Ray Davies Mastertapes BBC Maida Vale

(Further to my JR/Bobby Dallas analogy from the last blog, here’s a quote from Bobby: ‘I’ve got unfinished business with you, JR’. Strange coincidence that Dave has an album called Unfinished Business. Very sad to learn that Larry Hagman has died. Rest in peace.)

Leafy Maida Vale

The Place

Doesn't Maida Vale sound magical and romantic? Its name holds some kind of Arthurian or mythological connotations; it conjures up a more gallant time. Maybe that’s just me. Always interesting to get off at tube stops I’ve never visited before. Tall buildings, tall trees: leafy and affluent. Jackie Leven used to live in a squat here (one year since the great man passed, sorely missed, RIP). Went to one of the memorial concerts and was very moved so will blog later.

The BBC (OBN) or Here Come the People in Grey

The trouble with the Old Boys’ Network is that it engenders a culture of benign incompetence. Everyone is very nice but no one knows what they’re doing. This is the impression I’ve always had and my experience at the Ray Davies Mastertapes recording simply served to reinforce it. The fiasco over Newsnight, Jimmy Savile, Lord McAlpine and George Entwistle is typical. Where else could someone do a job badly for 54 days and get a payout of £450k? Please employ me – I can do that too.

Muswell Hillbillies era Kinks

We’d been asked to supply questions to put to Ray; each questioner has to give their profession so they can be introduced as ‘Wilfred Hood, Chartered Accountant’ or whatever. Why? Do they think we’re defined by what we do? It would be more interesting if we were asked our pornstar names (a friend of ours has a great one – Scottie Old Farm – sounds like she caters for a niche market, let me know if you don't know how to work yours out and I’ll tell you). They also require surnames. Sister is down without a surname although she has supplied it on email when asked and three times since arriving; she is still ‘Belinda, self-employed’. She might as well just add ‘Mistress’ before this and perhaps substitute dominatrix for self-employed. It sounds, as Rylan might say, ‘Well dodge’. A good 50% of people have put ‘Songwriter’ down as their metier. I speculate that they’ve been on Ray’s course and this is part of his credo, something he’s taught them, call yourself a songwriter and you’ll be one. If I’d had to give a career, I would have made something up, like Session Man, Art Lover, Celluloid Hero, Headmaster, Young Conservative?

BBC Rant

In the aftermath of the BBC crisis, some old toff (wish I’d got his name) said:

‘The BBC is loved universally by everyone’.

Speak for yourself, mate. I’ve long lost any respect for a corporation that steals ideas from other channels (and often not very good ones) and regurgitates them with a non-populist stance (let’s face it, the BBC is an arm of the establishment) So, instead of Pop Idol, Fame Academy, where the judges get the final say, instead of The X Factor, The Voice. And what about all the dire cookery/home-improvement/antique/gardening programmes? Aren’t there enough of them already ? I only watch BBC4 for the music shows and The Killing. Why does the BBC waste money remaking a series such as Wallander, when the original was far superior? And those endless geodocumentaries, where some idiot is sent all over the place, up in a helicopter, down a mine, to Death Valley or the Arctic, to illustrate something that could have been shown just as easily in someone’s back garden. At our expense. Plus they’re responsible for the preponderance of Jamie Oliver, the original Mockney. The Reithian ideal of public-service broadcasting, which I always thought condescending, the rich and the titled educating the huddled masses, is completely anachronistic. It’s had its day.

Lola Vs cover

Anyway, back to the day

The tickets say there is disabled access but to call beforehand to ensure they can provide what you require. One of us has broken her leg so did this, was told there’d be no problem, just to make herself known on arrival. Having done so, is told that the studio is downstairs and there is no lift. As it is, it’s all eventually resolved (there is a lift) but it makes you wonder why they ask you to call in advance if nothing ever gets passed on? It’s as if each staff member exists in their own little vacuum.

Elevator Man

Eventually we’re taken in, a lift materialises (thanks to Maureen for all her help by the way – she was the only one who knew where the lift was) and are placed in a room to wait. We have to be accompanied everywhere, even in the tiny elevator. Much better than being outside as it had just started to rain and our friend needed to keep her plastercast dry in a binbag.

