Grant Hart Live: Milton, Sputnik, Burroughs, Amtrak and Apollinaire

William S. Burroughs

Links in song titles as usual.

Last time we saw Grant, he played a blistering show with the Burn Burning at the Monto, Water Rats. It was amazing to hear him with a full band again but tonight he’s solo once more, again promoting The Argument, his musical take on William Burroughs’s truncated version of John Milton’s Paradise Lost. Grant is not afraid of a concept or a broad canvas or a mythical theme. The songs on this album I think of as those ‘details taken from a painting’ postcards you get and I was hoping to hear a good few tonight. I wasn’t disappointed. Haven’t got the album yet and heard that Grant had some to sell but never saw any.

The Miller at London Bridge

The Miller is a pub a stone’s throw from the Shard side of London Bridge, easy for us to get to from South London. Big, rambling and full of nooks and crannies, with the pleasant and efficient bar staff all in Hallowe’en-themed costumes. The gig takes place in an upstairs room with a stage, a couple of tables and a few bar stools. See some familiar faces from previous Grant gigs. Learn that there are two support acts and Grant should be on at 10pm. I usually like to cut to the chase but my sister is less jaded so we go up to listen. Had a brief chat with Grant while they were playing but forgot I had cotton wool in my ears and couldn't hear him properly. Grant, ever the joker, claimed he had come as the infamous, elusive graffiti artist Banksy – no one knows what he looks like. He looks well, still has tons of thick black hair, some pulled back in a ponytail. If he dyes it, he’s doing a great job.

Early days

Bold Things from Ireland start the warm-up. They collect the firewood. Their songs are pleasant enough. They have a lot of tall twenty-something fans who stand right in front of us. Next up are Le Deux Furieuses. (I think it should be Les Deux Furieuses, girls.) They light the taper. They look distinctly art collegey but after a deal of preparation, involving back projection and a carved and lit-up pumpkin, we’re smacked by a sonic onslaught, which would probably have terrified the fans of Bold Things but which is welcomed by die-hard Hüsker fans. I end up quite admiring them and I think they’re surprised by the crowd’s positive reaction.

Grant today

When Grant eventually takes the stage to stoke the flames, he’s a little frustrated by some problems with a borrowed amp and is unimpressed generally as they are unable to turn off a strobe effect that’s giving him vertigo, saying something like it’s great if you enjoy taking it up the ass every night (don’t quote me on that) but, after jokingly offering people their money back (the audience demurs, won't be pulled down by the undertow, buoys Grant up with its enthusiasm), the show goes on. It must be so difficult travelling, using the equipment to hand, organising everything yourself, dependent on the goodwill, courtesy and commonsense of venues and other bands.

I’m not going through the whole setlist; I’ll post it at the end, just mention certain songs. Suffice to say that Grant could play and sing some of these songs perfectly in his sleep and it’s always good to hear them. You know the ones I mean.

'Hey, are you sure you're not taking my picture?'

There’s something about the next three songs that reminds me of the rhythm of the sea – constant but ever-changing, the same but always different, waves crashing against a beach; the way a lyric or refrain is repeated/altered. 

You’re the Reflection of the Moon on the Water

Always a rousing opener: inspired by this comment from a monk about a possible candidate for the next Panchen Lhama, ‘He is the reflection of the moon on the water but he is not the moon’, i.e. something lesser than the real thing, the truth but not the whole truth. The verses are variations on this theme: the insistence and repetition reinforce the point, like the sea rushing headlong to shore, the fourth line of each stanza a diminishing of the first three, like the backwash of the tide.

You’re the reflection of the moon on the water/You’re the reflection of the moon on the water/You’re the reflection of the moon on the water/But you’re not the moon

You are the scent of the sea on the night wind/You are the scent of the sea on the night wind/You are the scent of the sea on the night wind/But you’re not the sea

You are the shadows from the light of a fire/You are the shadows from the light of a fire/You are the shadows from the light of a fire/But you’re not the light

You are the sound of the rain on the dry earth/You are the sound of the rain on the dry earth/You are the sound of the rain on the dry earth/But you’re not the rain

Sputnik 1

Is the Sky the Limit?

