The last time Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr released albums within weeks of each other it was in 1978, when Wings were one of the biggest bands in the world and Ringo was deep into disco. Some 34 years later, chart success is still likely for Paul McCartney—his fame is too great, as is his hunger to have his new wares heard—but Ringo has long fallen into a happy nice of his own, appealing to lifelong Beatles fans of any age. Ringo is in a state of perpetual nostalgia, reliving the glory days of the Fab Four and wishing peace & love for all, but his rose-colored glasses are not vintage, they’re expensive and modern, bearing all the hallmarks of the year they were minted. So, Ringo’s gleaming sentimentality on Ringo 2012 is not markedly different than it was on 2010’s Y Not or 2008’s Liverpool 8 (and so on and so forth), but such familiarity is neither a blessing or a curse: Ringo’s happy to be doing what he’s doing and that good can be infectious, although the level of infection depends entirely on your tolerance for Starr’s predictable good cheer. McCartney is also trading in nostalgia on Kisses On The Bottom, a collection of prewar standards that the Beatle loves so much he sometimes own the copyrights. Ringo may have beat him to the punch, breaking free of the Beatles by recording a bunch of songs for his mum in 1970, but Paul is a bit classier and clever about the whole thing, hiring Diana Krall’s band and vocal producer Tommy LiPuma to give him a bit of intimate swing. McCartney’s voice isn’t quite as nimble as it used to be nor as it needs to be for some of these songs but he, as always, powers through by virtue of his charm. His dexterity with sentimentality finds a proper showcase here and by choosing a loving faithfulness over reinvention Paul guarantees that Kisses On The Bottom is sweet, pleasant and ever so slightly slight.