Almost Famous

When the others are allowed in (there's a long delay while sound problems are sorted out), they crane their necks to see us, thinking they’re going to get genuine celebrities chilling out in the green room (maybe with Ray); they’re so disappointed when all they get is us ordinary mortals. It’s like being in a goldfish bowl or rather a fancy aquarium; they expected to see exotic fish but got only tadpoles and pond scum.

Musical Chairs

The host, a personable chap called John Wilson, explains the programme format. It’s a reconsideration of two albums, Lola versus Powerman and the Moneygoround, Part 1 and Muswell Hillbillies.

Ray will be called upon to play certain songs or parts of songs throughout to aurally illustrate what they’re discussing. This entails Ray swapping seats continually and the stage is very small so almost immediately Ray knocks his ‘gargle’ over and has to ask for another. With all the shifting about, I can't help but wonder if it wouldn’t have been a better idea to record some songs in the first half and do the interview afterwards. Or, as they all have mikes, to address questions to Ray where he was.

Ray has his usual pulled-through-a-hedge-backwards look, or just-got-out-of-bed rumpledness. Skinny jeans and a baggy cardigan he might have borrowed from his girlfriend, with buttons he keeps fiddling with.

Ray and Bill 2012

‘Day after day I get up and I say, do it again’ (Do It Again)

They keep re-recording a promo for the Radio 4 website. Isn’t this something that they could edit in afterwards? And it seems a little silly that they should produce this retrospective on two albums and not even mention the Kinks BBC boxset. So, as is the nature of these things, we have to keep re-applauding as none of the staff seems capable of letting others know what they need or when. John Wilson fails to notice Ray putting his fingers in his ears and grimacing each time we clap. Songs/intros have to be played time and again and near the end, Ray and company (the ever ready, ever genial Bill Shanley and James Walbourne from the Dead Flamingoes) perform the whole of A Long Way from Home with the BBC not ready as they thought they were only rehearsing the beginning – luckily in this particular instance, the tape was left running although, as far as the music goes, we wouldn’t mind hearing this several times.

I can only compare this experience to an ITV show recording I went to a year ago, also a music performer, with a band, complicated choreography for at least eight dancers, different camera set-ups, interview segments.  Hardly anything went wrong despite all the tricky visual business.

(Having said that, just got back from a BBC Radio 2 show, showcasing the compositions of Marvin Hamlisch (again RIP) with an orchestra, singers, presenters, interviews and a host (Ken Bruce) and it ran like clockwork so perhaps it’s only certain parts of the organisation that need an overhaul.)

‘I got acute schizophrenia, paranoia too’ (Acute Schizophrenia Paranoia Blues)

During the interview, Ray comes up with what he thinks is a great title for a song but as usual plays his cards close to his chest and won't divulge it despite JW’s urging. 

So what do we learn?

Ray insists that he wasn’t the most visually appealing member of the Kinks, that Dave was prettier. It’s much of a muchness, babe. He says that Dave was also a better musician but being the principal songwriter brought him (Ray) to the fore.

Writing songs for other people

Ray confesses he’d like to do more of this and says that I Go to Sleep was commissioned for Peggy Lee. Her version (not my favourite) is on YouTube and when asked again, Ray explains that the bridge was written for her voice ('I was wrong, I will cry, I will love you to the day I die/You alone, you alone and no one else, you were meant for me'). All I know about Peggy Lee is that she voiced the female stray in The Lady and the Tramp, the shaggy one who sings He’s a Tramp. My Dad told me that. Oh and Fever, of course.

Perhaps John W should have read the Record Collector article. They unearthed this gem: Oh What a Day It’s Going to Be by Mo and Steve and mentioned the Cascades, Dave Berry and Barry Fantoni numbers, as well as some of the TV and film themes.

Ray’s favourite cover of a Kinks song

Stop Your Sobbing by the Pretenders.

A Long Way from Home

Ray pretends he can't remember who sang original lead. Slyly disingenuous as usual. Reading the Record Collector article (very well researched except that it does imply that John Dalton was one of the original Kinks), it’s apparent that Ray’s recall of detail is incredible.

