Given how different a rock group can sound from one album to the next – there is only eight months for example between ‘The Notorious Byrd Brothers’ and ‘Sweetheart of the Rodeo’ – but such is the change of style and direction undertaken by The Byrds (in 1968 alone) they appear to be a totally different band.
No less creative from one set of recordings to the next – yet different all the same.
It may therefore be stretching credulity to compare albums made by the same band released ten years apart – the point taken if we were talking about any other group than The Kinks. From album to album bands can change emphasis, purpose, personnel and producer – all of which have a bearing on the next step they take.
But when reflecting on Kinks albums that close the 60s, ‘ARTHUR (Or The Decline and Fall of the British Empire)’ (1969) and 70s, ‘LOW BUDGET’ (1979) there are recurring features.
In between, they might have had a change of bass player, dispensed with a couple of keyboardists and made a series of sometimes baffling, occasionally brilliant albums – yet the two in question were both written and produced by Kinks commander-in-chief Ray Davies.
In view of the passing time you would think all similarity would end there – and to a point it does, but you see my friends (to quote a phrase) once Brother Ray had a theme in mind he would tailor a Kinks album to fit his vision.
At times this led to parts being stronger than the whole; in other words certain songs on albums such as ‘Preservation’ (Acts I & II 1973 & 74) ‘Soap Opera’ and ‘Schoolboys in Disgrace’ (both 1975) are excellent, even if the respective story-lines struggle to hold water.
But on ‘Arthur’ Ray has the clear objective of commenting on the British Class System and while with ‘Low Budget’ the focus is less defined, his preoccupation is where America stood as the 80s loomed.
One is a tour-de-force which sank without trace, the other a belligerent effort that sold by the truckload – God bless The Kinks and their glorious Kontradictions…….
On the journey leading up to the making of ‘Arthur’ The Kinks, beginning with ‘You Really Got Me’ in 1964, had recorded the most brilliantly written run of hit singles ever made – the original line-up of Ray (guitar, keyboards), younger brother Dave (guitar), Pete Quaife (bass) and Mick Avory (drums) making it all sound so elemental as Ray came up with one impossibly-perfect three minute vignette after another.
But close scrutiny of their early years reveal things to be more complex than they looked.
With ‘Something Else’ (1967) The Kinks had also made a great album and would follow it with one lost entirely on the record buying public – ‘lost’ not yet joined by the epithet ‘masterpiece’ when describing ‘The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society’ (1968).
Instead of being feted for ‘Village Green’ (that at very least deserved accolades on par with those afforded The Beatles and Rolling Stones for their respective 1968 albums) it went unnoticed – the disappointment compounded when Quaife, tired of the constant wrangling between Ray and Dave, left the group in early 1969.
With replacement bassist John Dalton on board (Dalton had previously stood in for Quaife while he recovered from a car accident in 1966), Ray Davies put aside the disappearing aspects of English life he had explored on ‘Village Green’ to begin ‘Arthur’ – an all-out exploration of the class system in his native land.
This, however, is not a one-act take on social standings of the late 1960s (Ray had already written the last word on such matters in songs like ‘Dead End Street,’ ‘A Well Respected Man,’ and ‘Mr. Pleasant’).
But assessing late-60s Kinks albums cannot be done without factoring in their ban from touring America – imposed for ‘unprofessional conduct’ during a 1965 US Tour and almost into its fourth year when the ‘Arthur’ recording sessions began.
Groups would go on to be prohibited from hotel chains but only The Kinks could manage to be barred from an entire country – and not just any, it would also have to be the one with the biggest audience for rock music on the planet.
Denied access to the American market, Ray turned his attention inward and began holding up ‘Swinging London’ to scrutiny, which he found ripe (‘Dedicated Follower of Fashion’) for satire. By the time of hitting upon the idea for ‘Arthur’ he was the undisputed musical master of explaining the English, so in many ways a personal take on class history and structure was a logical step – no surprise either he should do it so astutely.
For the most part this is a superb piece of cultural comment and bearing in mind the year, rock oratory rather than opera.
The narrative – of which Arthur will become the central figure – begins at the dawn of the 20th Century with Queen Victoria on the throne, the brilliant ‘Victoria’ serving as an overture. Despite the twanging bass and ringing guitars this is no misty-eyed celebration of a golden era, Ray quick to recognize the contradictions and conflicts that exist between the classes.
The distinctions are apparent from the start – ‘stately homes for the Lords’ set against an outlook for many of ‘when I grow I shall fight, for this land I will die.’ To his credit Davies avoids attaching simple labels (rich-bad, poor-good) seeing flaws when looking in both directions.
In the next two songs ‘Yes Sir, No Sir’ and ‘Some Mother’s Son’, the ruling class are mocked unmercifully, Ray delivering the lines, ‘Give the scum a gun and make the bugger fight’, in blatantly affected tones of the Officer Class, but the subtext is clear – more fool the rank and file for letting them get away with it.
These are well crafted songs, Ray making his point on top of performances that have an unmistakable late-60s feel, the gentle harpsichord on ‘Some Mother’s Son’, reminiscent of Sgt Pepper-era Beatles, even if lyrically, ‘Some Mother’s son lies in a field/Someone has killed some Mother’s son today’, it could not be further removed.
The broad references to battles being fought beyond the shores of Blighty are continued at the start of ‘Drivin’ (‘Let all the Russians and the Chinese and the Spanish do their fighting’) but as this whimsical track unfolds it takes root closer to home. So close in fact that when leaving their troubles behind for a picnic in the country, Arthur and his family will be heading out, ‘Passed Barnet Church, Up to Potters Bar’ – bringing the first indication these people are likely natives of a north London suburb similar to one where the Davies brothers grew up.
‘Brainwashed’ a powerful piece fattened up with a brass section, reinforces the notion of bureaucrats being in control, establishing the codes and conditions ordinary people must live by, who in turn should feel nothing but content with their lot.
In terms of chronology it is surprising ‘Mr. Churchill Says’ (found early on side two) does not come next, Ray incorporating the defiant words of Britain’s war time leader into a slowly building rock track depicting life on the home front – the journey taking a different twist when Arthur is attracted by what is on offer in ‘Australia’.
Becoming one of the many post-war British emigrants – labelled ‘ten-pound Poms’ – who took advantage of an assisted passage offer from the Australian government, Arthur is beguiled by the thought of sunshine on Christmas Day and a land where ‘nobody’s got a chip on their shoulder.’
For Ray this was an emotive issue having seen one of his sisters and her husband (who by now we are coming to identify as Arthur) decamp from Muswell Hill to Melbourne a decade earlier – the sadness felt by those left behind in N10 summed up on ‘Rosie Won’t You Please Come Home’, from the 1966 ‘Face To Face’ album.
The toughest rocking song on ‘Arthur,’ the extended closing segment of ‘Australia’ allows Dave and Mick Avory to cut loose with untypical abandon, duly matching Townshend and Moon for freneticism.
There is a latter-day school of thought that Ray spends much of ‘Arthur’ sneering at the working class rather than giving it credit for stoicism, ‘Shangri-La’ and ‘She’s Bought A Hat Like Princess Marina’ cited as evidence.
But whatever the interpretation there is no doubt these are two great songs, the former a work of authentic genius.
When ‘Arthur’ was released in 1969 it is important to remember World War Two had been over less than twenty five years – and for those who had lived through the struggle what was wrong with reaching the 70s with some modest progress to show for their trouble?
This may amount to a ‘TV set and radio’ even if they came at a cost of ‘seven shillings a week.’ As ‘Shangri-La’ continues its majestic sweep through the prevailing changes, Ray points out, ‘all the houses in the street they look the same,’ although that is not the fault of those living in them – besides, as he also acknowledges, ‘gone are the lavatories in the backyard.’
As a song and group performance ‘Shangri-La’ is matched in rock music history on a handful of occasions – but never once bettered.
Due to arriving the same year and by having a conceptual thread, ‘Arthur’ is often compared to ‘Tommy’. Both thematic works, one shows nobody was working at the same ‘rock opera’ level of imagination as Pete Townshend, but in terms of articulating the vagaries of everyday life, Ray Davies was streets (literally) ahead of the field – his lap of honour after winning the title coming with the magnificent ‘Muswell Hillbillies’ two years later.
As to why ‘Tommy’ was such a resounding commercial success for The Who and ‘Arthur’ barely sold a copy who can say? Could it really be something as simple as ‘pinball’ being a rock ‘n’ roll sounding word, while ‘lavatory’ was not.
Indeed, far from being a jibe at the working class adults Ray grew up around, ‘She’s Bought A Hat Like Princess Marina’, sounds more a clever pastiche of the songs Noel Coward was writing forty years before.
True, the harpsichord and kazoo used on the track give it a novelty feel, but there was a time when ordinary people took their fashion cues from minor royals and politicians (‘He bought a hat like Anthony Eden’s’) they saw on cinema newsreels – a time before they were influenced by clever-dick rock stars in velvet hunting jackets and target t-shirts on television.
In the end it all boils down to what becomes of this ‘plain simple man’ – the closing track bearing his name leaving us to draw our own conclusions.
Arthur may agree with the narrator when he opines ‘the world’s gone and passed you by’ but for all the talk of ‘being overtaken by the people who make the big decisions’, he is living under the sunshine in a land ‘where there’s plenty for everyone’ – and who cares if its closer to Adelaide than Archway, Arthur is liked, understood and loved by his family.
Ten years later Ray Davies was living a form of ex-pat life, holed up in Manhattan writing songs for the next Kinks album. The ban on touring America long since lifted (it was actually rescinded shortly after ‘Arthur’ came out) constant gigging in the US had seen The Kinks build the sizeable following they had been denied in the 60s – a successful album all that was required to cement their renaissance.
It deserved to happen (and almost did) with the impressive ‘Misfits’ (1978), the title track and ‘A Rock ‘n’ Roll Fantasy’ the two best Kinks songs of the era.
