#0097: Something Else By The Kinks - The Kinks

It is the unremarkable nature of each mundane complaint combined with their pinpoint specificity that makes these lyrics stand out.  That is, if you can hear them.  On David Watts, even amid the driving, punky beat foreshadowing Stiff Little Fingers by over a decade, I am frustrated by the vocal mix.  But it's the 60s.  Neither the sky nor the legendary "this guy" has been kissed yet so let's cut the engineer a break in this prelude to the mondegreen fields of modern lyrics.

It becomes increasingly hard to do that as each succeeding track leaves the vocal too far back in the mix and particularly on No Return there's a buzzing up front that's certainly unpleasant in the cans.  Early speakers would have been more forgiving as indeed would a basic, contemporary phone.

Through classics like Death Of A Clown, Two Sisters and Harry Rag we are taken along these short-cuts thru the gardens of Ray's mind.  It's like reading a collection of short stories.  None of the songs is much over 3 minutes and each has its own distinct tune, its own distinct story to tell with the minimum of fuss, the minimum of words.

Tin Soldier Man is a bouncy little number I'd like to hear a treatment of in a 60s set.  For all I know it's a classic people would expect to hear but it feels to me like it might be a surprise for any fans of either the Kinks or the late 60s.

Situation Vacant would stand up anywhere today.  It's got a steady, urgent groove halfway between that kooky twist and primitive headbanging.  Cracking song with a beautiful drum solo featuring on the playout.

This leads into Love Me Till The Sun Shines, which carries on the now heavier thread leading us forward thru this collection.  It's like the album started with a strong core wire that has varied in resistance as we've gone along and with the charge varying with the mood but always there, assuring us of the song's stability, affirming trust.  By the time these last two tracks come along, the core has widened to carry the load of this much gutsier material that captures and trips you out.

All that work appears to have been in preparation for the first real gamble on the album in Lazy Old Sun, which is plenty psychedelic with the suggestion of sitars, it could easily have been written by George Harrison but I don't know if I'd've like it as much.  Much as I like George, his trippy stuff always left me cold - and was too long, which is a mistake this album never makes.

Before we know we're into the light and airy Afternoon Tea with its clean lines, spacious harmonies and a solid tune sitting atop a framework so you can get grounded again.  That's good album-sense to me.  

Where experimentation occurs it is confined to specific areas, rather than being an anarchic disregard of form.  Funny Face plays with time and texture.  It has challenges but its personality coupled with its great sense of balance and enough being enough keep it interesting.   Similarly, End Of The Season toys with the chromatic properties of minor relationships producing a sort of Thames estuary film noir.  Why do I imagine a very young Bowie doing great justice to this track?

It's all rather refreshing, a dazzling whistle-stop tour that is now revealed to have had a glorious destination in mind.  Blasting through the quirky silence by the previous track, the opening of Waterloo Sunset surprises, delights and sends a wash of shivers down my spine as my mouth begins searching for the words to this very familiar tune I had no idea was on this.

Production issues notwithstanding this album is outstanding and it would be a gross injustice to give it any fewer than 5 stars.