Imagine, just for a moment if you will, that it is the late summer of 1964 and you are driving along listening to the AM radio. Even nearing the mid-sixties, the hippest pop/rock stations were still playing a remarkable wide variety of songs. You might hear the high energy of Elvis, Little Richard, and Chuck Berry. Or, completely opposite, it might be the slow and dulcet voice of Skeeter Davis singing her 1962 hit The End of The World. Add in various crooners such as Perry Como, Bobby Vinton, and Andy Williams and you have quite a musical selection.

You would also hear The Righteous Brothers telling the world that You’ve Lost That Loving Feelin’ and the Beach Boys singing about cars, girls, and surfing. The Zombies were bemoaning that She’s Not There and, in a related sentiment, The Supremes were posing the question Where Did Our Love Go?

The Beatles had their own take, of course, on failed relationships by admitting that I Should Have Known Better although you could be forgiven for asking why it all had to end the way that it did. After all, hadn’t the four lads from Liverpool just recently proclaimed that their greatest wish in life was I Want To Hold Your Hand  

Naturally there was edgier music finding its way onto playlists. Nothing dangerous mind you, but songs that were a definite change from the smooth vanilla of the regular fare. Route 66 by the Rollings Stones and Gloria by the group Them indicated a definite shift of pace and The Animals were decidedly rough and ready in the House of the Rising Sun. And let’s not forget that Bob Dylan was warbling out the Zeitgeist of the moment in The Times They Are a-Changin’…and indeed they were! (Note 1)

But in August/September of ’64 you were about to have your ears pinned back and left muttering “Just what was that?” The first five notes alone of this new song marked it as something out of the ordinary—something that later would be described as proto punk rock, mod music, and even the apotheosis of the “garage band” sound. Perhaps the only comparison that can be made for my generation is when, fourteen years later in 1978, the needle dropped on Van Halen’s debut album—it was that game changing. (Btw, more about Van Halen at the end so stay tuned.)

What song am I talking about? Well, none other than the Kinks You Really Got Me.  Before we go any further, please listen to this two minute fifteen second clip and try to imagine yourself in September 1964. Had you been listening to your AM radio there is a good chance that you might have just heard Bobby Vinton describing Blue Velvet when suddenly Ray Davies and his three mates arrive with this crunchy, raw, and propelling masterpiece of rock.

“Wait!” I hear you saying. “Aren’t the Kinks the guys that did soft ballads in the late 60s such as Sunday Afternoon, Waterloo Sunset and paeans to tea-time, cricket, pubs, and English pastoral life? Aren’t they the band that, in the 1980s, paid tribute to England’s old-fashioned dance halls in Come Dancing? Weren’t they the part of the British Invasion that ended up being banned from touring in the United States? Didn’t these guys have a reputation for being a brawling bunch who did not shy away from a good punch-up? Well, the answer to all of those questions is a resounding yes. The Kinks were all of these things and it is this crazy admixture of characteristics that makes them so interesting. Let’s take a look.

The Early Years

The Kinks were formed in 1963 in Muswell Hill, North London England by Ray Davies and his younger brother Dave. The only two boys in a family with six sisters, Ray, born in 1944, seemed from the start to dislike having a brother—an odd sentiment that set the stage for his life-long love/hate relationship with Dave. Like many English families however, music played a large role in the daily life and this offered the boys both a shared interest and a rich variety of influences—from their parent’s favorite music hall tunes to the jazz and rock that the sisters preferred. Both boys took up the guitar and, as was the craze at the time, started playing skiffle with groups of friends. (Note 2). 

Ray, just like so many other English young men and women who would later become well-known musicians, left home in his teens to attend art school (Note 3) where, nurturing his contemplative and introspective nature, he immersed himself in the world of painting, theatre, and music. It was a surprise to no one then when, in just a few short months, he moved beyond informal jam sessions to try his hand at actual live performances.