Held up as standard bearers by the burgeoning punk scene, (escaping relatively unscathed as a new generation of bands and music journalists heaped scorn on their contemporaries) having their early catalogue mined by emerging acts such as Van Halen, The Jam and The Pretenders, only added to The Kinks kudos.
Noting the esteem in which they were held, Ray set about writing a Kinks album for the times and on that score he succeeded – unfortunately for a great part of it they sound like any number of the Kinks-copyists around at the time, force rather than finesse the order of the day.
This is not to say ‘Low Budget’ is a complete dud – although in parts it does sound horribly ham-fisted. It could easily have been called ‘give the people what they want’ (a title saved for their next effort which treads a similar path with slightly better songs) such are the musical hooks and lyrical themes Ray cooks up in order to ingratiate the record with American radio stations.
Prior to release few would have begrudged The Kinks a big hit with their seventeenth studio album – and while it quickly became their biggest-selling US LP (stopping just short of the top ten, but on the charts for months), far more than contrived power pop was expected from a writer who set the standard for how much wit and wisdom could be contained in a three minute song.
Opening cut ‘Attitude’ is full of the core bluster heard throughout, The Kinks out to show they can rock as hard as any Johnny come lately act who had recently captured the hearts of young record buyers.
Lines like ‘The 80s are here, I know ‘cos I’m looking right at them, but you’re still waiting for the 60s to happen,’ are valid enough, although when he yaps ‘you talk like a docker but you act like a queer, you drink champagne then complain it’s too dear,’ Ray sounds like a man trying too hard to be fashionably provocative.
As the upbeat tracks on ‘Low Budget’ go ‘Attitude’ (complete with ‘Who Are You’ sounding harmonies) just edges out ‘Pressure’ as the pick.
‘Misery’ and ‘Low Budget’ while not without a degree of charm, sound manufactured to the extent of being purposely written filler – the title track turning the Davies brothers into caricatures of those once in thrall to them, Dave laying down a Joe Walsh riff while Ray does an Ian Dury impersonation in delivering the lyric.
The excellent piano work running through ‘Catch Me Now I’m Falling‘ deserves better than the re-cycled ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash,’ guitar licks Dave offers, the ‘Captain America‘ hero of the piece now out of favour in a land he had frequently saved. The track has just enough wry humour to pass muster, which is more than can be said for (Wish I Could Fly Like) ‘Superman‘ – arguably the least original song in The Kinks entire repertoire.
While the drum and keyboard programming was innovation for a Kinks album, the maligned figure in the lyrics longing to be a superhero is drawn in a heavy-handed way. As the Rolling Stones (‘Miss You‘) and Rod Stewart (‘Do Ya Think I’m Sexy‘) had both scored big with disco-themed hits in the previous twelve months, it cannot be coincidence Ray would try his hand at a needs-must nightclub number – and to think it was The Kinks who once blazed trails for others to follow.
The pedestrian blues shuffle that is ‘Gallon Of Gas’ (note: not a litre of petrol) at least has a topical lyric, the 1979 revolution in Iran starting a worldwide oil crisis, with the US particularly hit by shortages that sent fuel prices through the roof. The protagonist of the song is now able to afford a Cadillac, but not the gasoline required to take it for a spin. Ultimately, however, this is lightweight whimsy rather than the astute irony Ray Davies was renowned for.
If much of the material on ‘Low Budget’ is either bland or over-wrought then ‘A Little Bit of Emotion,’ is simply frustrating. The blend of acoustic and electric guitar that served the song ‘Misfits’ so well is again in evidence, the well-crafted verses unfortunately undercut by Ray singing the chorus in a gauche-Cockney accent, the reason for which is unclear.
Was it to distinguish The Kinks from all the other AOR schlock around at the time? Or a reminder that with similar melodies on beautiful songs like ‘Waterloo Sunset’ and ‘Days’ they had once been the golden boys of London pop?
When The Kinks began a sellout US Tour in the autumn of 1979 neither of these past perfections featured in the set-list – that most nights contained a large chunk of ‘Low Budget’.
In commercial terms The Kinks began the next decade in far better shape than when the 70s dawned. The mixed bag of albums that followed ‘Low Budget’ returned decent sales figures (in the US at least) and took them through to the mid-80s – when an easing of their touring schedule saw chart positions return to negligible levels.
As non-concept Kinks albums became a concept in themselves, Ray chose to forsake the notion of grand schemes in favour of simplified soft-rock offerings that could be shouted along with at the back of arenas The Kinks had so long resisted playing.
Occasionally a song would come along infused with the deft cinematic quality of his best work, of which none was more nuanced or compelling than ‘Arthur’ – that as a study of class has come to resemble the excellent Noel Coward film ‘This Happy Breed’ making the amusing, but obvious ‘Low Budget’ seem like ‘Carry On Kinks’ in comparison.
This article was first published on 11/4/2019.
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NEIL SAMBROOK is the author of ‘MONTY’S DOUBLE‘ – an acclaimed thriller now available as an Amazon Kindle Book.