If by 1969 there is a strong sense of The Beatles career drawing to a close, borne out by their decision to split in April 1970, then with the Fabs’ heavyweight contemporaries the Rolling Stones, The Kinks and The Who comes indication a second chapter of their careers is about to begin.
Having seen founder member and rhythm guitarist Brian Jones leave the group earlier in the year, only to for him to drown in a swimming pool a few weeks later, the Rolling Stones had sworn in young guitar virtuoso Mick Taylor in returning them to a quintet, their creative momentum barely missing a beat as the monumental ‘Let It Bleed‘ album was about to come forth.
The Who, meanwhile, ended an 18-month recording hiatus with groundbreaking double-set ‘Tommy,’ an ambitious effort by guitarist/composer Pete Townshend to sustain a continuous narrative in the form of a ‘rock opera’ – the storyline increasing in dramatic effect when a large segment of the piece was incorporated into an already dynamic stage act.
As for The Kinks, page one of act two looked to be one filled with quandary and confusion. In April 1969 original bass player Pete Quaife had quit, necessitating a recall of such for John Dalton, who had stepped in when Quaife recovered from injuries sustained in a 1966 car crash.
But this time there would be no return – his exit precipitated by weariness at the sibling antagonism between Kinks front man Ray Davies and younger brother/lead guitarist Dave, the line-up completed by taciturn drummer Mick Avory.
The departure of Quaife came five months after the autumn 1968 release of ‘The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society‘ an album of such breathtaking poignancy and wit, it confirmed chief-Kink Ray as the most original songwriting talent in the rock medium. His reputation had been established through a series of exemplary hit singles beginning in 1964 with ‘You Really Got Me‘ a song featuring the angriest guitar sound popular music had so far produced. This was the forte of Dave Davies whose expressive playing decorated songs in which Ray scrutinised Swinging London and everyday Londoners, often with sharp-eyed satirism, as the midpoint of the decade came and went.
From the North London enclave of Muswell Hill Ray depicted a city of sullen streets, silly fashions and serene sunsets, that his hometown should inform many an observation a consequence of The Kinks receiving a ban from performing in North America for ‘unprofessional conduct’ on their 1965 US tour, the embargo into its third year when ‘Village Green‘ appeared on November 22, 1968. Arriving on the same day as The Beatles self-titled double album and a fortnight before ‘Beggars Banquet‘ despite its magnificence the sixth studio album from The Kinks went largely ignored.
Where The Beatles referenced ‘revolution’ and the Stones championed the cause for street fighting men, Davies evoked a quieter world, lamenting how the passage of time was consigning village greens, steam trains, moments spent looking at pictures from long ago family holidays (no matter what emotions they conjured), to the distant past; a glorious exercise in bittersweet nostalgia, the few who bought ‘Village Green‘ were rightly enthralled, the rest of the record buying public consumed mostly with protest music and power-trios.
On the back of changing their bass player, having released a masterpiece that virtually nobody heard and the constant to and fro sniping between the Davies brothers, The Kinks were moving with a degree of uncertainty through 1969. But then Ray was approached by Granada TV, a UK commercial channel, in regard to writing songs for a drama based on the life of a London family and how their lives had been affected by major events to impact on Great Britain during the first two-thirds of the 20th century.
In conjunction with the producer, playwright Julian Mitchell, Davies wrote a script and energized by the project Ray went away and composed a dozen songs to guide the narrative which The Kinks immediately set about recording. Yet by the time they completed sessions for what was, in essence, the soundtrack, Granada had begun to have doubts about the feasibility of such an ambitious undertaking and a few weeks later, citing spiraling production costs, pulled the plug – the remnants of the exercise left as the sleeve notes and twelve tracks of another magnificent Kinks album, this one entitled ‘ARTHUR – OR THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE’ (October 1969).
Given the disappointment within The Kinks camp at the work not reaching its fully-realised status, there is no shortage of irony in Ray drawing the central character of ‘Arthur’ as a disillusioned, somewhat downtrodden figure who the English class system has absorbed but done no favours.
‘I wanted to centre the whole story around an ordinary man like myself,‘ explained Ray Davies when reflecting on this superbly nuanced work many years later, ‘who had been a small cog in the British Empire and had watched it pass him by.’
