O.C. POP MUSIC REVIEW : Retro Ringo

Back during 1964’s first flush of FabFourdom, Ringo Starr was asked what he thought the future held. Vying with George Harrison for the title of “pragmatic Beatle,” Starr told interviewers he expected the fuss all would blow over shortly and that he had laid plans to run a beauty salon.

Some things just don’t work out quite the way you plan them, though. Instead, Starr wound up on the Pacific Amphitheatre stage Sunday in a show sponsored by hair-care giant Alberto VO-5. Joined by a veritable cut-out bin of ‘70s-era rockers, the singing drummer hosted an amiable evening of retro-rock.

As during his 1989 All Starr tour, he was more than democratic in sharing the spotlight with his band, which this time out includes Nils Lofgren, Todd Rundgren, Dave Edmunds, Timothy B. Schmidt, Burton Cummings, Joe Walsh, multi-instrumentalist Tim Cappello and Starr’s son Zak Starkey on drums. Most of these folks might have trouble filling the Coach House on their own, but under Starr’s glow they largely proved still capable big-venue (albeit half-empty venue) performers.

With the Beatles, Starr was a wonderful, song-serving drummer--giving each song exactly what it needed, without any ego flashes--but his vocals often were marginal, a musical counterpart to the homely looks his fans adored. In concert, though, his vocals could be so off-register that they had to be over-dubbed for the 1966 Shea Stadium concert TV special.

His singing Sunday was on-key and engaging, if not exactly inspiring, as he tackled 10 songs. He opened with the John Lennon-penned “I’m the Greatest” from his strongest album, 1973’s “Ringo,” which also yielded “Photograph” and “You’re Sixteen” later in the evening. He delved into his current “Time Takes Time” album for the forgettable “Don’t Go Where the Road Don’t Go” and the decidedly Beatlesque “Weight of the World.”

The actual Beatle songs included their Anglicized versions of the Shirelles’ “Boys” and Buck Owens’ “Act Naturally,” and sing-alongs of “Yellow Submarine” and “A Little Help From My Friends,” which closed the evening on an uplifting, Summer-of-Love note.

Ringo’s stage moves often seemed awkward and forced, reminding us just a bit of Richard Nixon’s, but that didn’t hurt Starr’s rapport with his fans. He approached the proceedings with an appropriate sense of frivolity--announcing “I hope you came to have fun, because we did”--and self-effacing humor. Announcing one of the songs from his current disc, he said, “I’d like to thank those 10 people who bought the album.”

The guitar-heavy lineup did a capable, sometimes exuberant job of backing Starr, and having a band full of singers made for some lush backup harmonies. When he wasn’t singing, Starr either backed the others on drums--doubling with son Zak, who proved to be an excellent drummer--or was absent from the stage.

Except for Rundgren, who pulled out such obscurities as his 1972 “Black Maria,” the performers stuck chiefly to their hits. Cummings reached back to his Guess Who days with “No Time” and “American Woman,” while Schmidt’s high, pure voice was featured on his Eagles’ tune “I Can’t Tell You Why” and a Poco tune. Lofgren’s distinctive harmonic-laden guitar playing was heard several times; he included his current remake of the 1965 Beau Brummels hit “Just a Little.” Edmunds outings on “Girls Talk” and “I Hear You Knocking” seemed particularly propulsive.

The only musical debit was self-declared vice presidential candidate Joe Walsh, perhaps the only person who could make Dan Quayle seem like an intelligent choice. As he has on every possible occasion since 1973, Walsh trotted out his inevitable, interminable “Rocky Mountain Way,” one of the most insipid, plodding rockers extant. He also sang an awfully awry version of the Eagles’ “Desperado” and a new song, “Vote for Me,” on which he borrows huge chunks of Lennon’s “Give Peace a Chance” rap, while suggesting they need more beer on Air Force One.

The show was opened by the Bandaloo Doctors, a quartet featuring rock vets Dallas Taylor on drums and Bonnie Sheridan (better known as Bonnie Bramlett during her ‘70s heyday with Delaney and Bonnie) on vocals. Outside of her overwrought but sometimes passionate vocals, it was difficult to figure what such a rambling, unfocused outfit was doing on a professional stage.