really worth it?

    "I would gladly have stayed, but I simply couldn't afford to pay 53 percent of my income in taxes. Would any of you do it?"

Now you are living in Monte Carlo and seem to be enjoying it?

    "Yes. The only thing that bothers me is that I can't get to England and see my children for a year."

A politically interested journalist asks why Ringo, who has such great influence, couldn't enter politics and try to change the situation.

    "I am a musician, not a politician. I would rather play than talk nonsense, and then I leave. That doesn't mean I don't care about the country. What is worse for Mother England is that both doctors and teachers are fleeing from there. It is no wonder the pound is falling."

The questions rain down on Ringo, jumping from one subject to another. The aforementioned subject concerns The Beatles Tapes, which George Harrison made a legal attempt to stop. Why?

    "It was a rather [topical/current] record, where the interviews were made for the press conference, or one-man show, as you might call it. "[The exact wording here is difficult to read in the scan.]

At another point Ringo is asked about the Rolls-Royce matter:

“For my part, I don't deal with that anymore. Otherwise, I thought about using Rolls-Royce parts as heaters, but the factory didn't think much of that idea.”

One of the last questions concerns Ringo's imitation of Kojak.

Was that an attempt to attract some declining attention?

 "It was an experience every man ought to allow himself at least once in his life. I did it to shock Nancy [Ringo's then companion/fiancĂ©e]. Besides, I did it because I wanted a change. My hair has benefited from it too."

But the reporters have now asked enough. Only one question remains, and it will be given to the person who has not yet asked anything.

A modest woman's voice calls out:

“What about when you are 64, Ringo? Will you still be a musician?”

 “If you'll still feed me, 64,” says Ringo with a crooked smile, and leaves the room with a trail of autograph-hungry journalists following him.

McCartney's Secret with Pop Songs (1991)


 McCartney's Secret with Pop Songs

By Huw Rossiter

Norwich Evening News

October 3, 1991


    It's easy writing hit songs. Just ask Paul McCartney. 

    "The first thing you need is a good title," says the man whose effortless ear for a tune has made him one of the wealthiest names in pop. "Then you need a first verse, a second verse, a chorus, and a middle eight. You repeat your verse, chorus again, probably repeat your chorus twice, and you fade out. That's pretty much it."

     Now we know McCartney's potted masterclass can make millionaires of us all, enabling us to write such classics as "Yesterday" and "Hey Jude." He admits to having broken those rules with partner John Lennon. "Those are tricks to make a pop song, but I love it when I don't stick to them. John and I were pretty good at breaking out of that mould."

     Maybe it was McCartney's mastery of his medium that prompted him to take a new musical direction. His Liverpool Oratorio premiered in the city's Anglican Cathedral in June, and will be released by EMI next month. It is his first classical work written with American composer Carl Davis, performed by the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra, two choirs, and top international soloists, including Dame Kiri Te Kanawa. 

    The oratorio explores McCartney's Liverpudlian childhood and celebrates the themes of peace, love, and marriage. The making of the oratorio is charted in Ghosts of the Past, a 65-minute documentary to be shown on BBC One on Tuesday at 10:50 p.m. The program traces the improbable musical collaboration between McCartney and Davis. 

    McCartney, 49, is the first to admit that composing a full-blown oratorio in eight movements was quite different from penning a four-minute pop song. The oratorio was conceived over a two-year period during which time McCartney also recorded an album and undertook a world tour with his new band, captured in a new film, Get Back. "Why did I do it? Because I was asked, and it was nice to try something big, really big. It was a challenge, but I enjoyed it."

The Official Opening of Apple Studios





 

September 30, 1971 

The watchful eye of the manager



 

UK Tour of 1965


 

Tuesday, September 29, 2026

McCartney Shuts Off 'Non-Beatles' (1966)


 McCartney Shuts Off 'Non-Beatles'

By Hunter Davies

The London Sunday Times

September 28, 1966


    Paul McCartney was in his new mansion in St. John's Wood. He lives alone. A Mr. and Mrs. Kelly look after him. Nothing so formal as a housekeeper and butler. Their job, he says, is just to fit in. 

    The house has a huge wall and an electrically operated black door to keep out non-Beatle life. Inside, there is some carefully chosen elderly furniture. Nothing flashy or even expensive-looking. The dining room table was covered with a white lace tablecloth, very working-class posh.

     McCartney, along with John Lennon, is the author of a song called "Eleanor Rigby." No pop song of the moment has better words or music. 

    "I was sitting at the piano and I thought of it, just like Jimmy Durante. The first few bars just came to me, and I got this name in my head: Daisy Hawkins picking up the rice in a church where a wedding has been. I don't know why.

     "I can hear the whole song in one chord. In fact, I think you can hear a whole song in one note if you listen hard enough. But nobody ever listens hard enough. Okay, so that's the Joan of Arc bit. I couldn't think of much more, so I put it away for a day. Then the name Father McCartney came to me, and all the lonely people. But I thought people would think it was supposed to be my dad sitting knitting his socks. Dad's a happy lad, so I went through the telephone book, and I got the name, Mackenzie.

