As the twentieth anniversary of their groundbreaking 1964 debut hit ‘You Really Got Me‘ drew ever closer, in 1983 The Kinks, to all outward purposes, were in a place of such rude commercial health it seemed somewhat incongruous they should title their second studio album of the 80s ‘STATE OF CONFUSION‘ (June 1983).
It was by far from the first, nor would it be the last of The Kinks and their glorious contradictions.
If the first decade of their illustrious career had been the sublime ’60s when guitarist, singer and principle songwriter Ray Davies had pretty much written rings around the opposition with a run of incomparable singles and at least three brilliantly conceived albums, then the 1970s lacked coherence.
One masterpiece of an LP – ‘Muswell Hillbillies‘ (1971) – was later followed by a series of convoluted concept pieces, before the era finished with three straightforward, less ambitious offerings that met with a so-so response from the critics, but in the United States at least, sold like hot cakes.
The ’80s thus far had been exceptional in terms of earnings, less extraordinary regarding releases, the band maintaining their late ’70s purple patch by shipping vast quantities of double-live set ‘One For The Road’ (1980) and an opening studio effort of the new decade.
In the process The Kinks had become a major draw on the U.S. arena circuit, the recent output of Davies reflecting their status as a group now consummate in creating music ideal for the cavernous venues they were now filling, the songs for the most part boasting a rousing chorus and dominant electric guitar work.
Having long since forged repute as a songsmith for whom originality and wit were second nature, by naming their last album ‘Give the People What They Want‘ (1981), it became hard to tell whether Ray was being wry and ironic – or willfully cynical.
Nineteen years down the road from when the growling riff of ‘You Really Got Me‘ had sent shock waves through the recognised soundscape of popular music, Ray was still in cahoots with drummer Mick Avory and continued conflict with younger brother and lead guitarist Dave (the siblings having a famously fractious relationship) – Davies junior responsible for the crunching chords that had reverberated around the world from their North London enclave of Muswell Hill.
The three original members were by now augmented by bassist Jim Rodford and keyboard player Ian Gibbons, The Kinks triumphantly taking high octane, low risk live performances from one huge auditorium to another, their indomitable spirit and spontaneity now subsidised by standardisation.
This change in approach was not lost on Dave Davies, who years later when reflecting on the period leading up to and surrounding ‘State of Confusion‘ told Matt Resnicoff for a 2004 cd reissue of the album:
‘Once you get into those stadiums everything you play seems loud,’ he recalled, ‘I must admit that after a while I felt uncomfortable driving up in the limousine and seeing the big, unemotional, cold empty shell of a building. Sometimes it seemed like every song sounded the same and the bands who played in these places started to sound similar. It made me think why we were doing it and it was getting to all of us.’
So as a starting point in dissecting ‘State of Confusion‘ it is safe to assume The Kinks, rather than embrace their present success were confused by it. Of the ten songs that constitute the album, all written and produced by Ray, many (beginning with the anguished declarations of the title track), are shot through with anxiety bordering on cynicism. The protagonists have come to lament the circumstances that surround them or lost in a wilderness brought on by failed or failing relationships.
The sombre subject matter is perhaps not altogether surprising given Ray Davies had in recent times seen his second marriage end in divorce while beginning a tempestuous affair with Pretenders guitarist and songstress Chrissie Hynde. His observations on the complexities of a romantic union and the emotional conflict contained therein are often bitter and barbed, Davies on the twentieth studio album issued by The Kinks never previously sounding so dejected about the human condition where matters of the heart are involved.
To break the overriding mood of despondency, Davies offers respite in the form of ‘Don’t Forget to Dance‘ a gently-paced tome of encouragement for a woman feeling her age as mid-life looms, the wistfully nostalgic ‘Come Dancing‘ and throwaway closing cut ‘Bernadette‘ a rock and roll contrivance overloaded with bluster.
With the horn section and female backing singers who adorned their albums through much of the ’70s now consigned to the past, it is another self-contained affair, The Kinks, after an endless round of big venue touring now a well-honed ensemble. Their cohesion is evident in performances that are routinely effective, giving the impression any of the tracks could be delivered on stage at the drop of a hat.