But to give the story close personal resonance Ray took characteristics and experiences from the life of brother-in-law Arthur, the husband of his sister Rosie, Davies once lamenting, ‘Arthur was one of those men for whom nothing quite worked out.’
Consisting of a song-cycle that is routinely excellent and at times devastatingly brilliant, through the twists, turns, attitudes and aspirations that shape the life of Arthur and his family, Ray loads many of his observations with sting and sarcasm – spite, perhaps not too strong a word for the hypocrisy or meek compliance he sees when looking up and down the class structure.
The scene is set with exhilarating opening cut ‘Victoria,’ a satirical celebration of British imperialism – the 20th century beginning with a long-serving monarch on the throne, reigning over an empire on which the sun never sets, most of her subjects happy in their poverty:
‘I was born lucky me/In a land that I love/Though I am poor/I am free/When I grow I shall fight/For this land I will die/Let her sun never set.’
The permanent arrival of Dalton is made apparent by a harder edge to the bass sound, this rousing, propulsive track has been fattened up with a blaring brass section by the time Ray offers one last nugget of tongue-in-cheek deference: ‘From the West to the East/From the rich to the poor/Victoria loved them all.’
Despite its cheery veneer Ray has already begun exposing the divisions and differences within society (‘Stately homes for the Lords’), yet to his credit never at any point does he attach simplistic labels (rich/bad – poor/good), preferring instead to give both the have and have nots their comeuppance.
Beginning with precise, military-style drumming from the ever-excellent Avory, in ‘Yes Sir, No Sir’ a piece with several intriguing changes of pace, Ray sticks it to the Toffs for their sense of entitlement and superiority. Initially they are condescending to their ‘inferiors’ (‘But let them know they are fighting for their homes/Just be sure that they’re contributing their all,’), but when he adopts the affected accent of one from the Officer Class, Ray sounds downright callous when he sings:
‘Give the scum a gun and make the bugger fight/And be sure to have deserters shot on sight/If he dies we’ll send a medal to his wife.’
Those at the top are being mocked, but the subtext is clear – more fool the rank and file for letting them get away with it.
With ‘Some Mother’s Son‘ war has arrived, World War One evoked in the line ‘Two soldiers fighting in a trench‘ – huge, clashing armies reduced to just two protagonists in a haunting, mournful song. From the story synopsis written by Mitchell for the album sleeve, we know Arthur lost a brother killed at the battle of the Somme, the poignancy of the words are inspired by the Great War but applicable to any conflict – and while the trilling harpsichord is reminiscent of ‘Sgt. Pepper‘ era Beatles, lyrically (‘Some Mother’s Son lies in a field/Someone has killed some mother’s son today‘) it could not be further removed.
References to battles being fought in lands beyond Blighty are made at the start of the upbeat ‘Drivin‘ – a jaunty, whimsical song in which the troubles of the world can be forgotten by heading for the countryside, (‘It seems like all the world is fighting/They’re even talking of a war/Let all the Russians and the Chinese and the Spanish do the fighting/the sun is shining we’re going drivin‘.)
At times reminiscent of ‘Picture Book‘ from ‘Village Green‘ by alluding to the Spanish Civil War and talk of a war Ray sets this episode in the late-30s, narrator Arthur is not only keen to escape every day worries (‘And all the debt collectors/Rent collectors/Will be behind us/They’ll never find us‘) – but for the first time the story comes close to home, Arthur and his family heading out ‘Passed Barnet Church/Up To Potters Bar‘ clear indication they are likely natives of a North London suburb similar to one where the Davies brothers grew up.
‘Brainwashed‘ is a powerful, strident piece performed with an air of menace. It reinforces the notion of bureaucrats being in control and establishing rules ordinary people such as Arthur must live by, but Ray is equally contemptuous at the way the working class allow themselves to be manipulated:
‘All your life they’ve kicked you around and pushed you around/’Till you can’t take no more/To them you’re just a speck of dirt/But you don’t want to get up off the floor.‘
One way of escaping the shackles imposed by oppressive bureaucracy is emigrating to a land of opportunity, one where ‘everyone walks around with a perpetual smile across their face‘ – Arthur finding son Derek has taken the decision to move with his family to ‘Australia,’ the circumstances of which are cleverly described in the tough-rocking song that closes side one.
To begin with is sounds like a breezy melody that perfectly encapsulates the feelings excitement and escapism attached to taking such a step and if it drifts toward a Beach Boys parody when Ray sings, ‘We’ll surf like they do in the USA/We’ll fly down to Sydney for our holiday on sunny Christmas Day,’ he reiterates why it sounds such an attractive proposition in the lines:
‘No hesitates or beats around the bush in Australia/So if you’re young and healthy why not get on a boat and come to Australia.’
The migration of thousands from the British Isles to the Antipodes during the 1950s and 60s – taking advantage of an assisted passage offer from the Australian government, they became known as the ‘Ten Pound Poms’ – this was already an emotive issue for Ray Davies having seen first-hand the sorrow of those left behind when sister Rosie and husband Arthur swopped Muswell Hill for Melbourne ten years earlier, Davies family angst recounted in ‘Rosie Won’t You Please Come Home,’ a stylish, but sombre cut from the 1966 ‘Face To Face‘ album.
Developing into the most forceful rock track they ever recorded, ‘Australia‘ concludes with a three-minute jam in which (Dave) Davies and Avory – augmented by a horn section – provide searing electric guitar lines and crashing drum fills in taking on Townshend and Moon at their own game.
From some quarters has come the suggestion Ray spends much of ‘Arthur‘ sneering at the English working class rather than admiring their stoicism, ‘Shangri-La‘ and ‘She Bought A Hat Like Princess Marina‘ usually presented as evidence. Yet whatever the interpretation there is little disagreement in each being a masterful song – the former a work of authentic genius.
When the album came out toward the end of 1969 what cannot be overlooked is World War Two had been over less than twenty-five years – so for those who had lived through those dark times what was wrong in reaching the end of the 60s with some modest progress to show for their trouble?
This may amount to a TV set and a radio (‘at seven shillings a week‘) but as ‘Shangri-La‘ continues its majestic sweep from Ray, his acoustic guitar and understated horn section to rock ensemble performance of the highest order, a quiet life in suburbia maybe not utopia after all:
‘The little man who gets the train/Got a mortgage hanging over his head/But he’s too scared to complain/’Cos he’s conditioned that way.’
True, Davies makes the point ‘all the houses in the street have got a name/’Cos all the houses in the street they look the same,’ but that is not the fault of those living in them – besides, as Ray also acknowledges, ‘Gone are the lavatories in the back yard.’
Given the year this is rock oratory rather than rock opera. But seeking out a song with more astute social comment from any era is not worth the effort – simply because it has not been recorded.
Indeed, far from being a jibe at the working-class people Ray grew up amongst, ‘She Bought A Hat Like Princess Marina‘ sounds more a clever pastiche of the songs Noel Coward was writing thirty years before.
Built for the most part on a melody nudged along by harpsichord and subtle bass, it harks back to a time when the masses took their fashion cues from minor Royals and high-profile politicians (‘He bought a hat like Anthony Eden‘) they saw on cinema newsreels – opposed to more recent times when clever-dick young rock stars in velvet hunting jackets and target t-shirts cast their influence through the medium of television.
At times it is almost too self-consciously clever for its own good, yet even when a kazoo is introduced during a middle section that sounds like a music hall skit, Ray is still able to mix whimsy with wry comment. Sometimes dismissed as a lightweight piece due to its jovial melodicism, novelty songs as a rule do not contain lines such as:
‘Buddy can you spare me a dime/My wife is getting hungry and the kids are cryin’/This poverty is hurting my pride.’
Into ‘Mr. Churchill Says‘ Davies incorporates famous quotes from Britain’s war time leader, this slowly building rock track moving from defiance in the face of the enemy, (‘Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed to so few/’Cos they have made this British Empire a better place for me and you/And this is their finest hour‘) to the frightening spectre of air raids – ‘Did you hear that plane flying overhead/There’s a house on fire and there’s someone lying dead.’
