Kinky Break

It all begins with my brother Sam, who has been suggesting some time that I learn about music. Shortly after my return from France, I decided to create an account on Pandora, in order to expose myself to the world of popular contemporary music. Within a few weeks, my station had quickly morphed to include artists whom I associate with my parents, and particularly with my Father. This is why, when he asked me how I was feeling, while picking me up on Dragon Day to bring me home for Spring Break, and I replied that I was "looking for fun and feelin' groovy," he understood the reference.
But what pleasantly surprised my parents the most was not that I could make Simon and Garfunkle references, but that I had learned that I love the Kinks. For those of you who don't know, the Kinks are another band from the British invasion, and have continued to produce albums well into the 21st century. The only song you've probably heard by them is "All Day and All the night," which I sang in duet with Josefin the night we first tried out the new CJL karaoke machine.
My parents and I spoke about the Kinks for most of Shabbat dinner, and on Saturday night, my Dad gave me a pile of CDs to listen to while I was home: the Ultimate Kinks Collection (2CDs), Preservation Acts I and II (a 2-volume rock opera), and Muswell Hillbillies, my Mother's favorite CD. Needless to say, I had listened to all of them by Tuesday evening, and continued to search for more tracks on Spotify.
I enjoy the Kinks mostly because of the wonderfully caustic lyrics of the lead singer and songwriter Ray Davies, who with his brother Dave makes up the historical core of the band. The songs are ironic, edgy, and often quite funny. They range enormously in their topics: from the memory of drinking tea at grandma's house ("Have a Cuppa Tea"), to an encounter in a dance hall with a transvestite ("Lola"), to a social commentary on the squalor of the urban poor ("Deadend Street"), to an imaginary fascist takeover of jolly old England (Preservation). Songs' protagonists hail from every class of English society, the ultra-wealthy ("Sunny Afternoon") to the hypocritical middle class ("A Well-Respected Man"), to the playboy ("Dedicated Follower of Fashion") to the homeless and jobless ("Sitting in the Midday Sun"). There are a few typical of the love songs that one associates with the Beatles' earlier years together, but more often than not, relationships in songs are painful or complicated, with such lines as "I'm going to miss her bloodshot alcoholic eyes" ("Musswell Hillbilly").
At least half of the songs are about people with messed-up lives. "Do It Again" describes the hypnosis of daily drudgery, "Apeman" is about a modern Luddite, "Celluloid Heroes" is about the dark side of Hollywood stardom, and the title "Acute Paranoia Schizophrenia Blues" says it all.
Ray Davies consistently pushes the right emotional buttons to make listeners smile or squirm, as necessary.
So, that's what I accomplished this break: a bit of music history. Thanks to Josh Mitrani for giving me the idea of blogging about music. If you don't already, you should read his blog.

~JD

"The basic indifference of Petain and Laval left the field to the zealots. Vichy antisemitism seems to us neither the work of mass opinion nor of the men at the top. It was pushed by powerful groups and fanatic individuals, given a free hand by the indifference of others ready to abandon the values of the hated ancien regime" (Marrus and Paxton, Vichy France and the Jews, p. 19).