Dave Davies and George Harrison: Parallel Lives Part II

[If you missed Part I, you can find it here.]

Connections

Both were the youngest members of the band and the lead guitarists. They may even have played the same guitar.

Dave says:

‘Somebody had loaned me a custom-built Guild guitar that had once been owned by George Harrison. In those days we carried our own instruments and when we arrived at the airport in LA all the bags arrived except for that guitar.’ Dave went on to buy a Gibson Futurist, aka the Flying Vee, for $200. I think the moral of this tale is ‘Don’t lend Dave your guitar.’

And they loved their guitars:

In Kink, Dave writes of a girlfriend:

‘She was terribly jealous of that guitar, the way I held it, the way I cared for it. She always thought I loved it more than I did her.’

George told Beatles Monthly:

‘I believe I love my guitar more than the others love theirs. For John and Paul, songwriting is pretty important and guitar playing is a means to an end. While they're making up new tunes I can thoroughly enjoy myself just doodling around with a guitar for a whole evening. I'm fascinated by new sounds I can get from different instruments I try out. I'm not sure that makes me particularly musical. Just call me a guitar fanatic instead, and I'll be satisfied.’

Collaboration

It seems that Dave and George had similar attitudes when working with others to create a song. The result was more important than who did what.

Two quotes from Dave illustrate this:

‘Lola was written in a similar way to You Really Got Me. We got together in Ray's front room, and Ray had the basic idea of the song, the skeleton idea … and I just started playing E in the bottom position, moved it up to A, leaving the E string open and in the chord. Ray said, 'Ah, that's great. Let's put that in as well.' [As a songwriter] Ray has a very firm idea about what he wants to do, and I try to accommodate him as best I can, but I think in certain areas, on certain songs, there's a lot more collaboration than people realise. Although Ray and I don't get on particularly well, there's a lot of empathy and unspoken energy that goes toward the finished product.’

'I think a rock 'n' roll record should start off being a song and should end up being a song. I think that everything around it should be complementary to it, or help it to evolve, rather than get in its way. I've always tried to keep that in mind as a guitar player. Rather than say, 'Let's start with the guitar and a 16 bar solo.' It's the song that's important, and the individual parts add to it.'

Rolling Stone founder Jann Wenner described George Harrison as:

‘a guitarist who was never showy but who had an innate, eloquent melodic sense. He played exquisitely in the service of the song.’

‘George Harrison and I were once in a car and the Beatles song You Can't Do That came on, with that great riff in the beginning on the 12-string. He goes, "I came up with that.” … He said, “I was just standing there and thought, I've got to do something!” That pretty much sums him up. He just had a way of getting right to the business, of finding the right thing to play. That was part of that Beatles magic – they all seemed to find the right thing to play.’

This is true of the Kinks too. Ray knew that he could rely on Dave to play something apposite and in tune with the spirit of the song. To me, it seems that although George and Dave weren’t writing as prolifically, they used their energy and creativity to contribute to the compositions. They understood what Aristotle meant by ‘The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.’ For some reason, I’ve always had that quotation backwards, that the sum of the parts is greater than the whole.

Recognition

I’m sure they experienced similar frustrations when their songs did not make the final album cut, with both only allowed a couple of songs per LP. In the case of the Beatles, this was instrumental in the decision to split.

In 1969, McCartney told Lennon:

‘Until this year, our songs have been better than George's. Now this year his songs are at least as good as ours.’

Thanks, guys.

This is certainly a situation that Dave could relate to. In Kink, he tells of occasions when a song of his would be slated to appear on an album, then mysteriously disappear at the last minute. Thanks, bro. Whether this was the result of Ray’s insecurity or a real belief (as with Lennon and McCartney) that his songs were better, we’ll never know.

Now I’m thinking that one reason Dave’s songs didn’t get released might be that he was reluctant to fight his corner. I know it seems unlikely given his reputation as a battler but perhaps Dave lacked confidence in his own ability. I say this because the three songs I want to consider here in relation to George’s aren’t even indexed in Kink although he mentions She’s My Girl, another song recorded but not released. Or did Dave fail in advocacy of his songs because they were products of his pain at the time and too personal?