The music grows more frenetic and confrontational as the violence comes ever nearer – but even in portraying neighborhood destruction, The Kinks never overplay or milk the moment, the song served without anyone showing off.
Piano and harpsichord combine to give ‘Young and Innocent Days‘ its wistful air in what is a lament for times passed, the gist captured in the line, ‘I wish my eyes could see/Everything the way it used to be.’ But if the advancing years are cause for regret here, then ‘Nothing To Say‘ despite boasting a more upbeat melody, is an achingly sad sketch of how Arthur and Derek have reached a point where they have little to talk about, the son alternately irritated and embarrassed by their lack of stimulating conversation:
‘How are those noisy neighbours next door/I’ll have to go soon ‘cos I’m getting bored/Gotta be home early to see a good play/So far Papa, I got nothing to say.’
When Davies wraps up the story in the concluding title track, the distance between them has become geographical as well as emotional, ‘And now we see your children sailing off to the setting sun/To a new horizon where there’s plenty for everyone.’
Ray finds it hard to hide his frustration at Arthur living what he views a compliant life, exploited by those in positions of power, (‘All the way he was overtaken by the people who make the big decisions‘). But as The Kinks turn in one last energetic display of musicianship there comes grudging respect for this ‘plain simple man‘ who, to a large extent has chosen to live an uncomplicated life, ‘Arthur, could be you were right all along, don’t ya know it, hope you know it.’
Indeed, Derek and his family may have upped sticks from Archway to Adelaide and a know-all pop star from Muswell Hill might be asking, ‘How is your life and your Shangri-La and your long lost land of halleluiah‘ but Arthur has reached the autumn of his days content and with little to truly complain about.
On release ‘Arthur‘ was greeted with ecstatic reviews. In England Melody Maker described it as ‘a masterpiece on every level,‘ noted US critic Greil Marcus wrote, ‘Arthur is the best British album of 1969. It shows Pete Townshend still has worlds to conquer and The Beatles have some catching up to do,’ while Rolling Stone magazine made the somewhat inevitable comparison, ‘If ‘Tommy’ is the great rock opera, then ‘Arthur’ is the great rock musical.’
All of which begged an obvious question – if ‘Tommy‘ was such a resounding commercial success for The Who, why did ‘Arthur’ fall completely by the wayside?
Two years of relentless Stateside touring had earned The Who a sizeable following, this while The Kinks were banned from performing in the United States, so their level of recognition was far higher. The songs Ray Davies was writing at this point were perhaps too ‘English’ in theme to connect with a US audience, although that said, if a top placing of 105 on the Billboard album chart was nothing to write home to Muswell Hill about, in the UK ‘Arthur‘ failed to chart at all.
Maybe it came down to something as simple as linguistics and while ‘pinball‘ sounds like a genuine ‘rock’ word, ‘lavatories’ on the other hand does not.
Shortly before ‘Arthur‘ appeared The Kinks received notice their U.S. touring ban had been rescinded, only to find a return to North American stages involved being an opening act for Moonie and his mates. On such occasions Townshend expressed his admiration of The Kinks and their latest LP – and if he with ‘Tommy‘ revealed himself as a true creative visionary, then on ‘Arthur‘ Ray Davies showed he was streets ahead (literally) of anyone as an auteur of daily life, his lap of honour coming two years later with The Kinks delightful ‘Muswell Hillbillies’ album.
‘I remember ‘Arthur’ for what it might have been rather than what it was,’ reflected Ray in 2004, an allusion obviously to the failed attempt in presenting it in the form of a television drama.
Most others, however, treasure it as a brilliantly drawn and performed Kinks album – the absence of images on camera serving to make those created by Ray Davies through the story of ‘Arthur‘ all the more vivid in the minds of us, the listeners.
THE KINKS – ‘ARTHUR OR THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE’ (Released October 10 1969):
Victoria/Yes Sir, No Sir/Some Mother’s Son/Drivin’/Brainwashed/Australia/Shangri-La/Mr. Churchill Says/She Bought a Hat Like Princess Marina/Young and Innocent Days/Nothing to Say/Arthur;
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NEIL SAMBROOK is the author of ‘MONTY’S DOUBLE’ – an acclaimed thriller now available in paperback and as an Amazon Kindle book.