In combining post-punk overtones with pristine production values, ‘State of Confusion‘ is a Kinks album built for purpose. Aside from the occasional mishit this is a solid LP rarely lacking in purpose, an altogether engaging listen from a band who on the face of it could have not been less suited to electro drums and leg-warmer trends of the early ’80s.
So confused or not The Kinks (Ray Davies essentially), found plenty to reflect upon in taking stock of how life and the times were unfolding – not something that could be said of many of his contemporaries as 1983 came to pass.
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Indeed, the opening title track has both personal and political resonance, Davies as he had done on several previous occasions, connecting a troubled state of mind to a world in turmoil. With its sharp, upbeat opening, over which Ray howls in anguish, ‘London Calling‘ is immediately evoked, but whereas Joe Strummer and co warned of a coming apocalypse, the narrator here has domestic dangers in the form of flooding, woodworm and a collapsed ceiling to contend with – his disillusionment made complete by a departing lover:
‘All the dirty dishes/Are still in the kitchen sink/The tumble dryer’s broken/Now the telly’s on the blink/
My girlfriend’s packed her bags/And moved out to another town/She couldn’t stand the boredom/When the video broke down.’
The shrill guitar tone and background vocal refrain maybe concessions to the arena audiences The Kinks would soon be playing to again, but the fears expressed by the writer sound genuine enough:
‘Lyin’ awake in a cold, cold sweat/Am I overdrawn, am I going in debt?/It gets worse, the older that you get/No escape from the state of confusion I’m in.’
Such feelings of uncertainty are repeated in the catchy, hook-laden, ‘Definitely Maybe‘, a strident, mid-tempo complaint of how unnecessary complications impinge on everyday life.
‘Surely there must be a way to open all the doors/And wade through all the petty bureaucratic little laws/
Frustration everywhere I turn, I just get more and more/Everyone’s got problems and they’ve heard all mine before.’
On the album cover the five members can be seen running from a wall on which the title of the record has been daubed but each Kink is looking in a different direction, the air of not knowing where to go or what to do captured to good effect through this accomplished track.
From a withering attack on petty bureaucracy Ray then offers a stinging inditement of marriage on ‘Labour of Love‘. His caustic views are preceded by searing electric guitar work from Dave who interprets the wedding march in similar irreverent fashion to Jimi Hendrix reconstructing the ‘Star Spangled Banner‘ at Woodstock.
In making his point Davies describes the married couple in question as ‘Mr. and Mrs. Horrible‘ a pernickety pair (and that is just with each other), who have become so dislikeable to have ‘frightened all their friends away.’
Describing marriage as a ‘two-headed transplant‘, this lamentable state of affairs is played out against the backdrop of Dave making some feisty guitar noise. Yet as the song unfolds Ray appears to mellow – and while his conclusions are not exactly a glowing testimony to matrimony, the end can, sometimes, justify the means:
‘Cut off one of the heads and you’ll soon find out/That the other just couldn’t survive/Because they couldn’t stand to be separated/They still each other’s to have and hold/Anyone who thinks the transplant is easy/Really ought to be told.’
He takes a slightly less jaundiced view of the subject on side one closer ‘Property‘ – the pair having reached the unhappy point of parting must now separate their assets, hence the title.
The lilting melody, decorated with synthesiser and vocoder make it an artefact of the time – although in this case time is up for the separating occupants of the dwelling:
‘You take the photographs, the ones of you and me/When we both posed and laughed to please the family/Nobody noticed then we wanted to be free/And now there’s no more love/It’s just the property.’
Yet in recognising how the fundamental issues need to be addressed, Davies does not lose sight of how little adornments can be significant, no other writer in the rock medium so well versed in taking the big picture from small detail:
‘And all the little gifts we thought we’d throw away/The useless souvenirs bought on a holiday/We put them on a shelf, now they’re collecting dust/We never needed them, but they outlasted us.’
