Nothing To Say: A Brief Review Of The New Reissue Of Arthur (Or The Decline And Fall Of The British Empire) By The Kinks

Only one year after The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society, The Kinks went from looking back to some impossibly bucolic British past, to the nearly-contemporary rot in Britain in 1969. The set, reissued as of last Friday in fine fashion on a deluxe edition, is Ray Davies at his most cynical. There are moments of sweetness here, but Davies, and his brother Dave, are more interested in pointing a finger at the societal decay around them, and larger forces of culture and war that drive men to their graves over and over.

Envisioned as a soundtrack to a TV play, Arthur stands on its own, of course. Like The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society, there are loads of numbers here that are lyrically astute and melodically light. Something like "Drivin'" wouldn't have sounded entirely out of place on the earlier record from the band, and "Victoria", a classic still, stands as a stark, jaundiced view of history. Ray Davies here does that thing where one isn't quite sure if he's celebrating the past or mocking it, or maybe doing both at the same time? In that regard, he's comparable to Randy Newman in this era, but Ray's got a good deal more sympathy for his characters. "Some Mother's Son" clearly sides with those killed in wars, not those who ordered them, and "Mr. Churchill Says" goes and confirms that idea.

With "Brainwashed", the rockiest thing here, I think, the Davies brothers are skewering the middle class even more than any acid rock band was doing in 1969. The tune is, like ,the extraordinary "Shangri-La", the product of its milieu even as it's delivering a real death blow to the whole thing. In that regard, Arthur contains some of Ray Davies' very best compositions even as the album remains not quite as sunny as earlier Kinks releases. Still, for whatever rosiness was lost, the loss gave Davies the inspiration to write "Australia", a number that blends about a half-dozen genres in one epic cut. It is the sort of thing that stands as a clear marker in the progression of Davies as a songwriter, and the kind of number that reveals just how far his craft had progressed in only a few short years. Still, for those longing for the easily-digestible stuff of the Face to Face era, "Nothing To Say", near the end of the album, is catchy, even if it's a bit jaded in its lyrical concerns.

The real draw of this 50th anniversary edition of Arthur (Or The Decline and Fall of the British Empire) is disc 2 and the Great Lost Dave Davies Album. An aborted Dave Davies solo record from 1969, the tracks are now sequenced into something that really works, with a few of these numbers being just absolutely stunning. "Creeping Jean" is epic, a rocker that's like a revved-up version of "Lazy Old Sun" from just a few years earlier. Dave's vocals and guitar here are fantastic, while "Groovy Movies" is funny and peppy, and "Lincoln County" sounds a whole lot like Small Faces. Elsewhere, "Mr. Reporter" works up a nice stomp, while "There is No Life Without Love" is elegant and lovely. This Lost Dave Davies Album is not entirely a revelation, but there's enough here that pleases tremendously to make this alone the reason to get this 50th anniversary set of Arthur. Of course, the discs are peppered with other nice bonus selections, including a rollicking stereo mix of "Plastic Man" and a mono run at "King Kong", a number that still charms with its silliness.

Still, for all those riches, and those of Dave Davies' tracks here, it's the genius of Ray Davies that still amazes. Arthur (Or The Decline and Fall of the British Empire) remains as essential as The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society, even if the pleasures within are of other shades, and darker emotions in spots.

Arthur (Or The Decline and Fall of the British Empire) by The Kinks is out now and can be ordered here.

[Photo: BMG]