John W has done his homework on the albums under consideration and asks which order the songs were written in although Ray has already told him by this time that Lola was written last. Inevitably he has to query the whereabouts of Part 2, and Ray admits to have various bits and pieces of songs on different formats somewhere, which will all need work to be retrieved, converted, played, altered. (A different answer to the one given in Record Collector.) Ray claims he needs the journalist character from X-Ray to sort it out for him. I’m sure people would be volunteering all over the shop but then he might lose control.

Ray and Dave Prizefight

Disappointingly, he has to ask those questions that Ray must think are inevitable. You know the ones: What was the genesis of Lola? Will he and Dave be working together again? Ray’s responses get ever more inventive. It's as if the interviewer is forever trying to take the main line while Ray is there to throw him off track, lead him down some delicious, derelict culvert. To the latter question, he says it’s like a boxing match between two great rivals – he names Sugar Ray (Leonard?) and someone else (sorry, this is from memory and mine is evidently not as good as Ray’s), that they could always go another round.

Just garnered the actual quote from the BBC website:

‘It’s like Rocky Graziano coming out for one last round with Sugar Ray Robinson.  You’ve gone fourteen rounds, you’ve got to come out for the fifteenth. You glaze over at the prospect but it’s the one round you just might win.’ John W then asked Ray when the bell might ring. The brothers are still, he said ‘in that long minute’ between rounds. Wonder what Dave would make of that. Maybe I can guess.

I’m reminded of something Dave said when asked if he could have seized control of the band from Ray at any point:

‘That’s the whole problem: I don't want control. He's the way he is, and I'm the way I am, and we're very different. My concepts about work, life, family and relationships are so much broader than Ray's. He's very suspicious of the way I think, and I'm very suspicious of the way he thinks. The idea of seizing control - it's so counter-productive.’

As you can see, it’s not so much that they’re not on a level playing field (is that a British phrase that means nothing to non-Brits?), it’s that Dave isn’t even on the field. Fighting for power doesn’t interest him. The problem is that Ray’s nature means that he has to take complete control when allowed a free hand. In order to have any say at all, you can't dip in and out, you have to commit if you're in a game or a match with Ray. Dave is not as competitive so he ends up opting out altogether but it seems unfair that, according to the rules of Ray’s game, he shouldn’t have any say at all when Dave not only fails to acknowledge the rules of the game but even that he’s in a game at all. It must be very frustrating for Ray. It reminds me of a line from Jackie Leven’s song of self-realisation, epiphany in Kilkenny, ‘Marble City Bar’: ‘Oh, don’t pick me cause I’m not playing’. I realise that I'm mixing my match metaphors here.

So, what I’m saying is, Dave would probably forfeit the fight.

It always makes me uncomfortable when someone tells Ray what he meant when he wrote a certain song or album. It just seems so presumptuous and I sense Ray is not sure about John Wilson’s theory that Muswell Hillbillies was written from the perspective of people in suburbia peering out from behind net curtains and he thinks it’s a really dark album. I never thought of it like this but will resist the urge to interpret.

Which song best represents Ray?

The Hard Way. No details are supplied but I bet numerous folk would agree.

Waterloo Sunset

Part of him would like to go back and correct the grammar of ‘I don’t need no friends’ but he realises that the song is perfect as it is.

Some of the questions from the crowd are silly, some insightful.

One claims that a Noah and the Whale (Life Goes On) song is a total rip-off of Lola. Ray says he’ll take action if necessary. It won't be. It sounds nothing like it. Ok, there are some minor Kinks connections – it has the same title as a Kinks song, it includes a lyric about a ‘rocknroll survivor’, they spell out the title as part of the chorus and perhaps it could be described as having a similar vibe but that’s really all.

Exterior of Archway Tavern, interior gatefold Muswell Hillbillies

Another asks why they used the Archway Tavern for the album cover, aren’t there any good pubs in Muswell Hill? Ray, rather than listing his favourite pubs in the area, explains the significance of the Archway being on an island and midway between where he and the rest of his family lived.

Is his writing influenced by film at all?

