The Kinks are often regarded as a quintessentially English band, celebrating or ruminating on British culture when many of their contemporaries were looking across the Atlantic for their inspiration. When they released Something Else in 1967, the ‘swinging sixties’ was in its full throes; social change was around the corner, and British music was an expression of freedom and rebellion as the post-war gloom lifted. However, the brilliance of Something Else stems not from vibrancy but rather from a celebration of the downbeat and downcast.
Similar to the Rolling Stones and the Beatles, the pioneering forces of the British Invasion of the mid-sixties, the Kinks’ early musical groundings leaned heavily towards America, specifically R&B and rock & roll. The band’s first single was a cover of Little Richard’s raucous ‘Long Tall Sally’, but for all their effort, they couldn’t match the master’s energy. Undeterred, the group found huge success with ‘You Really Got Me’. Built around Dave Davies’ bold power chords, ‘You Really Got Me’ was a hard-rocking classic that would go on to influence heavy metal and punk. Similar acclaim followed with ‘All Day and All of the Night’, another rough rocking anthem gaining significant U.S. airplay.
The Kinks’ American success would be curtailed to a degree by a four-year ban handed to them in 1965 by the American Federation of Musicians banning them from performing in the States. The band’s rollicking live performances often overspilled into chaos, with several documented issues, but it was a backstage brawl on Dick Clark’s Where the Action Is that was the nail in their American coffin. However, the band’s sound was starting to evolve, catering less to the rock-craving U.S. public. Their 1965 single, ‘See My Friends’, was an example of crossover music, integrating Indian raga sounds with British rock music, something the Beatles would garner significant success with on Revolver.
Ray Davies’ songwriting was simultaneously evolving as he began to focus more on British culture, often through vignettes and characters. If 1965’s Kink Kontroversy was a vehicle of transition, the following year’s Face to Face was a thorough exploration of British identity, with its clever social commentary and music hall influences. Inspired partially by the new progressive tax introduced by Harold Wilson’s government, Face to Face was dripping in satire. ‘House in the Country’ told the story of a loafer living on inherited wealth, ‘Most Exclusive Residence for Sale’ the fall of grace for a once opulent man, and the brilliant ‘Sunny Afternoon’ the story of an aristocrat feeling the squeeze on his life of luxury.
Satirical narratives would feature heavily on Something Else, birthed during a period of turmoil for the band, with Ray Davies recovering from a nervous breakdown and bassist Pete Quaife sustaining serious injuries in a car crash that saw him leave and rejoin the band. British music in the sixties was primarily geared towards teenagers, but Ray’s world-weary brand of cynicism, irony, and a sharp sense of humour felt distinctly adult. His analysis of English culture wasn’t remotely idealistic; he revelled in society’s murkier edges, telling tales of the forlorn and hopeless with emotional intelligence.
Love and loss are pertinent themes of Something Else, but Ray rarely paints things in a conventional manner. Take the blues-tinged ‘Situation Vacant’, a song about a married couple, where the husband, Johnny, is domineered by his mother-in-law to the extent he loses his job, wife, and essentially his life. ‘Afternoon Tea’ has a beautiful romantic bounce thanks to Quaife’s plodding bass notes, and on the surface, it appears like a celebration of a great English ritual, but the tradition is soured by loss: “Tea time still ain’t the same without my Donna”. The waltzing verses on ‘End of the Season’ could be interpreted in several different ways, from the revolving wheel of the British sporting calendar to the demise of the summer socialite, all with a romantic undertone.
The fuzzy rock of ‘Love Me Till the Sun Shines’ feels less about love and more about lust; the narrator is seemingly happy to accept all manner of detrimental treatment to get their end away. The bossa nova flavoured ‘No Return’ wallows in regret, Ray sounding mournful as he sings: “If, if I could see/Just how lonely my life would be”. The gliding notes, tambourine rattle, and mariachi-style horns of ‘Lazy Old Sun’ give off a hazy, romantic vibe, but Ray eschews the metaphor, directly addressing the sun. For many of Ray’s characters, genuine love seems a far off-land, and ‘Lazy Old Sun’ is the record’s most existential moment, a recognisation of something consistent in an album bogged down by gritty realities.
Occasionally love gives way to jealousy. The bouncing-piano-driven ‘David Watts’ is similar to Face to Face’s ‘Dandy’ in that it could be interpreted as an admiration anthem, but the folksy, harpsichord charm of ‘Two Sisters’ is green with envy. Ray tells the story of two very different sisters with a humourous twinkle: “Sybilla looked into the wardrobe/Percilla looked into the frying pan”. Percilla is initially jealous, seeking to break free of her domestic confines and live Sybilla’s carefree life of luxury, but after seeing her children, the envy evaporates. Unlike in the jaunty, everyday bounce of ‘Tin Soldier Man’, there’s nothing wrong with living a perceived normal life.
Something Else largely deals in failed tales of romance, but ‘Waterloo Sunset’ provides a beautiful conclusion as its characters Terry and Julie find love. What makes ‘Waterloo Sunset’ so great is its distinctly unromantic setting; it’s grimy and urban, making it all the more poignant. Love is often overly idealised and situated in flowing landscapes and gorgeous rivieras, but the realities differ. It’s a hymn to everyday beauty, the kind we continually ignore, and because of that, it has emotional resonance beyond the over-syrupy love songs that often dominate popular music.
1967 proved to be a landmark year for music, and Sgt. Pepper cast a shadow over much of British music, with Something Else selling and charting poorly. But like its follow-up, Village Green, it has received the retrospective respect it deserves. The Kinks’ presence looms over British music with the Mod revival of the late seventies and the nineties Britpop explosion indebted to the band. The Gallagher brothers may have argued like Ray and Dave, but their music borrowed more from the Beatles, but the Kinks clearly influenced Blur’s character-driven Parklife. The Kinks often didn’t receive their deserved respect, but their legacy endures.