Confessions of a Kinks fanboy

Firstly, I've got to say "hats off" to Steve Jordan (he of Polaris Award fame) for the last-minute heads-up about legendary Kinks principal Ray Davies performing a Friday evening in-store at Toronto's Yonge Street HMV location. According to my somewhat informed opinion, Davies just happens to be the greatest, most significant songwriter in the history of the sport (and those who don't recognize this fact are free to either argue against it or simply wait until they are inevitably proved wrong). At any rate, barring a coronary on my part or an unprecedented diaper mishap on my toddler daughter's part, there was precisely no way I was going to miss this opportunity to see and hear my superstar workingman's hero up close and personal among all that shrink-wrapped retail product. At this juncture I should point out that Mr. Jordan's timely notice also mentioned there was to be a post-performance autograph signing session. Whatever.

Suffice it to say I'm not the autograph type. For the most part, I consider the whole concept a cheesy trapping of celebrity worship, and celebrity worship is one of the reasons this world has become so far gone. But this is Ray Davies we're talking about - one of just a small handful of artists whose words played a more significant role in determining the human being I have become than anything I might have gleaned from both of my parents combined. (Did I mention he's the greatest, most significant songwriter of all time? Oh yeah, I did.)

So I got to thinking about what I'd bring along for the man to sign. I took advantage of my daughter's napping state to thumb through my LP collection - a figurative shadow of its former girth at an alphabetical width of just five feet or so. Much to my dismay I could not locate one of my prized pieces - a U.S. first edition gatefold of the Kinks' seminal Village Green Preservation Society. WTF? Had it been ripped off? Had I sold it and erased the tragic memory of the transaction from my brain? Did I put it somewhere else for safer keeping? Quelle drag. I settled for a 12" compilation called Kinks Kollectables and a seven-inch single on the Pye label of the band's lesser-known gem "Mr. Pleasant" (b/w "Harry Rag").

Upon arriving at HMV I found the store's second floor crowded but was able to secure a choice spot to the left of where Mr. Davies's mic stand was set up. Twenty minutes later the man appeared, gracious and self-effacing in horn-rimmed glasses and a stripy woolen scarf. He played a couple of tracks from his new CD, Working Man's Cafe, along with a crowd-pleasing rendition of "Lola" complete with those arena-inspired singalong bits, which came off as kind of charming given the scale of the cozy event.

At performance's end a friendly and sincere-sounding Davies thanked everyone for coming out and suggested he'd likely be through town in the months ahead touring in support of the new CD. With no mention from Davies's handlers of an autograph session, and a general aversion on my part to queues and crowds, I put my jacket on and considered how best to exit. Then some guy in an HMV shirt indicated the autograph line would start at or about where I happened to be standing. Bonus for me.

On the way to the signing table I managed to nab one of the last remaining bonus copies of Davies's new CD, which comes with a DVD featuring a short film he made called Americana: A Work in Progress. And only one guy cut in front of me while I paid for the thing. Davies came across as a really nice guy who must have been well aware he didn't have to be doing this sort of thing but seemed genuinely interested in meeting and chatting with some fans. "That was a great label," he said to me of the Pye single I presented to him for his signature. "Too bad it doesn't exist anymore."

Aside from some other pleasantries and talk of his upcoming tour, that was basically that. I didn't shake his hand because I'm suffering from a particularly nasty cold right now that may or may not be the flu and I wouldn't dream of passing that along to Davies or any of the other fans on hand.

On the streetcar ride home I thought about a few other things I wished I had said to Davies, like how admirable I think it is that he's still writing thoughtful, relevant and socially critical songs while nearly all other artists of his generation are either retired, living exclusively off the spoils of past glories or churning out meaningless crap, like McCartney on the Brit Awards the other night toting a mandolin and singing about having a good time and feeling alright.

Working Man's Cafe is out on the New West Records label and features some insightful commentary on the international proliferation of retail chain stores, the loss of manufacturing jobs in the Western world, rampant bureaucracy and the general lack of humanity that seems to inform life on this planet these days. There's some gentler, more personal material, too, as well as some catchy arrangements, the likes of which you might expect from the guy chiefly responsible for many of rock's most memorable and melodic moments. If that sounds like a recommendation, that's because it is.

Comments

[rené]

it remains a wonderful mystery to me to find out that somehow my fascination with Mr Ray Davies is shared and felt by other sensible and sensitive people on this planet... it keeps the flame burning and helps me realize I am not the only one who feels 'guided' by RD's music and lyrics...viewing the world in this exquisitely 'Kinky' manner

rené, the Netherlands

[Bob]

Great write-up and I thoroughly enjoyed the show as well. It's refreshing to hear your thoughts on autographs, I feel very much the same way. I got a good spot as well, right in front of the man. Seems we were lucky because the in-store setup was ridiculous to say the least.

[Ray]

I saw Ray Davies at the Vancouver Virgin Records (now HMV) store about 10 years ago, when To The Bone CD came out and he was on his Storyteller tour. I got his autograph and requested Most Exclusive Residence for Sale for his show later that night. He wrote a note about it, but, alas, he didn't play it. It was a great show though.