Ray talks about how he once went to see The Crimson Pirate (Burt Lancaster movie) five times in one week, as chaperone to one sister or another. He says he probably would not have come across the word ‘contender’ except for Marlon Brando’s character, Terry, in On the Waterfront, saying ‘I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody.’ Ray used it in the title of The Contenders. Another movie reference, although these days Ray seems to favour ‘film’ not ‘movie’, is in Acute Schizophrenia Paranoia Blues: ‘I’m lost on the river, the river of no return’, as well as the aforementioned Oklahoma USA.

Best moment of his career

Playing Madison Square Garden after the US ban and years in the wilderness. Validation. Vindication. Like Take That’s glorious return to Number One with their comeback single, Patience.

There must be some kind of way out of here …

I’m sure Ray wonders this several times during the interview and says something similar at one point.

In response to an enquiry as whether he ever worries that he won't be able to top a previous song (hmm, surely the breadth of his output has answered this already? He didn’t stop after Waterloo Sunset), Ray reveals that he embraces anxiety, saying: ‘Don’t be afraid of anxiety’ and the advice he gives to songwriters is ‘Don’t be afraid to fail’.

John W is astonished by Ray’s ability to remember the words to songs like Muswell Hillbilly and Twentieth-century Man, obviously unaware that Ray has been playing them almost nightly on the tour that he’s just completed. RD simply accepts the kudos here. In fact, the whole attitude is that Ray is someone who no longer writes, performs, tours, as if he’s been put out to pasture some time ago. We all know that Ray has a new album in the works (except for Ray who refused all my requests for a song from the new album on the tour, perhaps not ready to share any yet).

Complete tracklist, many of which we only heard part, in no particular order

Lola

This Time Tomorrow

A Long Way from Home

Muswell Hillbilly

Twentieth-century Man

Here Come the People in Grey

Got to Be Free

Heard later that the four people remaining outside after the others had given up, were sent away. I’m sure it wouldn’t have contravened any H&S rules to bring in four extra chairs. Have a heart next time, Auntie.

Just heard that the A side of the show will be broadcast on Monday 3 December 11.00 pm GMT.

Jackie Leven – Exit Wound

(This is a follow-up to my first piece on Jackie: The King of Love Has Died.)
‘i will be there beside you with my undiplomatic pain’
Watching ‘Single Father’, I feel tears in the back of my throat. Any song at any time, cheerful or mournful, can suddenly bring home to me that he’s gone; like learning it anew each time. ‘Another Man’s Rain’ has me sobbing for a minute before I pull myself together. I can forget for days at a time, especially if I don’t listen to any Jackie (but what kind of life is that?). When I do, sorrow resurfaces, like touching a bruise that just won't heal, like the scar in ‘Universal Blue’. My heart goes out to those who knew him well and must miss him exponentially more. But what I feel is also untainted by any personal experience of his flaws or failings – I only have the music and the memories of the gigs, always so amazing.

Yesterday, it was ‘God’s Children’ by the Kinks. Today, for some reason, it’s ‘Father and Son’ by Cat Stevens. And so what do I do? Play it again of course.

bittersweet – better late than never?
Somehow the belated recognition of Jackie’s genius seems to make his loss harder to bear, not easier. They didn’t want him when he was alive; he was ours then (I mean, ‘of us’); what do they want with him now? Our Jackie, who could find the romance in ‘burned-out cars’ and make a line like this sound hauntingly beautiful, through the grace of the melody and the tenderness of his vocal. Who could recognise that in the midst of death, we are in life: ‘A flower struggles through the steel’.