By the late 60s/early 70s, both George and Dave have reached a pinnacle of sorts. I’ve chosen to highlight three of their songs from this time to try to showcase what’s so special about their writing. It actually makes me angry that Dave’s songs get so little recognition from a wider public (or even from Dave) when so many less deserving talents reap so many rewards. Was it ever thus? I’ve already trashed most modern music in my first blog and don’t want to come across as reactionary but everything seems so generic and formulaic these days – the same beats, the same rap interlude (I really enjoy getting aggressively harangued by a sexist man), the same inane lyrical content, the same tiny scrap of a melody, repeated endlessly. I know there are exceptions but even today’s modern-day ‘rock’ bands all seem to be one-trick ponies recycling soundalike riffs from yesteryear in a completely pedestrian manner (Arctic Monkeys, Kasabian, the Kaiser Chiefs, etc.). Ok, enough with the rant already.

This Man He Weeps Tonight (1969) 

Immediate, fresh, beautifully heartfelt, Dave’s strange pronunciation of the double rs in sorrow and tomorrow adds to the poignancy of his vocal, which is wistful, yearning, the verse resigned:

I wish that you'd have known/ Of all the plans I had in store for us/ Laughing, dancing, travelling the world on our own

the chorus raging:

And this man, he weeps tonight/And his head is bowed with sorrow/But what can you do, sitting there/And you let him cry tomorrow/Yes, you'll let him cry tomorrow/Yes, you'll let him cry tomorrow

Both this and Mindless Child of Motherhood were B-sides, the former paired with Drivin’, the latter with Shangri-la. I’m not debating that both A-sides are great but I actually think the B-sides are better. At least one deserved to be an A.

George’s songs suffered a similar fate. 

Are You Ready? (1969)

Plaintive, mournful, Dave sounds like he might actually weep singing this. Simple and effective, imbued with pain and hope, this was only available on acetate until the 2011 Hidden Treasures album.

Cause you're living with a man/Who will find no understanding/Do you mind if I laid down and cried?/Do you ever know the way/That I feel for you each day?/So are you ready girl?/Are you ready?

Asked whether he can feel the frustration in the songs on Hidden Treasures, Dave replies:

‘In a way, but after all these years it has a charm because of that. I couldn’t stand listening to it at the time. Is Are You Ready? on it? I love that song. I hated it for years. It’s about Sue again.’

Mindless Child of Motherhood (1972)

When Dave sings, it doesn’t sound like a typical Kinks record at all. His voice is instantly recognisable and his songs have a totally different feel. I think that’s a good thing, much as I love Ray, because it adds to their appeal. This reminds me of the Byrds. Dave’s compositions seem to spring from raw emotion, which he can no longer contain, and so releases in a burst of cathartic song. I wish I had the know-how to describe the musical phrasing, time signatures and everything in this amazing song. There’s a very good high-quality version on YouTube in which you can hear all the things I can't express. Dave is angry and despairing:

How long must I travel on/To be just where you are?/Mindless child of motherhood/You have lost the thing that's good

I love it even though I have no idea what the phrase ‘mindless child of motherhood’ means. It doesn’t matter.

While My Guitar Gently Weeps (1968)

Delicate intro, then each time George sings the title, the guitar lets loose with a cry of its own, a strangled sob if you like, each slightly different to the last, before a sustained solo and final burst of wailing. Eric Clapton played lead guitar on this although he wasn’t credited on the album.

Wiki facts: 136 on Rolling Stone's list of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time, 7 in the 100 Greatest Guitar Songs of All Time and 10 in the Beatles 100 Greatest Songs. A Guitar World poll in February 2012 elected it the best of Harrison's Beatles-era songs.

But still not deemed good enough to be released as a single.

George explains the genesis of the song:

‘I wrote While My Guitar Gently Weeps at my mother's house in Warrington. I was thinking about the Chinese I Ching, the Book of Changes... . The Eastern concept is that whatever happens is all meant to be, and that there's no such thing as coincidence - every little item that's going down has a purpose. While My Guitar Gently Weeps was a simple study based on that theory. I decided to write a song based on the first thing I saw upon opening any book - as it would be relative to that moment, at that time. I picked up a book at random, opened it, saw 'gently weeps', then laid the book down again and started the song.’