Grant dedicates this to Lou Reed (RIP) as ‘another satellite’ song – the song was built around the beeps from Sputnik, Lou Reed’s is of course Satellite of Love. I’ve got to love a song that uses the word ‘apogee’. Another charming, infectious melody; insistent, repetitive – an ocean tide.

Is the sky the limit?/What is the apogee?/

Is the sky the limit/For me?/

I only wish to love you/For you to notice me/

Now I dread how limited I can be

Golden Chain

This is the gentler ebb and flow of a calmer sea. Becalmed.

The earth it hangs on a golden chain/
The earth it hangs on a golden chain

Paradise Lost

The songs he plays from The Argument are liberally interspersed with older material throughout the set and work as standalone tracks as well as to illustrate aspects of the story, as if you simply focused in on a character and his thoughts/intentions. Grant is able to slip between viewpoints and in and out of musical styles.

This quote from Pitchfork sums it up:

But the great thing about The Argument is that, not only does it make a Hüsker Dü reformation seem like an evermore remote possibility, it makes the whole prospect that much more undesirable and unnecessary. 

California Zephyr

Upbeat song about riding the rails. It’s such a romantic thing to do, not ride the rails but name your trains, and so evocatively too. Unfortunately using Amtrak is anything but a romantic experience. Only did it once and there was a twelve-hour delay!

Then a cab to the Bay Bridge Inn/

They check you out while they check you in

Milton by way of Burroughs by way of Hart

Shine, Shine, Shine

That fairground organ on the album track – let’s get on the merry go round. A sparkling Christmas bauble of a song.

We enjoy the life ideal/Running naked through the fields/

There’s no shame/No secrets unrevealed

Remains to Be Seen

Another song rife with connotations and literary allusions and a lilting refrain. It’s ostensibly about the remains of Apollinaire but with Grant, there’s always another level (and I’m not talking defunct British boyband). Here’s a little extract from a chat I had with Grant when this song was new:

I had been reading the life story of Apollinaire, … in the context of like viewing somebody at a funeral or ‘all that’s left’, only an outline … when they circle the body and things like that and I didn’t change anything … on … the studio recording of it because it’s nice that it bear those other meanings as well.

Supposing, too much to assume/Saying nothing but speaking volumes
Silence broken with shattering sounds/Books for no one, where are they bound?

So Far from Heaven

Grant asks the audience to ‘pucker up’ to whistle along and it’s fantastic how many of them can a) whistle b) know the tune c) actually whistle in tune. Grant has been playing this live for ages so I was surprised that it was part of the Paradise Lost project.

What is it you’re seeking?/What would be your prize?

Is it no fair peeking?/If I look past your disguise

Someone requests Letting Me Out but Grant reacts as if he’s called ‘Let Me Out’ and says ‘The door’s over there’.

2541

During this, an over-enthusiastic fan sings along off-key and very loudly (I find the two usually go together at gigs) and Grant notices and has to choose something that the guy doesn’t know next.

Oh well I put down the money/When I picked up the keys/

We had to keep the stove on all night long/So the mice wouldn't freeze

A shy woman asks my sister to pass Grant a note for her. It says ‘Please play All of My Senses’. His response: ‘Boring’. There are some songs Grant must be sick of performing (the die-hard Husker fans inevitably ask for the same ones and occasionally he obliges) but this isn’t one I’ve ever heard him try live.

Another song he never plays, out of respect, because it’s hard to separate the song from its provenance, is Diane but for those who called for it at the Miller, here’s a fantastic version from Sao Paulo. Sends chills through me.

Less suspicious

The Main

A crowd pleaser. This sounds like and works well as a sea shanty (on the 'high' main) while the lyrics also tell a story about drug dependency (mainlining), with a litany of red-light districts – Reeperbahn, Christiane, Pigalle (coincidentally always the location of our hotel whenever we travel) – and references to De Quincey and Christ. As the makers of Every Everything no doubt discovered, Grant is knowledgeable on many subjects but what astonishes me is the way he’s able to crystallise ideas and images into lyric and melody.

There was life on the corner/And death all around/…

Reeperbahn, Christiane, Pigalle, all the same/On the main, the main, remember your name

The song I wanted him to play (I Knew All about You since Then) is a great example of this talent and his Mary Poppins-style approach – a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down. Trenchant put-downs in wordplay encased in a sunny little tune so you’re suck(er)ed in without realising.

Letter from Anne-Marie

This was my belated alternative request because Grant couldn’t play the original one, for very good reasons. This video is from the actual night.

With her family far and in a family way/Well she told me that she missed 'em
It's hard to keep in touch/With just the US postal system

Grant changes the lyrics each time, this time he sings ‘useless social system’. It’s one of the things I love about him – a gig can go in any direction at any time – he keeps it fresh and the night is entirely dependent on his mood and how he interacts with the audience.

Green Eyes

Still shimmeringly pretty even when slowed down and infused with bitterness as in this ‘mid-life crisis version’ from Zurich.

It's a great big world/There's a million other guys

I feel so lucky when I look/In those green eyes

Grant’s voice still has that pure tone, clarion-clear (as in this version of Don’t Want to Know if You Are Lonely; a burst of breathless energy); he still has that facility to fashion a memorable tune, his lyrics still blend the everyday with the erudite and I’m left pondering that eternal question. Bjorn and Benny put it better:

I've often wondered, how did it all start?
Who found out that nothing can capture a heart
Like a melody can?

Have guitar, will travel ...

Mercurial, maverick, articulate, undaunted, Grant Hart may be coming to a town near you – catch him if you can. 

The Argument is available on Domino Records and from Amazon of course.

Setlist from the Miller, London 31 October 2013

You’re the Reflection of the Moon on the Water

Admiral of the Sea came in here somewhere

California Zephyr

Is the Sky the Limit?

(From The Argument)

Shine, Shine, Shine

(From The Argument)

Awake, Arise!

(From The Argument)

Girl Who Lives on Heaven Hill

Remains to Be Seen

Never Talking to You Again

The Main

You Are the Victim

So Far from Heaven

(From The Argument)

Letter from Anne-Marie

Golden Chain

(From The Argument)

Pink Turns to Blue

Underneath the Apple Tree

(From The Argument)

Green Eyes

She Floated Away

Ray Davies: 'It's really been quite a trip': Life on the Road 2012

In a Moment at the Fairfield Halls

Is this really it?/Is this the final station?/It's really been quite a trip (Imaginary Man)
So, Ray's UK tour is over, the dates have had him zigzagging all over the country, back and forth, coming back to the London area three separate times. I would be exhausted but Ray seems to thrive on this frantic schedule and have boundless energy and adrenalin. 

And still all the critics keep saying/Are they still around?/When are they gonna stop? (The Road)

I’ve been moved to respond to some reviews of Ray’s gigs because it seems that we’re being infiltrated by incredibly shallow people who want us to follow some code of what is/isn’t appropriate, some kind of Style Stasi. And isn’t this the exact antithesis of what the Kinks and Ray were always about? These criticisms often relate to age and often to fashion, something I consider the biggest waste of time ever. Wear whatever suits you and what you’re comfortable in. For a non-Kinks-related example, when the Olympics were on, I read a whole article in a daily paper bemoaning the fact that gymnasts still thought it was ok to wear scrunchies, which went out with the 80s. Let’s not concentrate on their extraordinary talent or ability, let’s worry about what they put their hair up with. Could it be any more fatuous? 

Underneath this crude exterior/She knows I got something superior (Hidden Quality)

Apparently when you get to your late 60s, it’s unseemly to wear trainers or do star/scissor jumps on stage. You should really mellow out and sit on a stool and wear a cardigan. Well Ray Davies does all of the above (except he saves the cardigan till later). Some people break the mould. I’m the same although my experience has led me to believe that I’m a lot less like everybody else than everybody else is. I’ve done some pretty strange things in my time (exorcised a TV cabinet, made an in-flight announcement on an aeroplane, been stranded in New Jersey with only one odd shoe and $13.50) and have failed to do many things my contemporaries have, such as acquire a taste for red wine or even beer, start to hold dinner parties, care about home décor and cooking. Not yet domesticated. I still dance although no longer a teenager. Actually teenagers are way too cool to dance, unless it’s affected with extreme irony.

Ray's response to the critics: 

But I won't give it up/As long as I can make the bread/When I do, I shall stop/Close my eyes and go to bed. (All Night Stand)

From a blog review:‘His white trainers suggest that he isn’t the Dedicated Follower of Fashion he once was.’

This rather misses the whole point of the song. Ray wasn’t the dedicated follower of fashion – he was affectionately taking the piss out of him (and possibly brother Dave although both have worn some outlandish but still appealing ensembles in their time, Ray’s outfit in this version of Skin and Bone a case in point). In fact, Dedicated started out as a riposte to a designer who criticised Ray’s flares. As usual, he answered with a song.

Spotlight: Oklahoma USA

She walks to work but she's still in a daze/She's Rita Hayworth or Doris Day/And Errol Flynn's gonna take her away. 

The story behind this song, described in my last blog reminds me of my Mum. I think she believed that one day a great romance would find her, à la Some Enchanted Evening, that she would catch the eye of Rossano Brazzi across a crowded room. And I can't be the only person who watches a movie and walks out of the theatre imagining for a few minutes that I look like one of the protagonists. I used to be a great proponent of escapism, a devotee, fantasy has reality beat every time but now I wonder if cinema in the old days was ‘the opium of the masses’, how it unwittingly kept everyone in a drudge-like job in their Dead End Street.

Royal Albert Hall 4 October 2012

Bashful has blogged on this so I haven’t much to add. When we get up to dance, no one stops us but when people move to the front, the security men are determined to make them sit down again, courteously tapping people on the shoulder one by one; they win a few skirmishes but they don’t ultimately win the war. Great sound at the concert. I’ve only been to the RAH once before, when we bought our Dad and a friend tickets to see the Moody Blues and we were so high up and over to the side that it actually gave you vertigo to look down and we couldn’t see all of the stage. This time we're in the second row right at the front.

Extras: Paul Weller joins Ray for Waterloo Sunset, which seems to be in the wrong key for him. Starts off shaky but sounds better by the end. I never noticed that his voice is a little like Grant Hart’s before. Ray plays Twentieth-century Man and includes Days in the encore so we can't complain. The same T-shirts as at Canterbury cost £5 more. How’s that for London weighting?

Ray at Fairfield Halls

Fairfield Halls, Croydon 10 October 2012

Here, after we’ve navigated the urban wasteland (well it wasn’t but I like that term), crossed the tram tracks, and traversed the car-park and met some fans in the bar, we discover that there’s a long queue to get in to see the support act. I start to worry that there’s going to be airport-type security checks and that my camera and water bottle will be confiscated. My camera is large and professional-looking (unlike me) but no more powerful than that on most people’s cell phones. I couldn’t tape a whole song even if I wanted to because the files are too huge to upload anywhere. However, my fears are unwarranted; the delay was due to a late sound-check.

James and Kami seem very relaxed tonight. They’ve got married (to each other) since we last saw them. But at the next gig, he’s by himself … Hope Kami's not honeymooning alone.

Decide to risk the paper plates but stage is too far to spontaneously throw them on during the performance so I neatly place them around where I assume Ray will be (by the cup of tea or voice-saving concoction in the cup-holder on the mike stand – does everything have cup-holders these days? Perhaps we should genetically engineer children to come with them? How handy would that be?) The security man wanders past twice to check what I’ve done but decides they pose no viable threat. He must think I’m simply some harmless nutter who randomly dispenses disposable picnic-ware at rock gigs. Perhaps he thinks I’ll be back later with sandwiches.

Ray at Fairfield Halls

So the gig proceeds much as Canterbury and the RAH except that we get up to dance, and the people in the front row (friends from the Kinkdom), arise too. They move to the front of the stage. This precipitates our ungainly scramble over the seats in front to join them.

Special treats: Ray opts to play Apeman, which he says he might not have played live since the last time he played Croydon. Croydon does tend to bring out the Neanderthal in all of us. When in Rome … only kidding, guys. So infectious and I was really longing to hear it. We also get Tired of Waiting for You, which he didn’t play at the first two shows we went to and the whole of ‘Victoria’ instead of just a snippet. Excellent.

No scissor jumps tonight – just upward leaps, legs together. Hope Ray hasn’t given himself a groin strain.

A Face/Voice in the Crowd

More enthusiastic but unfortunately also more out-of-key and out-of-time singing here than anywhere else so far. One lady doesn’t know the words so just about picks up the lyric at the end of each line and I hear the last word repeated a beat after in a flat echo.

Ray at Nottingham

Royal Concert Hall, Nottingham 14 October 2012

Our non-Kinks friends seem a little frightened of meeting our Kinks friends for some reason. Have we made them sound like raving lunatics? I don't think so. And one of the non-Kinks ones collects Action Men and is in the process of swapping some hands for some feet in the post. Miniature body parts in little plastic bags. Who has the most to fear?

Undeterred, I recycle the paper plates (surely Ray would approve) and add another one, hoping to hear Celluloid Heroes as it has surfaced at other shows. We get I Need You instead. Does Ray look at my request and think ‘Hmm. What can I play that’s the total opposite of that?’ 

Let's sing it loud with feeling/Come on, one more time (One More Time)

By the time Ray reaches Nottingham, his voice is a little hoarse and there are a couple of slightly off-key notes right at the start but he’s able to compensate by altering the key or taking the pitch down or just changing the phrasing so a long note becomes a short one, or simply encouraging the crowd to sing all of the chorus, etc. A master at work.

Misfits at Marlowe Theatre, Canterbury 

Now you're lost in the crowd/Yet, still go your own way

Ray mentions that Mick was a boy scout and still has his uniform. Mick wasn’t a boy scout; he was a sea scout. I love the way Ray’s always slightly misinformed. I get the idea that he’s deliberately imprecise about things, or rather precise in his errors (like in ‘X-Ray’ when he insists that Dave was caught in flagrante by his headmaster rather than the truant officer) because he perceives his alterations strengthen the story or make the joke funnier. Weirdly, tonight he misses out You Really Got Me. Plus there's the mystery of the reappearing lisp.

So to summarise, we did get variations in the set over the course of the tour. Some nights Ray played Celluloid Heroes but I never got to hear it. This and other songs that were played at some shows but not all, were Tired of Waiting for You, Too Much on My Mind, Victoria, Apeman, Full Moon, Misfits, I Need You, Twentieth-century Man.

I think it’s curious which Kinks songs Dave and Ray opt to play – some are the same, especially the early ones. Dave tends to leave out Waterloo Sunset, Autumn Almanac and Lola. Ray doesn’t play any Dave songs though I’m sure he could do a creditable version of Strangers or even Living on a Thin Line, which Dave originally wrote for him. Neither plays Well Respected Man. Dave will do Get Back in the Line but Ray won't.

Although both have assembled great musicians to back them, who know the catalogue really well, there isn’t that sense that anything might happen, that I think people experienced at a Kinks gig. Of course this could be good or bad but always memorable I'm sure. Dave says in Kinkdom K/Come:

‘Ray and I were magicians without realising it’ that they could look at each other on stage and ‘the whole atmosphere will change’. You can see this in some YouTube clips. They play off each other, wind each other up, piss each other off and spur each other on. Ray admited at the recent Radio 4 Mastertapes recording that he would deliberately antagonise Dave and then Dave would play something exceptional, on stage and in the studio.

He also talked about how the Kinks were like family (one of them was of course), how they had one another’s backs. It reminds me of my family when we were growing up. We would argue with each other a lot, maybe appear to hate one another but when it came down to it, it was always us against the world.

I suppose what I’m saying is that the ideal, if we assume that Ray and Dave playing together is far less likely than Bobby and JR ever seeing eye to eye (maybe scratch that analogy after this week's episode of Dallas), would be to see one play one night and one the next. Dave is much more likely to deviate from the list than Ray is, attempting a song without rehearsal, without remembering the lyrics, so there’s still an element of surprise.

[All 2012 images and video are mine.]

Ray Davies Live 2012: The Canterbury Tale

Canterbury and Croydon shows are missing from this flyer

So, for those unable to make it to a solo Ray show, here’s one he made earlier. Spoiler alert for those yet to attend one. I went to four (which I thought excessive until I met fans who were doing many more). They were all similar and all different, the shows not the fans – no, actually both were.

The duo Dead Flamingoes (James Walbourne and Kami Thompson) open most nights. James Walbourne is in the Pretenders line-up, with Ray’s ex, Chrissie Hynde so perhaps that’s how they connected.

I’m not sure that this name is right for them. It makes them sound more like a comedy double act than anything with serious intent. I wonder if it were adopted as a joke. I suppose Dying Flamingoes would be worse. It certainly doesn’t do their country-style songs, lovely harmonies, passionate and intricate guitar work justice. I particularly like the song they tend to start with, ‘Bonnie Portmore’; it reminds me of early Fleet Foxes. Having listened to some tracks on the net, I can report that the DFs sound better live: louder, more committed.

James Walbourne wrestles his guitar, with a pained expression, for all the world as if it’s a recalcitrant cat which has decided it no longer wants to be picked up and is doing everything it can, including scratching, to escape his arms. It takes all his effort to contain it. But he sure can play that cat.

At Nottingham, he appeared alone. I was disappointed that he didn’t introduce himself as ‘a Dead Flamingo’.

This review will be too long if I include all the shows we saw so I’ll start with the first one we went to, also the first of the tour, and see how I go.

Ray Davies and Band at the Marlowe Theatre, Canterbury 30 September 2012

Here (and later at the Royal Albert Hall), there were some slow handclaps when Ray failed to materialise exactly on schedule, a few more elderly audience members possibly being better accustomed to the rigid timetabling of the residential care home than the vagaries and unpredictability of a rock concert. No, seriously, they weren't that old, just a bit impatient.

Ray’s entrance follows a particularly annoying piece of frantic music with revved-up trumpet blasts on the otherwise dreary warm-up tape (which actually makes me want to blow my brains out on fifth hearing at Canterbury, and so enter the territory of a Kami Thompson song about suicide, ‘Hold Your Fire’).

After the applause has died down, he says ‘That’s alright for Bill but what about me?’, initiating a second burst.

The shows follow a standard format, with variations on a theme, according to audience input and how Ray’s feeling. Usually Ray performs some songs unplugged, with Bill Shanley before the rest of the band make their appearance.

Nobody dances or even gets up and I start to feel like a volatile patient in a hospital ward, strapped to the bed, who keeps trying to rise, except the restraints are regrettably self-imposed. Why do I do this to myself?

By the second show, I’m able to recognise most songs by Ray’s introductions.

Ray starts with:

This Is Where I Belong (The line ‘Tell me now if you want me here to stay’ warrants crowd confirmation, but at many of these shows, this is only realised by the front two rows so that intimate connection isn’t made. It's a beautiful song, sensitively performed.)