Part of me feels he’s merely a bandwagon for these Guardian or BBC dilettantes, hostages to the Zeitgeist, I call them, to jump on until the next thing comes along. You know the type, the people who, two records down the line, ‘discover’ the Fleet Foxes after the publicist has got to them and cut their hair, trimmed their beards, made them more palatable to the masses. Oh and after they’ve won a clutch of awards. Or who adore ‘The Wire’ because it’s so true to life, so real, having never been to Baltimore or anywhere similar, but who nevertheless feel qualified to pass judgement from their town houses in Kensington and Chelsea. (But, even if they had been there, they would have been booked into a four-star hotel in an upmarket neighbourhood, by some flunky at the office, taken cabs everywhere – God forbid that they should be exposed to public transport or to a millimetre of the seedy underbelly of the city.) They need everything validated by a critic in a paper or some style guru before they can like it themselves. Never really sure of their own opinions, they cite other people’s to vindicate their tastes. To quote Ray Davies (well, you know me) singing about the same phenomenon at a different time: ‘Your style, your views/Straight from The London Illustrated News/You speak your mind/Once you have read it in The Times’ (‘Who Do You Think You Are?’). My sister would cite (and has cited) those who suddenly thought Pulp were cool once ‘Common People’ became a hit, at the time when the rest of us believed they had become a parody of themselves, revisiting and rehashing something they’d done much better before. Perhaps they’re the sort who talk about iconic images. An icon is an image, you idiots. Who are always up to date with the latest fashions (what is current in nail design) and can spout designers at your blank face. To them, being hip is the ultimate goal. Yes, I’m selfish. I don’t want them to have him. They’re immune to the realness of Jackie because their lives are so effortfully ersatz. Their albeit fleeting interest devalues him somehow. But I suppose that appreciation is appreciation regardless of how someone got there and I know that there are genuine admirers among the journalists out there who’ve liked him for years and haven’t simply dropped in for one album or one gig, then hitched their horses to the next wagon.

I’m not saying it’s a crime to start liking something late in the day – I’ve just got into the Kinks so I’m pretty far behind the times. But at least I recognise I’m late. Oh, I think you know what I’m saying.

And I don’t really want Jackie to be considered alongside the ranks of those who become posthumously famous because this would put him in the same company as Eva Cassidy, whose anodyne, passionless versions of beautiful songs leave me cold, and Jeff Buckley, talented I’m sure but rather a one-trick pony. Jackie deserves a more discerning audience.

two tiny selves sleep (doll by doll)
Having been introduced to them early, I realise it is possible that I viewed (and heard) all music through the prism of Doll by Doll: ‘Eternal’, depthless ‘Grand Passion’, absolute extremes, that elemental quality that reaches into my very marrow: ‘That’s something my soul understands’ (‘Hey Sweetheart’). And maybe it ruined life for me by raising my expectations. But musically, how was I to fall prey to the retrogressive, rock-by-numbers of the Fearne Cotton age where everything is ‘amazing’ no matter how dated or derivative – from the Stone Roses and the Happy Mondays via Oasis to the Arctic Monkeys, Kasabian, the Kaiser Chiefs and the pomp and circumstance of Coldplay? How could I marvel at Ellie Goulding’s ‘voice’ when I didn’t hear a voice but an affected, watered-down whine, transforming a perfect pop song into a dreary dirge? But true talent transcends time, place, race, all those demographics. In ten years’ time, we’ll still be listening to Jackie but, hopefully, no one will remember Ellie Goulding. I say Ellie Goulding but it could just as easily be Lily Allen, Kate Nash, James Morrison, James Blunt and so forth. I’m not saying that collectively they have no talent, only that collectively they couldn’t hold a candle to Jackie.

‘marble city bar’
Listen to the extraordinarily powerful live version with the long introduction in which Jackie builds our anticipation by punctuating the story in which he recognises his own arrogance with the beautiful thrashing of his guitar and singing ‘Kilkenny, Kilkenny, Kilkenny’ each time he mentions the place as if it were an instruction to the audience: ‘Kill Kenny!’ Sublime crescendo. Such vehemence. Unforgettable. He could make believers of us all.

'midwinter in a minor key’
Listening to One Long Cold Morning, I can't help but feel that these songs were written, if not post-diagnosis, at least with the presentiment that all was not well. There’s a sense of assessment, acceptance, an ineffable sadness and an air of inevitable adieu, although this is all leavened with humour as ever.