In between these two ruminations on conflicted couples is sandwiched ‘Come Dancing‘ the most successful and celebrated Kinks song of the 1980s.
When released as a single it reached number six to become their biggest U.S. hit while also restoring them to the upper echelons of the U.K. charts after an eleven year absence, climbing to number 12. With great poignancy Ray recalls the circumstances of his elder sisters going to a ballroom on a ’50s Saturday night, the platform for this delightful evocation of more innocent times a keyboard-affected steel drum motif:
‘Another Saturday, another date/She would be ready but she’s always make them wait/In the hallway in anticipation/He didn’t know the night would end up in frustration/He’d end up blowing all his wages for the week/All for a cuddle and a peck on the cheek.’
In the absence of a dominant guitar riff, a rarity in itself for The Kinks, Ray throws the kitchen sink at making the song distinctive, not least by adding contribution from a dance band in emphasising the pangs of nostalgia, while an engaging video, directed by Julien Temple, was shown constantly in the early days of MTV.
The contemplation of days gone by is transposed to the woman at the centre of side two opener ‘Don’t Forget to Dance.’ Attached to an ambling, at times aching melody, Ray delivers a suitably plaintive vocal, his empathy evident from early in the track:
‘You look out of your window/Into the night/Could be rain, could be snow/But it can’t feel as cold as you’re feeling inside/And all of your friends are either married, vanished/Or just left alone/But that’s no reason to just stop living/That’s no excuse to just give in to a sad and lonely heart.’
In the end Davies offers up optimism and resilience in fending off the malaise of middle age, hopeful she will not be abandoned or become consigned to solitude.
With the U.K. four years into the Tory administration of Margaret Thatcher, Ray uses ‘Young Conservatives‘ to make some pithy comments about the party in power – the lyrics of which become all the more pertinent when the government were reelected with a landslide majority the day before ‘State of Confusion‘ was released in Great Britain.
An up-tempo cut with resounding drums and biting guitar to the fore, Davies sounds either bemused or disparaging in describing how this new breed of twenty-something Tories have come to be (‘The establishment is winning/Now the battle’s nearly won/The rebels are conforming/See the father, now the sons’).
At the same time wily old Ray is not adverse to reminding us he has seen all this before, slipping the phrase ‘A Well Respected Man‘ (title of one of his great satirical songs of the ’60s) into the fourth verse while ending another with the ‘fa-fa-fa-fa-far‘ passage from another, the sublime ‘David Watts‘ – Davies serving notice that while some new wave acts had made a decent fist of penning lyrics full of social observation, (The Jam for one, who had covered the latter), the trail, in relation to British rock, pretty much started with him.
As for the rapacious right-wingers referred to in this current song, Ray, inadvertently perhaps, foresees arrival of the late-’80s yuppie, (‘Look at all the young conservatives/Hanging out in the bars/It’s got to stop before it goes too fa-fa-fa-fa-far‘), doing so with a detectable sneer in his voice.
Further into side two ‘Cliches of the World‘ (B-Movie) has similarities to The Clash, in particular something found on their 1982 ‘Combat Rock‘ set, that would prove the last album from the most recognisable line-up of the punk standard-bearers.
The longest track on the record at almost five minutes, the ominous guitar lines add to the foreboding atmosphere, the central figure coming to the point of penning a suicide note on becoming so disenchanted with his lot:
‘He starts writing a letter/To make it perfectly clear/He’s just a man who’s reached the end of his rope/Expressing his doubts and his fears/In a world, feels so lonely and afraid/Disillusioned by the promises they made/It’s a pity that it ended up this way/Life is just a cliché.’
It is a mournful, disconcerting piece but no less compelling for that, Davies having previously pondered the circumstances of those feeling alienated by society (the title-track of 1978 album ‘Misfits‘ an obvious example), but here the main character finds nothing redemptive in a world of the high-rise and motorway.
There is more than a hint of discord running through the captivating ‘Heart of Gold‘ the theme being one of sibling rivalry, (not the obvious one) rather than a disconnect from everyday life.
Considering how long the antagonism between Ray and Dave had been common knowledge, the opening verse of this chiming, folk-rock gem feels very close to home:
‘Growing up isn’t easy to do/Especially for one who always knew/You would always come up second best/Is that why you have such bitterness?‘
Yet from then on it becomes clear the one suffering from a lack of attention on the journey from child to youth is a female (‘Watch out, don’t get caught in the crossfire/Watch out, she’s still growing up, she’s in a rage/I guess she’s reached that difficult age’), but for all that the compliment inferred in the title is still apparent.
While brother Dave can be discounted as the subject of the song, it is not to disregard Davies throwing in coy, personal references later on regarding the possible focus of his attention. In January 1983 Hynde had given birth to a daughter fathered by Ray, who in one verse offers the thought, ‘Growing up is very hard to do/Everybody watching your every move/Your private life always on view/But jealousy never really suited you’.
Yet as the song weaves toward to a conclusion, the composer gives the tale an intriguing twist, (‘Now I see you’ve got a little girl of your own/Little princess certainly grown/And there’s a man, he’s smiling at you/He must have been the one who always knew‘) – and just for good measure the melody could not be more Pretender-esqe if it tried.
With so much about the album to commend, things unfortunately end on a rather anti-climatic note, Dave given lead vocal responsibilities on the hard-rocking but charmless ‘Bernadette‘ – Ray writing a lyric full of licentious innuendo in taking to task a sexually predative, golddigger of a woman, who preys on hapless men.
It is fast and frenetic but ultimately all somewhat fitful. Tucked away in its natural home, namely a non-album B-side, nobody would have cared less, but as the closing track of a conscientious rock record, ‘Bernadette‘ simply does not pass muster – especially when the eloquent ‘Long Distance‘ (included on the cassette format) was to hand, this delightful Dylan pastiche conveying far from home loneliness, as good a song Ray would write during the latter chapters of The Kinks career.
On release ‘State of Confusion‘ epitimised just how differently they had come to be viewed on each side of the Atlantic. In their homeland, where the album failed to chart, Colin Irwin, in his Melody Maker review appeared affronted it was no longer 1968 and Ray could not come up with ‘Days‘ or ‘Autumn Almanac‘ when the mood arose. Irwin described the record as ‘disjointed and unsatisfying‘, pulling no punches in concluding, ‘It’s energetic dross, in some cases intelligent dross, but dross all the same.’
In contrast, across the pond it met with a rapturous reception, Rolling Stone praised the album (that reached number 12 on the Billboard listings), for its ‘zip and assurance,’ before going on to declare:
‘Nobody but The Kinks could have made such a record in 1983 and no band deserves more to be at the very top.’
They had a point. When compared to what was issued by those of similar vintage, ‘Pipes of Peace‘ (Paul McCartney), ‘Gone Troppo‘ (George Harrison), ‘Undercover‘ (Rolling Stones) or ‘Body Wishes‘ (Rod Stewart) in the same year, ‘State of Confusion‘ stands as an unqualified success.
But this being The Kinks an easy ride was never likely to ensue.
With 1984 barely three months old Davies and Hynde parted, (The Pretenders leader marrying Simple Minds front man Jim Kerr during the first week of May), their separation happening simultaneously with the twenty year Kink tenure of Mick Avory coming to an end.
Having become clear Mick and Dave Davies could no longer maintain a personal or working relationship, he was replaced at the drums by Bob Henrit who in reconnecting with Rodford created an ex-Argent rhythm section – The Kinks inner sanctum moving from a state of confusion to one of apparent dissolution within weeks.
When, however, had it not been thus. The upheaval caused by each uncoupling was sad and chastening – although not enough to prevent the next Kinks album (‘Word of Mouth‘ November 1984) appearing in the racks before the year was out…….
THE KINKS – STATE OF CONFUSION (Released June 10 1983):
State of Confusion/Definite Maybe/A Labour of Love/Come Dancing/Property/Don’t Forget to Dance/Young Conservatives/Heart of Gold/Cliches of the World (B-Movie)/Bernadette;