Wikipedia describes all the name changes of Ray and Dave’s early ensembles, so I won’t bore you with that list. What is important to know, however, is that after enlisting their childhood friend Pete Quaife to play bass guitar and finding Mick Avory to sit in on the drums, the group eventually became known as The Kinks. There is a lot of murkiness surrounding aspects of the Kink’s early history, so exactly how this specific name was adopted remains a mystery—with Ray even claiming he never liked it in the first place. Whatever its origin however, the single syllable name was short and punchy and the perfect moniker for an up-and-coming 1960s London rock band. 

Ray signed on two posh young men, Grenville Collins and Robert Wace, to do the management. For better or worse, Colins and Wace were, while indeed polished and posh, two gents who fancied seemingly little more than, for no other reason than the fun of it, having a go at running a musical act. Shortly afterward, Ray added Larry Page to the management team and, most importantly, made the acquaintance of Shel Talmy—an American producer who was working in London at the time. Shel proved to be the absolute crucial element in the Kink’s development for it was he who secured the group’s first recording deal with Pye Records. 

Unfortunately, things did not get off to the best of starts. The band’s first two singles failed to chart and the Pye executives threatened to drop their contract unless they soon produced something better. In fact, had it not been for the confidence and generosity of Shel, the quartet would have been relegated to the dustbin of musical history.

It was during a concert in Wales in May of 1965 when tensions boiled over and things got seriously rough. After finishing a rendition of You Really Got Me, Dave exchanged unpleasant words with Mick and kicked over his drum set. Mick, not being in a mood to meekly acquiesce to Dave’s provocations, promptly hit him over the head with his hi-hat stand—a solid metal contraption that weighs in at a good three kilos! This immediately rendered Dave unconscious, bleeding profusely, and in need of 16 stiches.

Mick, thinking that he had actually killed his bandmate, did not loiter in the concert hall to render first aid. Taking stock of the situation and realizing that he could be liable for murder, he fled and went into hiding. It was only upon learning that Dave had somehow survived this fearsome blow that Mick, and in turn the rest of the band, trotted out the feeble excuse to the police and press that this was all part of the group’s new act and was merely a stunt that had gone wrong. Either way, for those who were in attendance that evening it was quite a show!

The lads were also known for being equally as energetic in their pursuit of a good time. Dionysus (also known as Bacchus) is, of course, the Greek god of wine and ritual madness and has, over the years, enlisted many followers. As the Kinks began to enjoy success, Dave became an exuberant adherent of this deity and thoroughly enjoyed his moments of bacchanalia—and who could really blame him? As a young and gifted guitarist, he felt as if he were escaping the tight confines of post-war British society and rigid class structures. As with all of the pop/rock bands of the day, no one knew exactly when the music was going to stop and so they enjoyed the ride while the going was good.

Yet that brawling, rowdy, and raucous behavior eventually led to the Kinks being banned in the United States. During the group’s summer 1965 U.S tour they were preparing for an appearance on Dick Clark’s Where The Action Is television program when Ray claimed that a studio assistant leveled some decidedly derogatory anti-British remarks at him. Ray, exquisitely employing the passive voice to describe what happened during this most unfortunate encounter, relates that a “punch was thrown.”

Irrespective of who started the altercation, the reputational damage had been done with the Kinks being known as a group that was hard to work with. The modern understanding is that the American Federation of Musicians had seen enough and refused any further permits for the group to appear in concert—a serious, and potentially fatal, setback during the high-water years of the British Invasion. 

Yet Ray was made of sterner stuff and so, fortunately, the Kinks story does not end there. The great botanist/scientist Charles Darwin argued that long-term survival goes to those species that can best adapt to changing circumstances and Ray, as we will see, pivoted nicely in a completely new and successful direction. It was, and still is, one of popular music’s most amazing shift of gears so please join me in Part 2 as we follow the changes.

Oh, the reference to Van Halen that I made earlier? Well, Van Halen did an excellent cover of You Really Got Me for their 1978 debut album. (VH You Really Got Me) Years later, Dave Davies was performing this song at a smaller club somewhere in California and after the performance a young man came up to compliment him on playing “an excellent cover of that Van Halen classic.” Ah, such is blissful ignorance of youth! We can only hope that someone explained to this youngster who exactly Dave Davies really was and that it was he, and not Eddie Van Halen, who had actually come up with this famous guitar riff.