Tag Archives: The Kinks

Rocks In The Attic #702: Alexandre Desplat – ‘Isle Of Dogs (O.S.T.)’ (2018)

RITA#702Okay, I’m calling it: Wes Anderson has run out of ideas.

There was a time when I’d be over the moon about a new Wes Anderson film. For a long time, he was my favourite director. David Fincher films would show me the scary side of humanity, but Wes Anderson films would hold my hand and reassure me that it’s going to be alright.

But then the first damp squib emerged with 2007’s The Darjeeling Limited, a film lacking originality beyond its armchair tourism setting. Back in 1974, John Cleese opted out of the fourth and final series of Monty Python’s Flying Circus out of a fear of repeating himself. In the same stale frame of mind, Anderson turned to a new medium to spark his creativity.

2009’s Fantastic Mr. Fox is the last great Wes Anderson film, and strangely so. It might be the first time he’s adapted the work of others – in this case, Roald Dahl’s children’s book – but the challenge of filming it with stop-motion puppets reinvigorated Anderson. After two decades of computer animation ruling children’s cinema, it was great to see something so home-made, yet so quintessentially from the whimsical mind of Anderson.

What followed were two live-action films that played like parodies of Wes Anderson films: 2012’s Moonrise Kingdom and 2014’s The Grand Budapest Hotel. They looked great, they were complimented by wonderful ensemble casts, but the spark just wasn’t there. It was a long, long way from something like Rushmore, The Royal Tennenbaums or The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou.

So it was with great trepidation that I approached Isle Of Dogs. As with all of his films, it looks nice, but it’s nothing more than a rehash of everything we’ve seen before.

The music, as always, is wonderful, and while I prefer the more idiosyncratic soundtrack collaborations with Devo’s Mark Mothersbaugh earlier in Anderson’s career, these later ones scored by Aexandre Desplat come a close second. This particular soundtrack is worthwhile if only for introducing me to I Won’t Hurt You by The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, a beautiful latter day Kinks song in everything but name.

I don’t look forward to Wes Anderson films anymore. In fact, I dread to think what Steely Dan think of his films now?

Hit: Midnight Sleighride  – The Sauter-Finegan Orchestra

Hidden Gem: I Won’t Hurt You – The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band

Rocks In The Attic #651: David Bowie – ‘1966’ (2016)

RITA#651.jpgIt’s interesting that Bowie emerged from such run-of-the-mill ‘60s beat-pop into something so relevant and unique. For me, aside from standout singles Space Oddity and The Man Who Sold The World, he doesn’t really become interesting until Hunky Dory – and then all of a sudden he’s very interesting.

This LP – a collection of his 1966 singles recorded for the Pye label – could have been recorded by any number of London-based mod singers from the mid-‘60s. It’s not a million miles from the likes of the Kinks, except that it’s a million miles from them at the same time. You can hear that it’s Bowie – that strange, almost pained delivery of vocals is hard to miss – but the material is second-rate. Where Ray Davies made ordinary sound interesting, here Bowie makes ordinary sound, well, ordinary.

Still, it’s a nice little time-capsule of where he started, and at least it’s not as bad as The Laughing Gnome.

Hit: I’m Not Losing Sleep

Hidden Gem: Do Anything You Say

Rocks In The Attic #607: The George Baker Selection – ‘Love In The World’ (1971)

RITA#607K-BILLY’s “super sounds of the seventies” weekend just keeps on coming with this little ditty. They reached up to twenty one in May of 1970. The George Baker Selection: Little Green Bag.

How Quentin Tarantino found this song and picked it out of obscurity to be one of the coolest, era-defining songs of the 1990s is beyond me. Listening to the rest of this record – the second release by the George Baker Selection – there isn’t a great deal else to point to such a gem of a song.

If anything, the Dutch band seems to be a curiosity, lost between decades and difficult to classify. They’re half-late’60s pop rock (late-era Byrds, late-‘60s Kinks) and half-early ‘70s singer-songwriter rock, all jumbled up with a touch of pysch and a sprinkling of jazz. They make for an interesting listen, that’s for sure.

Little Green Bag was the first track of their 1970 debut (also titled Little Green Bag), and given that Wikipedia doesn’t even have pages for their albums beyond this, it looks like they peaked commercially right at the start of their career.

Even Little Green Bag is difficult to classify. After an extremely cool intro, the song devolves into a crooning cabaret song. The change in tone is startling – like a smoking Miles Davis groove taken over by a bravado Tom Jones vocal.

Hit: Little Green Bag

Hidden Gem: Suicide Daisy

Rocks In The Attic #538: Robert Palmer – ‘Double Fun’ (1978)

RITA#583
Now this fella had a good voice. I remember shopping in Kingbee Records in Manchester on the morning that I heard he had died, and toying with the idea of buying one of his records. I didn’t buy it in the end. I hadn’t heard anything by him other than the ubiquitous late ‘80s singles Addicted To Love and Simply Irresistible, and surely I wouldn’t appreciate a full album of his yuppy rock songs.

I don’t think I ever saw any of his records in the wild again until I picked this up – studio album number four. It’s a damn good record, and Palmer’s blue-eyed soul voice is really a wonderful thing. Genre-wise, it reminds me of early Hot Chocolate – a poppy mixture of groove-based rock and grown up soul and R&B. Anybody with the confidence to work up a decent funk version of the Kinks’ You Really Got Me is worth more than five minutes of my time.

