In the '60s, the Kinks were a seminal rock band that made their point with blistering riffs and catchy melodies. Even in the '70s and '80s, the band kept on touring and producing new material, although to an increasingly small audience.
In the '90s, the band finally called it quits, leaving frontman Ray Davies to consider what to do next with his career. Davies vanished into solitude before finally penning a deal with Capitol Records for a solo release in 1999. But Davies was incredibly secretive throughout his writing process, recording demos but refusing to play them for any label representative. Finally, after producing nothing by 2002, Davies left the label without releasing anything new.
Jump to today: To much hullabaloo, Davies has finally released his long-awaited solo debut, "Other People's Lives," on indie label V2 Records. The songs, recorded over a four-year span entirely on Davies' dime and with his friends as instrumentalists, reflect the mind of a troubled man lost in a mid-life crisis via multiple character sketches disguised as songs. But how does the album come together as a whole?
Unfortunately, not as well as everyone hoped. After waiting for four years for the genius to fully bloom, one can only describe the result as well-written, but in the end, blas?©. Maybe embracing the songs as they organically came about would have worked better for an album such as this, rather than sitting on them for the better half of a decade.
The opening track, "Things Are Gonna Change," starts the album well, but by the end of the song, Davies' swells of rhythmic talking become a bit grating on the ear. In terms of musicality, the song is well done, but the bass playing of Norman Watt Roy is too flowery for the straightforward rock attitude of the song. Considering that Davies had years to work on it, it's surprising that any arrangement issue as basic as this would have been overlooked or left as is.
Even as one hopes the next track would redeem the flaws of the first, the second tune, "After the Fall," is only a swift kick to the groin of hopes of a second wind. The song, set in the acoustic rock style of Neil Young, lacks the energy that Young injected into his painful ballads. Instead, the listener is greeted with the increasingly annoying lisp of Davies and his attempts at soulfulness.
The song "Well Respected Man" is a very famous one in the Kinks' repertoire. It is the quintessential sketch of a successful man who goes to work and loves his wife: nothing more, nothing less. Davies' style of characterization works in such a song, since it is paired with the chugging guitar lines of his brother, Dave Davies. The two elements complement each other and render the song a functional masterpiece of melodic character sketches.
But when Ray Davies attempts this feat on his own with "Next Door Neighbour" (note the quaint British spelling), it falls flat. Although the lyrics alone are quite poetic and uplifting, the joining of the words with music is unflattering, to say the least.
Again, Davies' spoken word style does not mesh with the unimaginative musicality of the piece, leaving "Next Door Neighbour" sounding more like a children's song meant to teach good morals than a piece of professional music.
The standout track that truly works with the poetic recitations Davies employs is "Stand Up Comic." This time, the feigned element of melody is abandoned, leaving only the words and tone of voice to speak for themselves. Watt Roy's overactive bass playing also fits the song, bouncing around to create a jovial atmosphere. Most importantly, to the listener, the song sounds organic and raw. It has the energy of a first take of a newly written song. The feel of this character sketch avoids the overarching problem that seems to plague Davies' sessions.
In the end, Davies proves to still be, as Pete Townshend of The Who claims, the rightful poet laureate of England. But Davies' solo debut lacks that which his brother Dave brought to the Kinks: a sense of melody and soulful, biting guitar lines that could compliment Ray's sense of style without overpowering it.
Ray sums up the situation best in his song "Stand Up Comic" when he chirps: "That's that / Style I mean / Never was much, never has been / But the little bit that was / was all we ever had."