music in ‘the word’
Pleased with the free CD. Although I would have chosen completely different songs to represent Jackie, the Twitter response shows that these will work just as well. It’s simply a testament to the breadth and quality of his output. Previously, I only had ‘Poortoun’ and ‘Another Man’s Rain’ live and, while I’ve been the first to champion Jackie’s peerless live performances, the studio versions, particularly of the former, do allow for nuances and delicacy that don’t always fully translate live. ‘Universal Blue’, on the other hand, sounds almost cheerful as if Jackie’s reached a point of philosophical resignation, a world away from the particularly trenchant rendition I’m used to on Deep in the Heart of Nowhere, in which each word is bitten off with venom: bleak, raw and uncompromising and as a result, heart-rending (or heart-rendering as a friend puts it – perhaps we should all have our hearts rendered in the first instance as it means ‘to apply a coat of plaster or cement directly to’; it would make these exit wounds easier to bear). Some songs, which are essentially the same as on a previous release, like ‘Men in Prison’, have a different (and in this instance, more poignant) resonance in this new context (of the CD and of its occasion). The sauntering swing of ‘Night Lilies’ matches the bad boy Jackie of old – ‘I live among lost men with winding down lives/I sleep on their sofas and feel up their wives’. Typically, Jackie manages to be clever, irreverent, honest, funny and profound.

I would have definitely included one of the following three tracks though: ‘Shadow in My Eye’, for its stripped-back simplicity and drama or the epic saga of ‘Call Mother a Lonely Field’, with Jackie’s voice omnipotent, the guitar answering the fourth line of the verse, like sunlight glittering on water. Jackie was an alchemist with the guitar. He could turn all to gold. [In a previous blog, I said he was a one-man choir but, with a guitar, he was a one-man orchestra. On these tracks, there are other instruments and backing vocals – the sound is full but, solo live, it would seem as if there were phantom musicians on the stage, playing alongside him; difficult to believe that he alone could create such a variety of sound.] Or ‘The Garden’, the reward of the sweeping chorus held off till the end, keeps a promise made by the verse; like wrestling through a dark tangle of briars to discover the perfect rose, or driving through the night and hearing Grieg’s ‘Morning’ from Peer Gynt at a resplendent dawn, the sad resignation of the words mitigated by the stirring melody, the message a reminder to us all.

We only ever get one rose in our overgrown garden and this is it.

words in ‘the word’
Informative and sensitive, Paul Du Noyer is obviously a longterm Jackie aficionado. I never knew Jackie’s real name was Alan Moffatt. Doesn’t have quite the same ring.

I was initially surprised by what Deborah had to say about fans (as if we were an amorphous mass proliferating discontent): ‘There was this view from fans that they almost wanted to see him suffering. They wanted to see him get wildly drunk … because that was their image of who they wanted’ but through later experience, I came to understand her completely although I don't think any fan of Jackie’s would want him to suffer in any way, for any reason. Jackie didn’t seem the sort to believe all that ‘I must suffer for my art’ baloney. I don't think he had to go in search of trouble, conflict or drama to write about. As Deborah says herself, he could probably create something magical and insightful on his failure to mend a fence. Anything could be grist for the mill of his imagination. It’s possible I suppose that people who knew him well might have encouraged or colluded in over-indulgence but with no intent to harm I’m sure.

‘fairytales for hardmen’
If you hadn’t heard any Jackie and simply read all the tributes, you might be left with the impression that he was a dour character, hard-living, hard-drinking (well that part may be true) with a troubled past, whose focus was on loss, pain and loneliness, that all this doom-laden introspection would lead you to depression and despair when exactly the opposite is the case. Jackie’s music isn’t like a Ken Loach movie, all gritty realism and futility (although these aren’t absent); it’s incredibly uplifting and joyful. Jackie has faced his demons, recognised and/or conquered them, with humour and grace. There’s wisdom, understanding, acceptance, even triumph. The music leads us into the light. I have to be grateful that we got as much of Jackie as we did, that he was so creative, so prolific, that he shared his heart and soul through his music and so allowed us all a glimpse of glory.

easter
Planning on joining the Botley motley crew for the get-together in Easter to celebrate and remember Jackie with like minds. This’ll be my first time. I’m sure there are people who can't conceive of going when they’re used to Jackie being there with them but I’m hoping it will help to share experiences, memories and emotions, walk, talk and explore.

some solace from Swinburne
From too much love of living,
From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be
That no man lives forever,
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea.

Other Leven blogs can be found at The King of Love Has Died, I Never Saw the Movie,  Jackie Leven and Adventures in Levenland.