     "I was in Bristol when I decided Daisy Hawkins wasn't a good name. I walked round looking at the shops, and I saw the name Rigby. You got that? Quick pan to Bristol. I can just see this all as a Hollywood musical. 

    "Then I took it down to John's house in Weybridge, we sat around laughing, got stoned, and finished it off. I thought of the backing, but it was George Martin who finished it off. I just go bash bash on the piano. He knows what I mean. 

    "All our songs come out of our imagination. There never was an Eleanor Rigby. One of us might think of a song completely, and the other just adds a bit, or we might write alternate lines. We never argue. If one of us says he doesn't like a bit, the other agrees. It just doesn't matter that much. I care about being a songwriter, but I don't care passionately about each song. 

    "'Eleanor' is a big development as a composition, but that doesn't mean 'Yellow Submarine' is bad. It was written as a commercial song, a kids' song. People have said, "'Yellow Submarine?' 'What's the significance? What's behind it?' Nothing. Kids get it straight away. Kids have got it. It's only later they get messed up.

     "I tried once to write a song under another name just to see if it was the Lennon-McCartney bit that sold our songs. I called myself Bernard Webb. I was a student in Paris and very unavailable for interviews. The song was "Woman" for Peter and Gordon. They made it a big hit. Then it came out it was me. I realized that when I saw a banner at a concert saying 'Long Live Bernard Webb.'

     "We need a properly controlled experiment to find out how much our names really mean now, but I can't be bothered. I can't really play the piano or read or write music. I've tried three times in my life to learn, but never kept it up for more than three weeks. The last bloke I went to was great. I'm sure he could teach me a lot. I might go back to him. It's just the notation, the way you write down notes. It doesn't look like music to me. 

    "John's now trying acting again, and George has got his passion for the sitar, and all the Indian stuff. He's lucky, like somebody's luck who's got religion. I'm just looking for something I enjoy doing. There's no hurry. I have the time and the money. 

    "People think we are not conceited, but we are. If you ask me if I wrote a good or bad song, I'd be thick to say bad, wouldn't I? It's true we're lucky, but we got where we are because of what we did.

     "The girls waiting outside-I don't despise them. I don't think fans are humiliating themselves. I queued up at the Liverpool Empire for Wee Willie Harris's autograph. I don't think I was being stupid. 

    "I can go out and around more than people think without being recognized. People never really believe it's you. They don't really expect to see you in the street, so you can get away with it.

    "I think we can go on as the Beatles for as long as we want to. Writing songs, making records, we're still developing. I've no ambitions-- just to enjoy myself. We've had all the ego bit, all about wanting to be remembered. We couldn't do any better than we've already done, could we?"

Farewell to India for now




 September 29, 1966 

When the Rackets Move In (1971)

 



When the Rackets Move In

By Fred Sparks

The San Francisco Examiner

September 28, 1971


    One day early this summer, Ringo Starr walked into a music shop in London and asked for the Beatles' album Live at Shea. Recognizing Ringo, the sales clerk asked, "How come you're buying one of your own albums?" Ringo replied, "Because it's not my album. I never heard it."

     When the Beatles appeared at Shea long ago, the concert was illegally recorded, and a bootleg record was made and sold. The Beatles got zero.

     Another currently best-selling bootleg original is Bob Dylan's Great White Wonder, made from tapes stolen from his home in Woodstock, New York. 

    Stores around the world are selling copies of popular tapes, cassettes, and records, costing rock musicians and record companies in the U.S. alone an estimated $100 million annually in lost royalties and sales. 

    New York's assistant district attorney Roy Colts Sr. showed me perfect counterfeits of John Lennon's Plastic Ono Band and the rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar seized in raids on 14 Manhattan stores, some of them "reliable" retail outfits. One of the biggest U.S. bootleg operations is in New Jersey and is dominated, according to my police sources, by former members of the mafia family headed by Joseph Colombo Sr., who was gunned down at a New York rally early in July.

     The underworld hard sell is occasionally used. A New Jersey syndicate salesman called on a Lower Manhattan music store proprietor and offered him bootlegged Jesus Christ Superstar albums. "Okay, I'll take 1000," said the merchant. "But we've got you down for 2000," said the salesman, his voice hard. The proprietor snapped, "The hell with you! I won't take any." The thug pushed the merchant into a small bathroom in the rear, knocked him down, and kicked him brutally. Then he shoved his head in the toilet bowl, face down, and almost drowned him. 

    The former Beatles can afford to lose a few dollars to a bootlegger. They've all become multimillionaires in the last decade, the Rock Decade. Just 10 years ago, on November 9, 1961, in a poorly lit club in Liverpool called the Cavern, Brian Epstein, who ran the record department of his family's department store, discovered the Beatles playing their brains out. 

    Later, Epstein recalled, "There was quite clearly enormous excitement. They seemed to give off some sort of personal magnetism. I was fascinated." Brian Epstein signed up as the Beatles' manager. A few months later, he got Parlophone in London to let them record "Love Me Do" with "P.S. I Love You" on the flip side; the record went up the chart like a moon rocket, and the money flooded in. 

    When the Beatles and rock first revolutionized the music business, small record companies mushroomed in England and America, needing only one hit to make big money. They gave these jockeys cash to play the records -- Payola.

     One DJ told investigators that though his salary was $850 a month, his rent was $400. Furthermore, he ran two fancy cars. "How is that possible?" He was asked. The DJ replied, "In my business, the salary is unimportant. Many disc jockeys pay the stations for the privilege of working there. Besides my $ 850-a-month salary, I receive checks each month from 12 record companies totaling about $2,000."

     Payola was not then illegal; it is now. But Federal Communications Commission investigators say payola is more widespread now than before, though seldom in cash. Curry Grant, a Los Angeles record promoter, told the FCC that gifts to DJs include food, clothing, auto paint jobs, and crates of records they could sell. 

    In San Diego, a disc jockey was invited by a record company to a party in a hotel suite; he was told to come without his wife. When he arrived, the DJ was given cocktails, hors d'oeuvres, and a stunning blonde. 

    England is the same. Scotland Yard is now investigating a sex for plugs system. The Yard moved after a newspaper exposed an attractive female recording artist as the operator of a call girl ring on behalf of a record company. It was alleged this girl supplied willing young ladies to BBC producers and executives in return for airtime. Not long ago, according to printed reports, two men from the BBC spent the night with two hookers, but still did not play the record requested. A week later, they called for a return engagement. The madam told the girls involved to be straight on the line with them.  "They'll either play the record, or there'll be no more scenes coming their way."

     Besides probing payola, Scotland Yard detectives, headed by Detective Chief Superintendent Richard Booker, are checking 350 record shops to see if pop charts are rigged. Britain's leading music journal, Melody Maker, said there are a lot of unscrupulous men in the pop business. 

    Some people are reaping rich rewards by getting in the charts unfairly. I asked a U.S. record company executive if American hit charts are rigged. "Well, certainly people are trying to rig them," he said. "There are certain retail outlets that are called each week by the charts as to what their bestsellers are. Some of the record companies' representatives around the country go into stores and say, 'Look, when they call you, report our product. Here's 25 free albums, 50 free singles.'"

     "If you get somebody who's a little shady, you get reported. They have to use judgment, though. It's got to be a record that's selling, if not selling well enough to be reported as a bestseller."

     While only a small percentage walk a snaky line, I'm convinced the pirates and rock have easy pickings. Davy Jones of the now disbanded Monkees once had four different managers and agents. One day, Jones showed his contract to a lawyer. After reading them, the attorney shook his head, whistled, and said, "Mr. Jones, according to these papers, your representatives have a right to collect 120% of your earnings."

     The Monkees made millions for two years. Their TV show got top ratings. The money rolled in. Now broke in London, Davy sighs. "I haven't been exactly starving, although the icebox has been empty a few times. I was sold down the river. I was too busy performing and let other people handle my affairs. They helped themselves."

     Grace Slick of the Jefferson Airplane is another case in point. "We've made millions of dollars," Miss Slick told a writer, "but we're terrible about business. We have no idea how much money has been taken from us by managers, and sensitive advisers and crooks."

     Then there's Noel Redding, who was with the Jimi Hendrix Experience. Redding recently said, "We were really earning big money, or so we thought. For a one-night stand at Madison Square Garden, we were told we earned $105,000, but I never had a penny of it. I've already sold my Rolls Royce, and at the moment, I'm earning $12 a night working occasionally in pubs."

     Even the Beatles have management problems. Earlier this year, after examining the Beatles' books, London's High Court Justice Stamp said one manager had taken more than 1.2 million dollars in excess of commissions. 

    In Nobodies, a Greenwich Village bar where rock musicians hang out, I was told that the most outrageous swindles take place when groups are on the road. A rock veteran described a typical situation. One night when a group was playing a Midwestern city, he said the local promoter and the group's road manager handled things at the box office. The gross came up to about $100,000, of which the group was supposed to get 40% or $40,000. These two men each put up $10,000 apiece in their pockets and told the group the gross was $80,000. The musicians were cheated out of $8,000. They got $32,000 instead of $40,000. 

    There may have been violent disputes over money during concert tours in Melbourne this summer. When Britain's Manford Mann group was touring Australia, a couple of unknown men broke into tour manager Bob Foster's hotel room and gave him a terrible beating. His life was threatened, and the tour was canceled. Back in London, the group's general manager, David Joseph, told the press there were suggestions that Foster had stolen a couple of $1,000 notes. That's all rubbish, of course. 

    When Epstein made his historic visit to the Cavern Club, each Beatle was making $20 a week. Times have changed. A couple of years ago, George Harrison received a $226,400 royalty check. He slipped it into a drawer in his bedroom. Six months later, reaching for a handkerchief, George found the check. He had forgotten all about that $226,400.

I never noticed...


 

As much as I have watched Yellow Submarine and looked at photos from the Beatles cameo at the end of the film, I never noticed that Ringo is wearing the pinstriped stage suit from the 1966 tour.  

Sleepy Travelers


 

On their way from New York City to Miami, Florida