The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society: The Album Review

The Kinks Are...the classic that almost was.

Ray Davies: lead vocals, guitar, keys, harmonica

Dave Davies: guitar, lead vocals on "Wicked Annabella"

Pete Quaife: bass, backing vocals

Mick Avory: drums

Nicky Hopkins: keys

Rasa Davies: backing vocals

Various uncredited session musicians: orchestra

Produced by Ray Davies, engineered by Brian Humphries and Alan MacKenzie

Author’s Note: This post corresponds to the Village Green Preservation Society episode of Vinyl Monday, originally posted 5/13/2024. Save for audio/editing jokes that cannot be included in a text format, this is a faithful adaptation of the review chapter. To watch the full episode, scroll to the bottom of this post or visit my YouTube channel here.

Like many other American fans, I have an interesting relationship with the Kinks. One-half of the famously testy Davies (think a proto-Gallagher brothers) got the whole band thrown out of the United States for a few years. As a result, their studio albums are quite difficult to find here, and they never really made the mainstream impact they could’ve. I heard the Kinks’ early hits on classic rock radio, luh-luh-luh-luh-“Lola”through early alt-rock playlists populated by Lou Reed’s Transformer and such, heard “Waterloo Sunset.” And for a long time I wasn’t familiar with much else. It’s no wonder I dig their early stuff; I heard “Have Love Will Travel” at age 13 and it ruined me forever.

As for Village Green: I don’t think I would’ve liked it any earlier than this stage of my life. When you’re just getting into ’60s music, you usually aren’t thrown in the deep end with concept albums and baroque pop and the like. This is both. To understand why Village Green Preservation Society is...well...Village Green Preservation Society, we have to understand where the taste for the Preservation came from. What did the Kinks want to preserve and why?

The mid-late 1960s didn’t just see a cultural revolution. There was a massive overhaul of Britain’s infrastructure. Looking back, the government essentially forced Britain’s hand into the future. Some sectors of public pushed back on this makeover, seeing it as a hit to Britain’s identity and destruction of history. