218. The Kinks – Sunny Afternoon (1966)

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11 July saw the FIFA World Cup begin in England with the home team drawing against Uruguay 0-0. However by the time the 20 July came, they were top of their group, with wins against Mexico and France, both 2-0 up. And the best was yet to come.

The day after the tournament began, the Rhodesia saga continued with Zambia threatening to leave the Commonwealth over British peace overtures. On 14 July, Gwynfor Evans was elected as Member of Parliament for Carmarthen, becoming the first ever Plaid Cymru MP. Two days later, Prime Minister Harold Wilson flew to Moscow in order to begin peace negotiations over the Vietnam War, but the Soviet Government refused to help. And although life in the UK that summer is remembered as being a prosperous, positive time, 20 July saw the start of a six-month wage and price freeze.

That day marked the end of the Kinks’ third and final stint at number 1, with the classic Sunny Afternoon. Since Tired of Waiting for You had ruled the charts, the group had released singles of varying quality. The best of the bunch was the droning, proto-psychedelic See My Friends in the summer of 1965. Released four months before Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown), it is considered to be one of the first pop songs to incorporate an Indian raga sound.

Tensions were emerging within the group in a very public way, and it wasn’t just Ray and Dave Davies that were known to scrap. Drummer Mick Avory and Dave fought on stage that May in Cardiff, with Avory fleeing the scene after knocking out Davies with his hi-hat stand, in fear he had murdered the guitarist. The drummer later told the police it was just a new part of their live show where the Kinks would throw instruments at each other.

The foursome’s chances of making an impact in the US were given a severe knockback when the American Federation of Musicians refused to allow the band permits for the next four years. Ray Davies believed this to have stemmed from him throwing a punch at a TV crew member who had launched into a tirade of anti-British comments at him. But it wasn’t just in the US that Davies was treated with condescension. He was treated with disdain by upper-class fellow guests at a luxury resort. Those guests helped bring about a marked shift in the direction of the Kinks, and the one which marked out Davies as one of the country’s greatest songwriters.

Well Respected Man, released that September, was the first instance of the band taking inspiration from music hall for their sound, with Davies satirising the British class system. From here on in, nobody could write barbed lyrics about life in England quite like Ray Davies. In February 1966 they released one of their best singles, Dedicated Follower of Fashion, taking aim at London’s fashion scene. The power-chord rock of You Really Got Me that originally brought them fame must have seemed a long time ago.

Despite their developing sound bringing them success, Ray Davies was not a happy man. The squabbling within the group and pressures of recording and touring had brought about a breakdown while working on their third album in late-1965, The Kink Kontroversy. Before writing Sunny Afternoon, Davies had bought a white, upright piano but in his depressed state he was struggling to come up with any new songs. He would listen to Frank Sinatra and Bob Dylan over and over for inspiration, but was getting nowhere.

Eventually, like the Beatles on Taxman, released later that summer as the opening track to Revolver, Davies began by complaining about the state of the Labour government’s tax system. As good an opening line as ‘The tax man’s taken all my dough, and left me in my stately home, lazing on a sunny afternoon’ was, Davies wisely realised the public might not feel much sympathy for a rich rock star like him, and so the song evolved into the complaining of a loaded aristocrat who had inherited his money but fallen on hard times. He tried to make the character unloveable, adding that his girlfriend claimed he was cruel when drunk to help make record buyers dislike the protagonist.

You could argue that Davies failed in this however, because Sunny Afternoon is so damn charming. A lot of that is down to his brilliant delivery of the lyrics, which conjure up a tipsy, loaded n’er-do-well. It’s one of their most memorable tunes, and one of the best songs of the mid-60s.

Over the years though, I feel that perhaps the message of the song has become somewhat lost in translation in mainstream culture, and is now often used simply to portray the ‘great British summer’. Never mind the fact this guy was probably beating up his partner, lets just have a drink, enjoy the sun and sing along, yeah? That’s not the fault of the Kinks, however. It actually shows the genius of Davies, to be able to hide such biting lyrics within a catchy pop classic.

