Ronnie Spector, she of Ronettes/"Be My Baby" fame, is here again lookin' for a new "baby", baby. If all that sounds like another Hollywood summer remake, it's not too far off. Ronnie's done the 1971 reunion with all four broken-up Beatles, the 1976 Billy Joel/Bruce Springsteen treatment, something with Eddie Money, and even a Joey Ramone-guesting 1999 EP on Kill Rock Stars. It never gets even half as good as the great old days, depending of course on your feelings re: Eddie Money.
One cash-in celebritython leads to another. The Last of the Rock Stars carts in Keith Richards, Patti Smith and (again) the late Ramone, backing Spector on a reheated run-through of Johnny Thunders' "You Can't Put Your Arms Round a Memory", which was also on the 1999 EP. What's new includes Yeah Yeah Yeahs' Nick Zinner on jitter-by-numbers rocker "Hey Sah Lo Ney", the Raveonettes helping out on "Ode to L.A." (which, yeah, also appears-- with Ronnie-- on the Ravers' '05 Pretty in Black), and Ronnie and Keith do campy lover's chit-chat on Ike Turner's "Work Out Fine" ("You do the work, baby!" Keith hams). Just in case you were wondering what Spector has in mind, Loretta Lynn's career-resuscitating backers the Greenhornes are featured on a pair of tracks, one of which appeared with Holly Golightly in the Ronnie role on the 'Hornes' own 2005 Sewed Soles.
If The Last of the Rock Stars shows anything other than that the former Mrs. Spector has a laughably high opinion of herself, it's that she remains primarily a singles artist. The one you want is the Amy Rigby-penned "All I Want", a bouncy, believable grown-up teenage symphony about just wanting "something to show me that you care/ Whether I live or die". Opener "Never Gonna Be Your Baby" at least boasts a big, self-referential hook, even if the wannabe-tough-guy guitars and lifelong-smoker-voiced "wet thoughts of you" mature pr0n come-ons diminish what suits call "replay value".
Despite all the guests, The Last of the Rock Stars also suffers from a weird confusion about where ex-hubby Phil's "Wall of Sound" meets the here/now. Listeners who can't get past Morrissey's sessionmen should hear the stiff "Girl From the Ghetto", which also shares some of that miserabilist's caustic venom: "I hope your cell is filled with magazines/ And on every one is a picture of me," Spector expectorates. Any question who that gun is pointed at?
