Ray Davies: Other People’s Lives

Solo albums by primary songwriters in bands used to confuse me. What was the point in branching off and writing a solo album when 90-95% of the material they wrote was for their band? Was it a need for name recognition? It just made no sense to me.

Little did I know that some musicians had other stylistic interests than those that their respective bands were interested in. Take, for instance, Pete Townshend. He watched his other band mates go off and have hit solo records, while he was stuck writing grandiose concepts for The Who. Now, there’s a certain style of music that The Who was loopholed into: powerful guitar anthems with themes of fighting conformity and teenage rebellion. But his solo material was more introspective, more thoughtful, and had more spiritual overtones to it than would be allowed within The Who. So, while an album like Empty Glass might have been the Who album that never was, it was different enough from The Who’s output that it could stand alone as a Townshend solo album.

Someone like Ray Davies releasing a solo album is a little more confusing, but considering The Kinks ceased to exist in 1996, that it took him until 2006 to release his first proper solo album (Return To Waterloo, a vanity album/film project that was planned as a Kinks album – and even features three songs from the most recent Kinks album – doesn’t count) is what’s most confusing. Honestly, it’s long overdue; Davies’ take on antiquated humanity had always been an alluring and endearing aspect of Kinks records, but the need to move with the times meant he had to update his stance in the late 1970s and 1980s. Having managed to largely avoid the latter-day Kinks albums, apart from a perfunctory listen, I was a little worried that Davies would keep the overblown arena rock/cod heavy metal approach on his first solo album, and approached it with mild trepidation.

Happily, on Other People’s Lives, Davies’ songwriting chops are back in full force, he abandons the thrashing drums and guitars, and his quirkiness shines through remarkably. The album truly sounds like an updated Kinks for the new millennium, with Davies opening up with the dark and brooding ‘Things Are Gonna Change (The Morning After)’, where he makes no attempt to disguise the fact that he’s no longer the young buck of yesteryear: “You feel shite, the air bites, oh will I ever learn? / Your ear’s deaf, your girl’s left, never to return”. ‘After The Fall’ is another dark, mortality-based song, which seemingly references Davies’ 2004 gunshot kerfuffle (though it was written two years prior), but, more symbolically, is a narrative on the admission of failure and the processes taken to dig oneself out of the hole. It’s no surprise, then, that ‘Next Door Neighbor’ breaks down the perceived perfection of suburbia by exposing infidelities, financial crises, and mental breakdowns. Set to a charming shuffle, with a subtle brass band punctuating the verses, the song strolls along nicely, and is a welcome change from the darkness before it.

‘All She Wrote’ is the first stumbler, and while the production – as it is on the rest of the album – is stellar, with clattering drums and ringing guitars, it’s a bit too curmudgeonly, as Davies receives a “Dear John” letter, his ex more than willing to rub in his face that she’s met someone new and he’s a whole lot better than him. There’s still some subtle humor with the jabs, making its inclusion justified, but Davies was never good at writing mean-spirited farewell songs. Returning to a clearly favorite subject of infidelity, ‘Creatures Of Little Faith’ is another song about perception, chronicling an untrustworthy couple (perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Horrible from ‘Labor Of Love’?) trying to catch each other in the act of cheating, but each payoff is more glorious than the last.

While most of the album is excellent – there aren’t any duff tracks, which is a rarity – there are a handful of classics that outshine the rest by a large degree. ‘Things Are Gonna Change’ is the first, while ‘Run Away From Time’ is the next – yet another song about mortality and the futility of escaping aging. With strident guitar chords and a quivering Hammond organ, the song could have fit in nicely on any of the Kinks’ renaissance records (from Face To Face through Arthur), and its inspirational verses are offset nicely by the hard-hitting, anthemic choruses. Counter that with ‘The Tourist’, where Davies takes off to a foreign country for a bit of rest and relaxation, only to be amused by the local customs and to expect to be treated like royalty with the wave of his magic credit card. Returning to a trick used on ‘Lola’ and ‘Supersonic Rocket Ship’, with a ringing guitar intro that isn’t used anywhere else in the song, ‘Is There Life After Breakfast?’ is the third classic song, and, much like ‘Run Away From Time’, serves as a voice of inspiration to the older generation – or perhaps to the clinically depressed (apply as you see fit).

The next two songs break the string of high quality that had faltered only slightly on ‘All She Wrote’. ‘The Getaway (Lonesome Train)’ is a lengthy ramble, unfolding its story over 6 1/2 minutes, but it tends to meander and despite some moments of beauty, runs out of steam rather quickly. The title track is a sarcastic rail against the tabloids, and predates the increasing prevalence of online journalism, though a passing reference is made. It’s a slinky, sexy track, with some gratuitous, seedy female caterwauling, but it’s not particularly enjoyable. ‘Stand-Up Comic’ is, however, with Davies taking his curmudgeonly act and basing it around a washed-up comedian, who prefers to spend his time ridiculing the abusive audience than actually telling a joke. “What do you think of me so far?” he asks. “Rubbish!” they shout back. “I thought you’d say that,” he grins, recalling 1979′s ‘Low Budget’.

The last two songs are some of the album’s best, and while they both don’t tackle anything that Davies hasn’t addressed already on the album, they’re more sentimental. On ‘Over My Head’, Davies is once again rattled by circumstance, overwhelmed by the simplistic chore of everyday living while trying to get over a failed relationship. “In a world that’s close to breaking, I thought that you were my friend / In a world that is full of hating and about to descend / I just smile and pretend,” he sighs, resigned to facing a life by himself. ‘Thanksgiving Day’, meanwhile, finds Davies reminiscing about family gatherings, and is a warm portrayal of those present and absent. The chorus – sung by a choir – strikes a poignant note, and while it’s technically a bonus track, having been released as a standalone single two years prior, it’s difficult to imagine Other People’s Lives without it.

As a debut solo album, Other People’s Lives is a superb, stellar release, proving that Davies hasn’t lost any of his creativity, and that he’s regained his nod-and-a-wink slyness that was so sorely lacking on latter-day Kinks albums. The whimsy is balanced by the realistic, the light balanced by shade, the humor masked by reflective introspection. If it weren’t for the modern-day production, this could have been the follow-up to Everybody’s In Showbiz.

Essential listening: Things Are Gonna Change (The Morning After), After The Fall, Next Door Neighbor, Run Away From Time, The Tourist, Is There Life After Breakfast?, Stand-Up Comic, Over My Head, Thanksgiving Day

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