Although Sunny Afternoon was their last number 1, his genius would continue through the 1960s and early 70s, with albums like The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society (1968) and particularly singles like Waterloo Sunset and Days. Dave Davies would also prove himself to be a great songwriter with solo singles Death of a Clown (co-written with his brother) and Susannah’s Still Alive. Such great work didn’t always equate to hits at the time, though, and much of their best material has only grown in popularity long after release.

In early 1969 bassist Pete Quaife told the rest of the band he was leaving, despite Ray’s pleas for him to stay. He was replaced with John Dalton, who had filled in for him in the past. Their ban in the US was finally lifted, and they added John Gosling as a permanent keyboardist (Nicky Hopkins had filled this role on their recordings previously) when recording Lola. Their last true great single, this tale of an encounter with a transvestite was a top ten hit here and in the US.

The mid-70s were a tough time for the band, with Ray’s family problems causing him to collapse from a drug overdose after announcing he was retiring on stage in 1973. He focused on writing rock opera rather than pop instead, which was poorly recieved. Dalton claims that Ray has never been the same since this breakdown, and he left the group in 1976. Their fortunes improved over the next few years, helped along by the Jam citing them as a major influence and releasing their version of David Watts as a single.

In 1983 their single Come Dancing performed better than anything they had released in years, and they were back on Top of the Pops with a number 12 single, but personal problems came to the fore once more. Ray fell out with Dave over solo projects, Ray’s relationship with Pretenders’ singer Chrissie Hynde ended badly, and Dave finally refused to work with Avory any longer. He was replaced by Argent member Bob Henrit, but thanks to Ray he would contribute occasionally. Line-up changes continued, but Avory and Quaife did show up when the Kinks were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1990.

Despite their public profile improving considerably in the mid-90s thanks to Britpop, one of the best UK groups in music finally chose to call it a day. They played together to celebrate Dave’s 50th at the Clissold Arms pub, where the Davies brothers musical journey had begun years ago.

A year later I saw Ray Davies for the first time at a sodden Glastonbury Festival, where he performed a mostly acoustic set of the classics. One of the few times I felt summery that weekend. When I next saw him there, during a blazing hot festival with my wife in 2010, Quaife had just died, and the highlight of another great show was a very emotional Davies dedicating Days to his former bassist and friend. He broke down several times while performing it. It was a very different show to 1997, his voice not as effective, but he was bolstered by a choir and both shows were great for different reasons.

Rumours of a Kinks reunion have never gone away, and baby boomers the world over were delighted to hear that the feuding brothers appeared to have finally buried the hatchet and a reformation was announced, with Avory also returning. Unfortunately, nothing seems truly concrete yet, but it is believed they will be working on a new album. No doubt it won’t match the glory days (few groups can), but I’d love to see Davies one last time at Glastonbury, this time with his brother and Avory alongside him.

Written by: Ray Davies

Producer: Shel Talmy

Weeks at number 1: 2 (7-20 July)

Births:

Actress Tamsin Grieg – 12 July
Presenter Johnny Vaughan – 16 July

202. The Rolling Stones – (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction (1965)

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What is it with these legendary songs that were supposedly written in the sleep of their composers? Paul McCartney has always said Yesterday came to him in a dream. He rushed to the piano in the Asher household the following morning to play the melody, and was convinced at first that somebody else must have written it. But Scrambled Eggs, as he originally called it, was a Lennon and McCartney original.

And in the same year came (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction by the Rolling Stones. Mick Jagger and Keith Richards had written their first number 1, The Last Time, earlier in 1965, although how much they can lay claim to that is debatable considering they pinched the chorus from the Staple Singers. Nonetheless, their songwriting was improving. The fact this song came soon after makes that a hell of an understatement.

Richards claims he woke up one morning and had a half memory of recording himself trying out a song that had come to him in the night. Playing back the recording, he heard himself playing (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction on an acoustic guitar for two minutes, singing the song’s title, followed by the sound of the pick hitting the floor and then him snoring for 40 minutes until the tape side ran out. Like McCartney, Richards was sure someone else had already written this song. He was worried it sounded like Martha & the Vandellas’ Dancing in the Street in particular.

Are the stories for these songs true? Did two of the most memorable pop songs of all time appear in their creators’ subconscious? Or did they lie to add to the legend? I guess we’ll never know, but if both are true, it’s fascinating.