I look at the world and I notice it's turning/While my guitar gently weeps/With every mistake we must surely be learning/Still my guitar gently weeps

Here Comes the Sun (1969)

Follows a similar pattern to While My Guitar – a pretty guitar introduction, matched by the more insistent, louder guitar refrain that follows. This song is really optimistic and open, the tone reminscent of Dave’s song Wait till the Summer Comes Along. Dave’s supposedly down but still looking on the bright side. George says:

‘Here Comes the Sun was written at the time when Apple was getting like school, where we had to go and be businessmen: 'Sign this' and 'Sign that'. Anyway, it seems as if winter in England goes on forever; by the time spring comes you really deserve it. So one day I decided I was going to sag off [bunk off] Apple and I went over to Eric Clapton's house. The relief of not having to go and see all those dopey accountants was wonderful, and I walked around the garden with one of Eric's acoustic guitars and wrote Here Comes The Sun.’

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter/Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here/Here comes the sun/Here comes the sun, and I say/It's all right

Something (1969)

Finally George scores an A-side but having said that, the song was still originally handed to Joe Cocker, who released it first.

There’s a build of momentum, a gradual ascent, the guitar parts adding colour and texture before the peak of the bridge, which arrives like a tiger bursting through a paper hoop.

Wiki facts: The Beatles version topped the US Billboard charts and went top five in the UK. Covers by over 150 artists (including Elvis Presley, Frank Sinatra, James Brown, Shirley Bassey, Tony Bennett and Eric Clapton) make it the second-most covered Beatles song after Yesterday. Harrison’s favourite take on the song was apparently James Brown's, which he put on his personal jukebox.

The song's lyrics were taken from the title of a song by fellow Apple artist James Taylor, Something in the Way She Moves, and used as filler while the melody was being developed. The song's second line, ‘Attracts me like no other lover’ was the last to be written; during early recording sessions for Something, Harrison alternated between two placeholder lyrics: ‘Attracts me like a cauliflower’ and ‘Attracts me like a pomegranate’.

George's delivery is impassioned:

You're asking me will my love grow/I don't know, I don't know/You stick around and it may show/I don't know, I don't know/Something in the way she knows/And all I have to do is think of her/Something in the things she shows me/I don't want to leave her now/You know I believe and how

George tends to consider the bigger picture; Dave considers the actual picture; Ray is examining a flaw in the frame but more of Ray's delectable talent in a later blog.

Philosophy and religion

Dave and George both embraced yoga, became vegetarian and developed a mutual interest in Hinduism, Indian deities (My Sweet Lord was written in praise of Krishna but the singing of Allelujah allowed it to appeal to Christians) and Eastern religions and philosophy in general but, as usual, this blog is already too long. At the Satsang weekends, Dave emphasises inclusivity and although his beliefs might be based on Eastern concepts, he also calls on ‘Master Jesus’ and sings a version of Hare Krishna, in which everyone participates. George says:

‘All religions are branches of one big tree. It doesn't matter what you call Him just as long as you call.’

I don't think it could be put any better than that and it seems a good line to end on.

[Dave covers Give me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth), which has been released on the tribute album Songs from the Material World: George Harrison.]

[Another blogger also considers some of these similarities.]

[Thanks to KindaKinks site and Wikipedia.]

Dave Davies and George Harrison: Parallel Lives Part I

I’ll confine the first part of this blog to the early- to- mid-60s to make it more manageable.

I’ve already written a little about Dave’s guitar in the Kinks and the vital presence he was live and now I’m going to focus on his vocals and his songwriting.

I’ve been wondering whether there are parallels in Dave’s contribution to the Kinks with George Harrison’s to the Beatles: both lead guitarists, both great guitarists, neither of them as prolific in output as the main songwriter/s in the band. I would argue that some of the songs they did write had more emotional intensity. It’s an interesting jumping-off point for a reconsideration of Dave’s role in the Kinks.

I read in a recent article that George only managed to get about one song on each Beatles album. Whether this was his choice, I don't know. With Dave, it seems to me that he was probably discouraged by the facility and ease with which Ray turned out songs and possibly by the sheer number he came up with. Plus what demotivated Dave would motivate Ray.

I was going to write that one difference was that George only ever sang his own compositions with the Beatles but fact-checking proved me wrong. He did sing lead on at least a couple of Lennon and McCartney tunes (I'm Happy Just to Dance with You, Do You Want to Know a Secret); Dave sang on more of Ray’s songs than this and both Dave and George sang lead vocals on a number of covers. It’s not exactly clear how the decision about who would sing what was made. A few times in X-Ray, Ray mentions that he thought Dave’s voice would suit a song better or that he wrote a song for Dave, for instance, he says:

‘We recorded Come On Now [I love the version on the Picture Book set that I was lucky enough to win at the first Satsang weekend, when Dave gets the words wrong and has to restart twice, with laughter and comments in between], which I had written for Dave to sing as the B-side of our next single, Tired of Waiting for You’. 
This is par for the course – the track Dave sang (or wrote) would be the B-side even when it was exceptional like I’m Not Like Everybody Else, also originally written for Dave. Later Ray might change his mind about who should sing as he did with the latter.

Anyway, I’ve started to digress onto Dave’s vocals so let’s go.

Dave was crucial, especially in the early days, with his signature guitar sound on songs like You Really Got Me (discussed in more detail elsewhere) and his powerful lead vocal on original songs and the aforementioned covers that were then a staple of Kinks sets. Ray realises that certain of these fit Dave’s ra(n)ge and the urgency of his delivery, for instance, the rock/blues numbers, Milk Cow Blues, I’ve Been Driving on Bald Mountain, Beautiful Delilah and the Ray songs of the same ilk, such as I Don’t Need You Any More, all of which he interprets with exuberance, with his own potent feral amalgam of anger and sexual energy. Of course Ray also sang covers but not to the same extent and not with the same gusto.

COVERS

The moods and lyrics of these songs gel perfectly with Dave’s raucously fervent vocals. He may sometimes get the words wrong (remembering words is not his forte) but you never doubt his intent and he brings a credibility to some of these blues/rock standards that I don't think Ray could.

Milk Cow Blues (Sleepy John Estes)

‘Well I've tried everything to get along with you/But I'm gonna tell ya what I'm gonna do/I'm sick of all your crying, gonna leave you alone/If you don't believe I'm going/You can count the days I'm gone/I'm gonna leave/Gonna leave your lovin' baby, oh some day/Well if you don't believe I'm going/Watch me leaving you this way’

Again, who sings which bit is not set in stone. In 1965, I said before that Ray has yet to find his roar while Dave manages to smile and sneer at the same time – he wants to express the frustration in the lyrics but can't hide his delight at getting to sing on TV, so his demeanour and his performance are part-menace, part-glee (with classic hair toss) and pure exultation. Ray comes in and Dave never resumes the lead vocal, a pity as there’s some shameless one-upmanship from him in the 1966 performance. Dave’s voice is hoarse, strained, intense, real, an animal unleashed. His guitar and Mick’s drumming driving the song at points (can hardly hear Pete’s bass, although this song usually depends on it so it’s possibly just this recording), with a final flourish at the end, not that the self-involved French crowd seems to appreciate or notice it. Why is it that the French TV crews always show the audience at the expense of the band? It’s true of tennis tournaments too – the French are so obsessed with themselves that they really think we would rather see a French child or woman in the crowd than the actual tennis players.

Beautiful Delilah (Chuck Berry) 1964

That high rasp in his voice and the way the band race through the song adds a rush of excitement.

Naggin' Woman (Jerry West, Jimmy Anderson) 1965

‘So stop your naggin' woman/Nagging me right off my face/Well baby if you weren't naggin'/Honey you'd be so sweet’

Leisurely blues that Dave delivers in a drawl. Great picking on the guitar.

I’ve Been Driving on Bald Mountain (credited to Shel Talmy) 1964

Lazy, laidback beat works with Dave’s trademark lackadaisical, slurred vocals.

I’m a Lover Not a Fighter (J. D. Miller) 1964

The beginning of the true rock vocal, that fine serrated edge. Dave the Rave lets loose.

Good Golly Miss Molly (John Marascalco/Robert ‘Bumps’ Blackwell, 1958)

Dave’s joy as he performs this blues classic in 1973 is almost palpable. It infects the rest of the band. And John Gosling rocks the honkytonk piano.

EARLY RAY SONGS

I Don’t Need You Any More 1964

Dave’s distinctively rougher-edged lead vocal – is that Ray’s as counterpoint? It doesn’t sound like Ray. Very Beatles-ish, especially the bridge. Dave seems to come in a couple of words into each line, as if for emphasis – he seems to really mean it. His vocals reinforce the bitter triumph in the lyrics.

‘Well I don't need you honey/'Cause things just ain't the same/Since you've been going out with other fellas/Things have really (have) changed/Well I needed you once/But now I'm standing alone/I don't need you any more.’

Wonder Where My Baby Is Tonight 1965

Again, despite what looks like gloriously bad miming but might just be out-of-synch sound, Dave’s joie de vivre is contagious.

DAVE'S EARLY SONGWRITING

First a comparison of Dave’s One Fine Day 1964 with George Harrison’s Don’t Bother Me 1963

Both of these are completely charming and haven’t received much attention.

Dave’s early songs were perfect for the infant Kinks and for the time, great little pop songs with a Merseybeat feel, I Believed You (1963/4) and One Fine Day (a crime that this wasn’t recorded by the Kinks or Dave; Shel Naylor’s voice has a  similar jagged edge but I would still love to hear Dave sing it) – a song as energetic, fresh, irrepressible and irresistible as Dave himself. Simple but effective and similar in tone and story to George’s initial input with the Beatles, Don’t Bother Me, a song that George himself dismisses but which I think is on a par with or even superior to what Lennon and McCartney were writing at the time, just as One Fine Day compares favourably with Ray’s I Need You, admittedly only a B-side (ok I know many of you love it and Ray does too but I find it pedestrian). Lost girlfriends are the subject of the songs but the jaunty tunes suggest the boys are pretty philosophical about their losses.

Weirdly the vocal on I Believed You doesn’t sound like either Ray or Dave. It sounds more like George.

Got My Feet on the Ground 1965

A song credited to Dave and Ray that Dave races through with such a burst of breathless optimism that the first line at first listen sounds like ‘La la la la la’ when in fact he is singing words, just failing to enunciate them in his hurry. A breath of fresh air in comparison to some of the material the Kinks did release: Everybody’s Gonna Be Happy and Who’ll Be the Next in Line. Not that Ray wasn't writing truly beautiful songs at this time that never got further than demo stage: I’ve Got That Feeling, Tell Me Now So I’ll Know. Perhaps there were simply too many to go round..

Wait till the Summer Comes Along 1965

Country-style tune in which the guitar sounds like a banjo and in which Dave sounds upbeat despite the theme:

I know my summer'll never come/I know I'll cry until my dying day has come/Let the winter roll along/I've got nothing left but song.

I think it’s always difficult in a band when one person is a prolific composer as Ray was. Dave’s situation reminds me of Grant Hart’s in Husker Du, with Bob Mould churning out tunes constantly and therefore believing he had more of a claim to tracks on an album, while Grant wrote much more from emotion as Dave does.

In the beginning, Dave was obviously having way too much fun to knuckle down to songwriting. It wasn’t something he felt obliged to do, Ray being the one who reacted to the pressure from the record companies and the pressure he put on himself. Neither have Dave and responsibility ever been on great terms so it was natural for him to leave this up to Ray in the 60s when there were so many other distractions (sex, drugs and alcohol). Ray was asked to provide a song for each episode of a six-week series called Where Was Spring:

‘I had the brief for a song on a Thursday, wrote it on Friday and it went out on Saturday’.

It’s almost as if he welcomes the opportunity to work to this gruelling schedule. I can imagine what Dave would have said if asked to deliver songs like this, probably something ruder than this:

‘I don’t function that well being pushed. Being inspired, I can go on forever.’ (Dave in Uncut interview).

Ray seems to thrive on pressure, rises to the challenge, even seems to welcome the task of exercising his ingenuity within certain constraints. Dave is the total opposite. While Dave might rail against the confines and mores of the system, Ray works within it, slyly subverting and denigrating it. Dave has a knee-jerk negative reaction to anything restrictive and once things get difficult or too much like a chore, he bails. Telling Dave to do something (especially when he was young) would probably ensure that there was little chance that he would do it. He would see any limits (time, studio) as an attempt to circumscribe his imagination but also, he was far more conscious, still single and carefree, that he was missing out on other opportunities. He had other, more hedonist priorities: making the most of his new-found fame and promise of wealth. Obviously Ray was married with all the responsibilities that entailed while Dave had so far escaped that fate although I’m not sure it would have made much difference. So the idea that Dave should make a solo album to capitalise on his popularity and good looks was destined to fail.

Dave grumbles:

‘It stirred up all the emotions about Sue and I didn’t want to do the bleeding record. I felt I had to do it out of duty rather than out of joy, fun and excitement. They were very exuberant times and there I was, traipsing into the studio to force this stuff out.’

You can imagine that Dave regretted each minute spent cooped up in that small studio, trying to create to order, minutes and hours he could have spent on the town. He has no misgivings about not completing the record but his pent-up feelings for Sue and the situation resulted in some beautiful, heartfelt, soul-searching songs, full of anguish. Being a social animal, he misses the band. But perhaps it wasn’t a bad plan, to give Dave a platform for his creativity, which could be stifled under the barrage of Ray’s new songs. There seemed little space on Kinks releases for these impassioned gems, each wrested from Dave’s soul merely to languish on a B-side. Perhaps this relegation was a punishment for his refusal to complete the album.

George Harrison traversed a similar trajectory, his first Beatles A-side being Something in 1969, with the exquisite While My Guitar Gently Weeps and Here Comes the Sun unbelievably deemed not to be A-side material. I’ll compare these with Dave’s songs from the same era in Part II.

Inspiration

As Mick says in the Imaginary Man documentary, Ray could write a song about anything. For him, it was more of an intellectual process, springing from an idea, whereas for Dave it was primarily cathartic, a release. Dave needed to feel passionate before he was driven to express himself, hence all those rage-filled, melancholy digs at (the much-maligned in song) Sue: Susannah’s Still Alive, This Man He Weeps, Crying, Love Me till the Sun Shines, Funny Face.

It seems like I'm only beginning to scratch the surface so more on the above in Part II plus Eastern religions, mysticism, karma and the lighter side of the comparison.

Dave Davies: Satsang II: April 2012: You Only Live Twice

So we decided to have this once-in-a-lifetime experience twice. Starting to remind me of a title for a James Bond movie.

I’m not going to write a complete blog as I don’t want to repeat what someone else might do or has done. Instead, a few snapshots of the weekend, in words. Plus ruminations on the nature of faith.

‘I'm all about denial/But can't denial let me believe’ (‘Pavlov’s Bell’ – Aimee Mann)

I suppose that’s how I would categorise my feelings for Dave’s credo and in fact, any religious doctrine or spiritual creed. Simply wanting to believe cannot make it so because logic, reason, a natural propensity for scepticism often triumph over need and desire. They’re the Spaniards in the works as Lennon might say. Ok, I’m not the world’s most logical person but I do tend to ask too many questions.

So my beliefs bear more resemblance to superstition than anything else. I pray to St Anthony for lost items and to St Jude for lost causes. For me, faith of any kind is a triumph of will over common sense. Dave is obviously very well read and has done his research but me, I judge by results. If it works, I do it again. (Talking of ‘Do It Again’, have just seen the documentary so a review will follow shortly.) I’m not someone who ponders on whether the tree falling in the forest makes a sound kind of thing. Life’s too short; let’s not go there.

Say you watch a fantasy series, you need to suspend your disbelief in order to accept that vampires exist, that Buffy can kill them, that Sunnydale is the Hellmouth, etc. My attitude reminds me of something my Dad once said, while watching an episode of Smallville (I’ve long since stopped worrying about my Dad’s unerring interest in US teen dramas); one of the teens with meteor powers uses them in a destructive way, so, in order to control this, she’s forced to wear a bracelet made of lead, which prevents her from accessing her powers. My Dad is up in arms over this: ‘Ridiculous! As if a lead bracelet could do that! …’, etc. He’s happy to believe that a meteor shower could give people special abilities, that an alien arrived from the Planet Krypton and is living as a Kansas farmboy before becoming Superman but he draws the line at the efficacy of a lead bracelet. Now, whenever we’re watching something that does invite the suspension of disbelief, and we’re tempted to question an event that seems even more unlikely than the general tenor of the film might dictate, we call it ‘having a lead bracelet moment’ and laugh at ourselves – why is this one thing less credible than the rest? But we all have them, I think, those moments, however spurious, the lines we’re not willing to cross, either out of reason or out of fear, the bridge too far. I’m not sure Dave has them though and that’s what makes his outlook and his conversation so fascinating. It could lead anywhere.

Dave doesn’t discount or disavow other religions, mentioning Christ, Ganesh and Buddha – he’s inclusive and accepting and has cast his net wide in search of enlightenment. So, we’re looking at a patchwork quilt of different philosophies, so that, as well as a buffet lunch, we can partake of a spiritual smorgasbord (always wondered if I’d ever get a chance to use that word), with some options for the more refined palate, or those who have acquired a taste for something relatively rare, and others more easily digestible to the spiritual novice.

It’s the sort of thing I’m perfectly at home with, although I don’t accept that any of it is necessarily true or real; I have a similarly inclusive mentality. Why shouldn’t it be so? Although I’ve never seen an angel, I believe Dave when he says he has. At the risk of sounding facetious, I always wanted a visit from the Blue Fairy.

Perhaps my problem is that I’ve never particularly desired enlightenment. I’m more at ease with confusion. Should the divine be explicable or should it remain a mystery? Transubstantiation, the Trinity (such a beautiful word), reincarnation, all lovely ideas that might fall apart under analysis.

What seems contradictory though is the rejection of the ritual of established Western religions (vicars, communion, incense, kneeling to pray and so forth) and the embracing of concomitant rituals in Eastern faiths, such as gurus, types of breathing, mantras, chanting, meditation, all of which to me are just symptoms of the same kind of mind control. Why should chanting a certain phrase be any more effective than saying a Hail Mary? I’m sure Dave would say it wouldn’t be, that they would both have value.

Maybe I harp on about this because I find being instructed, however gently, when and how to breathe extremely stressful, partly because of my complete inability to comply, and thus, while for others, it is inducing a sense of peace, the perfect prelude to meditation, in me, a state of panic is rising and the very opposite is achieved.

[In the ante-room, there’s a statue, a Buddha or an Indian god, I can't remember, with a bowl of satsumas in front of it. I was just about to nab one before I realised that possibly they were an offering to the deity – I’ve been on a Buddhist retreat so I’m a little wise to this sort of thing – I do see someone else take and eat one later though but I won't tell on them.]

‘Look through any doorway/Tell me what you see’

Who’s to say what’s real, whether the voices people hear are those of spirit guides or demons or aliens or the result of drug-induced psychosis? If the latter, does it make them any less valid? Maybe it’s simply another way of opening the mind, of looking at the world? Perhaps it’s how we react to them that determines our fate, whether we consider them friend or foe. I know many people who have, sometimes as the result of a bad trip, sometimes through stress, developed what used to be diagnosed as schizophrenia. Some have never returned to ‘normality’ (whatever that is – I know the way I live would not fit most people’s definition; as Dave says in Kink, ‘What’s normal, anyway?’), some are fine for a while on medication, then relapse, some just cope with the existence of a certain amount of what could be deemed ‘unreality’. Just watched a documentary on Peter Green; his experience with mescaline is a good example.

Dave copes well without his spiritual helpmeet, Rosina, absent through illness but the schedule suffers a little – I wanted to hear about the UFOs but, for some reason, we never got round to this.

Without the constant rain of last year, we were able to appreciate the location. Although not far removed from town, there was still a sense of remoteness, of cut-off-ness, ideal for a retreat. Plus this time we took the Magic Bus (some of our number having been on the real ‘Magic Bus’ that I had only read about in novels and didn’t imagine had actually existed), so the length of the path we were on felt emphasised as we were driven through picturesque chocolate-box villages on our way out to sea.

‘True Phenomenon’

That connection with Dave, not as pronounced this time, but he certainly felt my breathlessness, as an asthmatic without an inhaler, when I entered the room, asking ‘Are you having trouble breathing?’ I was suffering from a sense of disquiet too that I hoped I hadn’t communicated to him (or that he hadn’t communicated to me) as a friend thought he seemed more relaxed than last year. I thought he was pretty relaxed last year.

I was more in awe than last time, perhaps because then I had only liked the Kinks for two months and had had only a little time to absorb the huge amount of material they had produced over their thirty-year career, not to mention all the solo stuff. I knew they were amazing but hadn’t really absorbed the scale of their talent.

Highlights of the gigs: Dave on acoustic ‘Are You Ready, Girl?’, ‘Fortis Green’ a stormer both nights, ‘Milk Cow Blues’ a rousing finale, the new songs, ‘Green Amp’ and ‘Remember the Future’, which he did when requested. Dave, ever obliging, sang, when asked ‘Visionary Dreamer’, with a member of the audience and delivered ‘Dead-End Street’ almost word-perfect although it had not been rehearsed. Surprised by how much I enjoyed ‘Hare Krishna’, even the singing along and ‘Creeping Jean’ which used to frighten me. Loved dancing to ‘Sea of Heartbreak’. I had requested ‘Imagination’s Real’; they had rehearsed it; but Dave didn’t seem to want to play it so I said I didn’t mind if they didn’t. Listening to it now and it’s so darn pretty, I wish they had played it.

As Molly, our lovely yoga teacher, was about to leave, there were calls for ‘Good Golly Miss Molly’. Thank God Dave had the presence of mind not to comply; the lyrics would have been a little inappropriate ‘Good golly, Miss Molly, Sure likes to ball’ for this remarkably prescient young lady.

Band personnel (as last time but minus Kristi – we missed you): Jonathan Lea, David Nolte, Frank Rawle. And Dave of course!

People: There were fewer of us (due to some last-minute cancellations) so it was great to see some familiar faces and get better acquainted as well as meet some new recruits. Last year, there were some people I only spoke to on the last day and wished there’d been more time. With fewer people, it was easier to get to know each other. Although the instant sense of camaraderie wasn’t there – that first time was different probably because it was the first time – they were all lovely, like- and open-minded folk.

The artwork: I did manage to add something to it this time; last time I never got round to it and thought any addition I made could only detract from the general effect. So I went with words instead of images. As Jackie (Leven) was very much on my mind, I used an album title of his. Luckily, writing with a paintbrush looks sort of artistic.

Mementoes: There was a raffle and I got a copy of The Aschere Project: Two Worlds, which is probably ‘prog’ enough for my Dad to like. I’ll have to lend it to him. Interesting and actually much more listenable than I expected. (Actually two days since I wrote this, I woke up singing the title track - it's a grower.)

Also managed to scalp a setlist that the band was kind enough to autograph and received another special memento, courtesy of Jonathan (it’s nothing inappropriate).

‘There were times when there was absolute compassion in the air’

(Sorry to quote Ray here but he does have a way with words)

For all of us there, I can only say follow Dave’s advice and ‘Trust your heart’. Surely any issue or disagreement can be resolved if we simply allow love, compassion and respect to prevail.

In the back of a record rack/There's an old double pack/Twelve inches and black/With an old crumpled cover/But every track is stacked

On our last night, members of the group said they were going to reconvene at the Anchor in the evening and gave us very specific directions to reach it. We passed these onto the rest of the party. Left Dave’s house and tried to find the pub. Came across another one, the Crown, but had somehow missed the Anchor, I thought because we’d been talking, and walked past it. I was dispatched into the pub to ask. The natives were friendly and happy to engage with me on the subject of the mysterious Anchor although they listed all the pubs in town (which I already knew) and could only surmise that we were expected to go to a nearby town (we’ll call it ‘Mordor’) where there was a Blue Anchor. Mordor was a long way away, down a very steep hill. I said ‘I’m not going to **** ing Mordor!’ Then my sister came in, and noticed people waving at us from the back of the room, the people who’d told us to come to the Anchor. Even now, they had no idea this was the Crown. Girls! Anyway, then I went back to the bar and asked the regulars to pretend this was the Anchor if anyone else asked. Sure enough, another group arrives, puzzled too that here’s a pub at the exact location but it’s not the right pub. So they ask a man smoking outside – ‘Do you know where the Anchor is?’ and he replies, ‘Apparently, it’s here tonight’. It was a lovely pub though, with a turntable and we could choose our own music from a box of records on the table, so we started off with a Kinks greatest hits, so inevitably there was dancing; the backroom looked like a record library. What an amazing collection. Plus they stayed open till 1 a.m., still serving one of us. How welcoming.

So the tale of how we renamed Dave’s local for one night will make us legends in our own lunch hour.

Picture is of the sunrise after a

Sunrise from the hotel

‘Sleepless Night’

Had a strange experience in bed that last night. I take a lot of medication to help me sleep but suddenly I found myself thrown off the bed so violently that I bit through my lip, causing it to bleed and swell up. I’ve never fallen out of bed in my life before and this was a double bed, much bigger than mine. Now, if I’d bitten my tongue, I could have taken it as a sign … . Annoyingly, we were going to meet someone we work with the next day, for the very first time, so he’s going to think I’m a bit of a bruiser, like the young Dave, picking fights in bars. I did notice that everyone was very friendly to me on the train home, no doubt anxiously wondering what the other guy looked like.

Anyway, it was great fun but it feels weird to blog about it because it’s a little like going to stay with friends then writing a report afterwards ... what they said, what you ate and so on ...

Booked tickets to see Ray now but can't imagine it could compare to being a foot away from Dave when he’s performing. If only Ray were playing some more intimate venues. Looking forward to it though.