By this stage, Palmer wasn’t pulling in the likes of the Meters or Little Feat to back him in the studio, as on his first two records. I don’t immediately recognise any of the musicians who contributed to the sessions, but there are definitely a lot of them – twenty nine players in total – suggesting that the sessions were a casual, unstructured affair.

Hit: Every Kinda People

Hidden Gem: Come Over

Rocks In The Attic #561: The Kinks – ‘Kinda Kinks’ (1965)

rita561If there’s one ‘60s group whose album output doesn’t quite match up to their singles output, it’s probably the Kinks. The A-sides that Ray Davies wrote during that decade are up there with the best anybody else had to offer. He’s the only songwriter that comes anywhere close to the strength of Lennon and McCartney’s singles, yet the first batch of Kinks albums in the mid-‘60s don’t really deliver on that promise.

Their debut record is built around You Really Got Me, this follow-up is buoyed by Tired Of Waiting For You, the third album has ‘Til The End Of The Day and Where Have All The Good Times Gone, and album number four has Sunny Afternoon on it. Most of – but definitely not all of – the rest of these records have a load of generic R&B-inflected filler material making up the numbers. It actually makes sense in this case to own at least one good Kinks compilation. There’s nothing patchy about a collection of their singles.

My favourite track on Kinda Kinks is Nothin’ In The World Can Stop Me Worryin’ ‘Bout That Girl, notable for its appearance in Kinks-fan Wes Anderson’s Rushmore soundtrack. This really is a beautiful, tender song and hints at the more mature songwriting we would hear from Ray Davies much further towards the end of the decade. So Long is another song in this folk vein, where you can hear more of what the Kinks became, rather than the American R&B they’re aping on the rest of the record.

Hit: Tired Of Waiting For You

Hidden Gem: Nothin’ In The World Can Stop Me Worryin’ ‘Bout That Girl

Rocks In The Attic #467: The Kinks – ‘Kinks’ (1964)

RITA#467.jpgA couple of months ago, I got so sick of having no Kinks records in my collection I resolved to do something about it. But there was a problem – after nearly twenty years of collecting, I had never seen any Kinks records in the wild. They do exist, don’t they? I haven’t just made them up in my head?

So, what do you do when you can‘t find an animal in the wild? You employ the services of a poacher. Onto Discogs I went, and I found some very nice recent reissues of the first three albums – Kinks (1964), Kinda Kinks (1965) and The Kink Kontroversy (1965) – all on lovely red vinyl. I paid my money and very soon, just like the dentist-cum-hunter who shot and killed Cecil the lion, I had my prize. By the way, Cecil The Lion sounds so English, it could almost be the title of a Kinks song.

Of all the beat explosion bands that emerged in the wake of the Beatles, the Kinks might just be my favourite. Their run of ‘60s singles – from You Really Got Me in 1964, though to Lola in 1970 – is bloody strong, and of such a high quality they really should be seen as equals to the Beatles, the Stones and the Who. They’re quite often not though. They tend to be considered as poor cousins, one rung down on the ladder with the likes of the Hollies, Manfred Mann and the Animals.

In Ray Davies, the Kinks had something that those premier bands could only dream of – a one-man Lennon & McCartney and  a remarkably consistent songwriting machine. Only Pete Townshend comes close in being the singular visionary for one of those top ‘60s band – and as far as I’m concerned, the strength of Davies’ songwriting blows him out of the water.

As a debut album, this record is very similar in tone and content to its contemporaries, being comprised mainly of R&B and rock n’ roll covers, together with a previous few examples of original material. The two standout songs on the album – You Really Got Me and Stop Your Sobbing – are exactly that though – standout songs. They’re absolutely fantastic. Stop Your Sobbing might be more famous for its cover by the Pretenders (it was never released as a single by the Kinks), but it’s still a great song.

The record is also notable for the non-Kink personnel who played on the sessions – namely Jimmy Page from Led Zeppelin on guitar, and Jon Lord from Deep Purple on piano. Crikey!

Hit: You Really Got Me

Hidden Gem: Beautiful Delilah

Rocks In The Attic #392: The Animals – ‘The Animals’ (1964)

RITA#392On opening track, Story Of Bo Diddley, it’s highly amusing that Eric Burdon refers to Richmond in Surrey as the deep south. Why not, eh? That would make the Animals hometown of Newcastle Upon Tyne equal to Chicago, wouldn’t it? They’d probably like that, given their love of Chicago blues.

Of all the British Invasion groups of the ‘60s, the Animals always get classified as a second-tier group. They didn’t come bursting out of the starting gates with their own compositions, like the Kinks or the Who, and unlike their closest rivals the Rolling Stones, they never made the leap from blues copyists to writing their own songs.

It’s a shame that they’ll forever be linked with House Of The Rising Sun rather than something of their own making. They deserve some respect for the arrangement of that song though, which takes the song somewhere special. In Dylan’s hands – and prior to him, in Dave Van Ronk’s hands – it sounded ordinary.

Hit: Memphis Tennessee

Hidden Gem: Story Of Bo Diddley