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The Kinks were part of the historic British Invasion, conquering American
airwaves
and turntables in the mid-1960s. Hits like “You Really Got Me” and “Tired of Waiting”
were the first wave, then came a few years of relative
obscurity until 1970, when the
supersmash “Lola” came out.
The Village Green Preservation Society
was released in late 1968, during the obscure period. Like the Moody Blues’ To Our Children’s
Children’s Children, there are no hit singles at all. Yet many Kinks fans point
to Village Green
as one of their best albums, easily in the top
three.
I had never before heard these fifteen songs, but after one
listening I’d
already picked out a few classics, such as the title track – a
tongue-in-cheek list of things that ought to be preserved, including “strawberry jam, and
all the different varieties.” Songwriter and lead singer Ray Davies further
explains:
“Preserving the old ways from being abused/
Protecting the
new ways for me and for you/
What more can we do?”
“Do You Remember
Walter?” is about your old school chum who hasn’t so much as
written or called you in
twenty years. You were inseparable – you were going
to buy a boat together! – but it
was not to be. Most of us have a Walter in
our past. (Mine was named
Ray.)
“Picture Book” is a head-bopping tune about the pleasure of leafing
through a
family photo album. The song is used to interesting effect in a current ad
campaign for HP printers and has that distinctive Brit Invasion sound.
“Big Sky” and “Phenomenal Cat” are two tracks that represent the
mystical/psychedelic trends of the day. “Sitting by the Riverside” begins peacefully
enough, then falls into a Day in the Life-style vortex before emerging, calm and
majestic. I’m not sure what “Animal Farm” is all about, except that I find myself
singing along, loudly, every time.
“Village Green,” a distant cousin of
the title track, is about yearning for the place of one’s youth. “‘Twas there I met a
girl called Daisy,” the singer
pines, and goes on to extol the virtues of churches,
clocks and steeples.
About as far away from rock and roll as you can get, but I like
the sheer
Britishness of it. Even the harpsichord.
“All of My Friends
Were There” is a tale of a performance gone wrong, accompanied by a galumphing music hall
melody. “Oh, the embarrassment, oh, the despair!” Funny and self-deprecating (and
evidently a true story of Davies’ stage fright).
The CD concludes with
“People Take Pictures of Each Other.” It has the feel of an ethnic wedding tune,
complete with fast dancing tempo and the explosion of tambourines. It’s the flip side of
“Picture Book,” and just as catchy.
