The Kinks: Preservation: Act 1

The Kinks – or, more specifically, Ray Davies – had gotten so far up their creative behinds by the early 1970s that it seemed like there was nowhere to go but down. Muswell Hillbillies was a glorious, understated record, and followed a succession of equally glorious and understated records: Face to Face, Something Else, The Kinks are the Village Green Preservation Society, Arthur or the Decline and Fall of the British Empire, and Lola vs Powerman and the Money-Go-Round. It was impossible for him to keep up that quality of writing, and, unhappy with the direction that the Kinks were going, he decided to shift gears, thus beginning an era of unrefined concept albums that said very little.

Preservation: Act 1 is the first of two albums to focus on the modernization of England. The plot, which is difficult to ascertain, deals with an unscrupulous land developer (Mr. Flash) who buys up all the land to make way for identical, charmless prefabricated homes. It was something that Ray had addressed before, on Muswell Hillbillies and Village Green Preservation Society (in fact, the title of this opus indicates that its a continuation of topics explored on the latter title), but when stretched out over two sides of vinyl, there really isn’t a whole lot to say. (An integral song to the plot, but not necessarily a good song in general, is ‘Preservation’, not released on either act but instead as a single; it sums up Ray’s sentiments, and what the albums were about, rather well. The song was released as a bonus track on the 1998 CD reissue though, oddly, was placed as the first song, knocking back the slight yet atmospheric introduction ‘Morning Song’ to second place.)

Thankfully, the narrative is loose, and songs like ‘Sweet Lady Genevieve’ and ‘One Of The Survivors’ have little to do with keeping England English. The former is a plaintive ballad that is among Davies’ finest, while the latter is a rather lame reminder that rock ‘n’ roll will always endure, no matter what. Personally, I can’t relate to the sentiments of ‘Survivors’, partly because simple “hey let’s rock out now!” songs never really did it for me, but also because I was never aware that rock ‘n’ roll was in danger of becoming extinct. Apparently, 1973 was rock ‘n’ roll’s 1984: Who bassist John Entwistle released Rigor Mortis Sets In, an album that mourned the passing of the genre. Having been born a decade later, and seriously gotten into music a decade after that, I’m clearly not the leading authority on this crisis; ‘Survivors’ has some good moments, but it’s a not very convincing rock boogie that doesn’t really fit in with the concept.

The band are augmented by female backing vocalists, who do little more than wail and make the songs sound like cheesy Broadway cast-offs, and a brass band that turn the arrangements into the soundtrack of a cheap B cop flick. It doesn’t help that Ray tries to funk up the arrangements, as on closer ‘Demolition’, one of the least satisfying songs of the bunch. ‘Money & Corruption’ goes on far too long and is so devoid of melody and overbusy percussion that it becomes downright unbearable to listen to.

The rest isn’t so much bad as it is ponderous at worst, and quirky at best. ‘Where Are They Now?’ asks just that: Swinging Londoners, Teddy Boys, and angry young men are all missing, though no answer is given. Hmm. ‘Cricket’, meanwhile, is so British that it’s endearing, and while it may go over the heads of Americans (it would be like an American band writing a song called ‘Baseball’, ‘Football’, or ‘NASCAR Racing’), the trad jazz arrangement makes up for the twee lyrics. ‘Here Comes Flash’ has a great amount of theatricality to it, with blasts of timpani and a bridge that could have been lifted directly from the musical version of Tommy. However, Dave Davies voice grates, and extended listening to anything he sings lead vocals on can result in explosion of the ear drums.

It’s not that Preservation: Act 1 is bad; it’s just confounding. Had it been presented as a straightforward rock album, and with some judicious editing, it could have been somewhat decent, but the concept is so bloated and impenetrable that Ray Davies would have been better off abandoning it entirely. Unfortunately, he didn’t, and he proceeded to drag down the next three Kinks releases (Preservation: Act 2, The Kinks Present A Soap Opera, and Schoolboys In Disgrace) with equally banal concepts. The listener would be better advised listening to any of the Kinks albums released between 1966 and 1971, to be reminded of just how ingenious a songwriter Ray Davies could be.

Essential listening: Daylight, Sweet Lady Genevieve, Sitting In The Midday Sun