The Rolling Stones entered Chess Studios in Chicago to record (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction on 10 May. Mick Jagger wrote the lyrics four days beforehand by a swimming pool. Apart from the aforementioned line, that is. The original recording wasn’t the version we know and love, and feature Brian Jones on harmonica. This version was the first the public heard of the track, however, when they debuted it on US telvision series Shindig. Two days later they tried again at RCA Studios in Hollywood, with Charlie Watts adding a new beat, and Richards performing the famous riff through a Gibson fuzzbox. This hadn’t been done on a released record before, and added a scratchy rawness to their sound. But that was fine, because he had no intention of it appearing on the released single. It was only there as a guide for what he wanted a brass section to perform.

What else can be said about (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction? How many superlatives exist? This was more dangerous than pop and rock’n’roll and to me, it’s one of the first singles you can call rock, along with You Really Got Me by the Kinks. Richards’ riff is like the musical equivalent of the big bang, it’s so important and incredible. And although it’s impossible to imagine a time in which it never existed, (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction never, ever, sounds boring. That fuzzy riff is so primitive, it’s somehow meant the song has remained fresh in the same way the base raunch of You Really Got Me has. It’s such a fantastic riff, it would have no doubt sounded great from a brass ensemble, but would it be as immortal as the version we know? I doubt it.

Lots of credit should also go to Jagger, whose lyrics fit perfectly. This really spoke to his generation, and it’s hard sometimes to think a song that encapsulates feelings of alienation brought on by advertising could come from a man who later became obsessed with money like Jagger did. Despite all the plaudits the Stones have had thrown at them over the years, I don’t think Jagger has ever really got the credit he deserves as a lyricist. Some of his songs from 1965 through to the early-1970s are as sharp as pop and rock music gets. There’s a real dry wit on display here. It’s only now that I discover that although many people found this song dangerously sexually charged at the time, the filthiest lyric of all escaped most people, including me. When Jagger sings: ‘And I’m tryin’ to make some girl/Who tells me baby better come back later next week/’Cause you see I’m on a losing streak’ the ‘losing streak’ in question is the girl’s period. Clever, Jagger, you filthy beast. As great as the lyrics are though, I guess that riff overshadows, well, nearly everything. Bill Wyman’s bass also complements it brilliantly though.

Once the track was completed, everyone bar the songwriters was convinced it needed no brass overdubs, and that they’d hit upon something truly special. Luckily for everyone, Jagger and Richards were outvoted, and (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction was quickly released a month later in the US, a well as featuring on the American version of their third album, Out of Our Heads. A month later it was the US number 1. UK buyers had to wait a while longer, as Decca were already about to release a live EP by the Rolling Stones. Released in August, the song divided public opinion. To older people and the BBC, it was disgusting. To pirate radio and teenagers and young adults, it was fucking brilliant. We know who was right. The BBC relented and on 9 September it began an all-too-short fortnight at number 1.

The Rolling Stones were suddenly in a new league, and rightly considered on the same level as the Beatles. Jagger and Richard had gone from blues copyists to premier songwriters. Although the whole band stood to benefit from this, 1965 marked the year in which Brian Jones began to feel sidelined.

(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction is up there with She Loves You as one of the songs that defines music, let alone the 60s. There have been countless covers from the good, the bad and the downright odd over the years, including Otis Redding, Devo, Britney Spears, the Residents, Samantha Fox and Cat Power.

I was one of the lucky ones who finally got to see the Rolling Stones at Glastonbury Festival in 2013. I’m not a superfan, and was expecting dips in the set, but overall it was a triumph and well worth the wait. Their final song was (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction. I’ve had many amazing monents at Glastonbury over the years. That ranks as one of the best.

Written by: Mick Jagger & Keith Richards

Producer: Andrew Loog Oldham

Weeks at number 1: 2 (9-22 September)

Deaths:

Cricketer JW Hearne – 14 September
Geologist Arthur Holmes – 20 September 

174. The Beatles – A Hard Day’s Night (1964)

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Ian MacDonald, in his excellent book Revolution in the Head (1994), stated that the opening chord of A Hard Day’s Night and the final chord of A Day in the Life, two of the most famous examples of such in popular music, bookend the peak creative years of the Beatles. While I don’t always agree with his opinions on the Beatles work, it’s a hell of a tome, and he is spot on in this judgement.