Audience participation is de rigueur on the choruses of the next two numbers, reconfigured as vaudeville turns here:
Autumn Almanac (‘Roast beef on Sundays/Alright’ usually accompanied by a line such as ‘I take it you’re all meat eaters then?’, the response in Croydon prompting him to alter it to ‘Nut roast on Sundays’)

Dedicated Follower of Fashion (Introduced as an old English folk song, occasionally sung in the style of Johnny Cash, along with the reminder that ‘That’s dedicated, not medicated’.)

Admittedly, some Kinks songs Ray always treated as singalongs – see these 1973 performances of ‘Dedicated’ and ‘Lola' – and the audience was often slow to pull its weight. I really don’t mind it on the choruses but sometimes, given a little encouragement, it gets out of hand and you can imagine yourself at some kind of old-style Cockney ‘knees-up’. Plus Ray’s in fine voice and I would rather hear him.

In a Moment (Introduced as a new song for all the insomniacs out there and I say again, 2007 is not new, honey, when you have an album in the pipeline, still lovely though. Ray mentions that the album, Working Man’s Café, was recorded in Nashville. I wish he would play more of his solo material live – The Real World, Vietnam Cowboys, so many of these songs deserve attention. Dave mixes it up more at his Satsang shows but then he’s assured of a receptive group of people who don't only know the Kinks 60s and 70s hits – I’m afraid that Ray has made the right assessment of the majority of the people here tonight.)

See My Friends (Ray’s ‘gay’ song. Still defeats me as to why when he’s written many ‘gayer’ ones.)

The Kinks as the audience remembers them

Sunny Afternoon (Ray claims he wrote this as a joke. Cue more singalong and Ray gets to say the line that he’s been using since the early 70s, ‘If you don't know it, learn it’.)

Dead End Street (The band come on and join in during this and sound pretty excellent and things start to get rowdy for the next three songs.)

Time to introduce the band who are absolutely excellent. Both Dave and Ray are adept at choosing people to accompany them. We have Bill Shanley on lead guitar, former Kink Ian Gibbons on keyboards (and accordion), Richard Nolan on bass and
Damon Wilson on drums.

Till the End of the Day (Still sounds so vital.)

Where Have All the Good Times Gone? (A crowd pleaser whether with Dave, Ray or the Kast-offs.)

I'm Not Like Everybody Else (Expected more reaction from the crowd but this song doesn’t have the same resonance with UK audiences as it does in the US where it was featured in The Sopranos and found a new lease of life live.)

Waterloo Sunset at Marlowe Theatre

Waterloo Sunset (A request from the stands that Ray immediately obliges unlike any of mine.) (Describing this as a secret song that he didn’t want to share, it doesn’t seem to matter where he plays it, in front of how many people, the Olympics closing ceremony, for instance, it always retains a certain atmosphere of intimacy. Invoking us to do the ‘shalalas’ makes us feel part of something great, this triumphant paean to London. He usually follows the lines ‘As long as they gaze on Waterloo sunset/They are in paradise’ with ‘And so am I’ and somehow manages to sound completely sincere each time and his voice is perfect, delicate, evocative.)

Lola era Ray

Too Much on My Mind (On a par with Dave’s version at Satsang.)

Mentions his See My Friends collaboration, ‘managing other people’s egos’, etc. when introducing the next song and meeting a pretty blonde in cowboy boots, Lucinda Williams, who chose to cover it.

A Long Way from Home (points out that this was directed at Dave, a way of saying ‘Why don’t you just fuck off?’ at which point I call out ‘He loves you too’ but he doesn’t hear me – probably just as well. The lyrics and melody capture Ray’s wistful regret.)

Lola (Bill Shanley reproduces Dave’s guitar riff. The crowd oblige with backing vocals.)

It would be impossible to reflect the sheer diversity of the Kinks output in one show plus we would need more instruments so Ray chooses to showcase a couple of albums here: Muswell Hillbillies and Sleepwalker. These slightly lesser-known songs are a little taster of what’s out there. He could choose two different albums each night and I would still want more.

So James Walbourne (also from Muswell Hill, accompanies Ray for:

Muswell Hillbilly

and

Oklahoma USA at Marlowe Theatre

Oklahoma USA (Great to hear both of these, one jaunty, Ray’s voice way more tuneful than it is on the rather flat, whiny LP version, the guitars ramping it up into a good ole country romp, the other a beautifully plangent ballad about how going to ‘the pictures’ allowed Ray’s sister Rose to escape the drudgery of factory life. Music helped the Davies boys evade a similar fate.)

Misfits (I wasn’t expecting Ray to play this and find it really moving.)

Full Moon (Complete with howls from Ray and enthused reception from the Americans at least.) 

Come Dancing (Ray describes his sisters' sorties to the Palais and claims one would return and tell him ‘I came dancing tonight, Ray’.) 

You Really Got Me (Ray talks about the blues genesis of the song and wanting to be Johnny Lee Hooker, a difficult aspiration for a ‘honky’ from North London, then has Ian plink the notes on the piano as Ray himself did for Dave. I imagine this to be a little like the scene in ‘Close Encounters’ when they play pipe tones to try to communicate with the spacecraft – Ray strikes them on the old upright in the famous front room, then when Dave plays them on the guitar, it’s the moment when the spacecraft repeats the notes at a deafening volume, blowing the glass in the window. An understanding, an accord, a momentous breakthrough. Ray says something like ‘and Dave picked up his guitar and played the Kinks into rock and roll history’.)

All Day and All of the Night (Let’s rearrange those chords again and have another hit. Mission accomplished.) 

Low Budget (A new one to many here tonight but a staple of the Kinks live shows since the late 70s as in this 79 version in which Dave lets rip on the guitar. And who can fail to be entertained by Ray’s lyrics: ‘Even my trousers are giving me pain/They were reduced in a sale so I shouldn't complain/ They squeeze me so tight so I can't take no more/They're a size 28 but I take 34’. I love these lines as it always gives Ray a chance to flaunt his arse. Let's face it, any excuse. But if you’ve got it …. And we all join in on: ‘At least my hair is all mine/My teeth are my own/But everything else is on permanent loan’ – well, not all but we devotees in the front.)

Before he leaves us, Ray comes to shake hands with some of us in the front row. I resist the temptation to pull him off the stage for a hug.

Tired of Waiting for You or Tired of You Waiting for Me …

Hung around fruitlessly at the Stage Door afterwards but feeling like a predator lying in wait for prey made me uncomfortable, as if I were about to ambush him, especially when I learned that Ray had managed to avoid us. It wasn’t that hard – we’re pretty pathetic predators. It was like sending a couple of rabbits to capture a lion. That’s what happens when you pit amateurs against experts. This whole fan thing is so weird. Now, having read that he gets tired of seeing the same old people, I’m anxious not to become one of them although I expect there’s something reassuring when you look out from the stage and spot some familiar faces.

See Our Friends

Ray has described his songs as his friends and what we discovered when we saw the those original BBC4 programmes on the Kinks, Ray and Dave, about a year ago, is what some of the Canterbury crowd find out tonight, that they’re our friends too (or at least nodding acquaintances that we’ve always wanted to know better), that we’ve assimilated them in the collective unconscious, they’re part of our history, and though dressed in different clothes, they’re instantly familiar and it warms our hearts to see/hear them again.

So all in all an exciting show. Ray’s energy is astonishing. I can't understand why reviewers complain about him still doing scissor jumps or leaps. God, do everything you can until you can no longer do it. I won't sum up yet as I have three gigs to go … it’ll be a marathon rather than a sprint.

[All 2012 images and video are mine.]