The spring of 1964 had seen the Beatles hurriedly filming their parts in their first feature film, still potentially called, appropriately enough, Beatlemania. The idea was to make a low-budget musical movie that saw the Fab Four pretty much being themselves, coping with their new-found fame, plus a surreal plot involving Paul’s grandfather, played by Wilfred Brambell from Steptoe and Son. Hopefully they could achieve this without falling into the same trap as Elvis, ie, getting stuck in an endless rut of ever-poorer cheap romantic comedies with substandard songs. By April they had recorded most of their third album, for the first time featuring nothing but Lennon and McCartney songs. There are several versions of how the title track came about, but they all state the inspiration came from Ringo Starr and his knack of saying things wrong but somehow making them sound poetic. Referring to the fact they’d often work through the night in the studio, Starr ended one session announcing how it’d been a hard day’s night. John Lennon liked the phrase so much he’d already included it in his first book earlier that year, In His Own Write. This passage came from the short story, Sad Michael:

‘There was no reason for Michael to be sad that morning, (the little wretch): everyone liked him, (the scab). He’d had a hard day’s night that day, for Michael was a Cocky Watchtower.’

The film’s producer Walter Shenson loved the phrase, and decided it would be the name of the film. He told Lennon he needed to write a song with the same name, and was startled to be given it the following day. Lennon and McCartney had already begun composing together less and were getting competitive about who got the A-sides on their singles, and Lennon may have been wanting the hit after McCartney had written previous single Can’t Buy Me Love. This period was Lennon’s most dominant within the Beatles, before McCartney considered himself de facto leader upon Epstein’s suicide, and Lennon was often too high to be bothered to compete so much. The group had the song polished in three hours flat on 16 April.

Knowing that A Hard Day’s Night would open the album as well as the film, the Beatles felt they had to come up with a good opening. What they probably didn’t realise is they would come up with one of the most memorable intros to a pop song ever. That famous chord has been subject to enormous amounts of literature over the years. It would seem it came about from all four band members, plus George Martin on a piano, striking their instruments at once. Such a great intro requires a great song, and the Beatles don’t disappoint there either. It’s one of their best singles of this period, and while the lyrics are still rather cliched, they’re a step up from some of their 1963 material, and anyway, it’s such a strong song, it’s effervescence masks any weak points. Naysayers of Starr’s drumming, begone – his performance propels this track brilliantly. Okay, we could have maybe done without the cowbell, though, and I like a good cowbell, when used right. Macca handles the high notes on the middle eight superbly (Lennon felt he couldn’t do these bits justice) and Harrison and Martin’s duet on guitar and piano is another highlight. Almost as brilliant as the song’s opening is the ending, which was Martin’s inspiration. He pointed out to the group that they were recording film music now, and should keep that in mind when considering the fit of each song into the film. Harrison’s chiming arpeggio is beautiful, and a great example of how many ideas the Beatles were now coming up with. Lesser bands would have built an entire song out of that arpeggio. The guitarist had been given a prototype 12-string Rickenbacker, and it’s ringing sound helps make that third album such a delight.

That summer was all about A Hard Day’s Night. The film was released in the UK on 6 July, and was a critical and commercial smash, cementing the Fab Four as loveable mop-tops, but also showcasing each one’s charisma too. The title track made for a perfect introduction to what followed, and it’s hard to hear the song without picturing the quartet running from screaming girls, with Harrison falling over at one point (this was a genuine accident that was left in the sequence).  Unusually, the US got to hear it first, as the soundtrack album was released on 26 June. The single and album were released simultaneously in the UK on 10 July. In August, both releases held the number 1 spot in both the singles and albums chart in the UK and US, a feat that had never before been achieved.

Also that summer, it was the end of an era when Winston Churchill retired from the House of Commons on 28 July at the ripe old age of 89. A week later, the first portable television sets went on sale to the public. 4 August also saw a classic single released, in a year full of them, when You Really Got Me by the Kinks went on sale. More on that in the near future.

Written by: John Lennon & Paul McCartney

Producer: George Martin

Weeks at number 1: 3 (23 July-12 August)

Births:

Actress Matilda Ziegler – 23 July 

Deaths:

Author Ian Fleming – 12 August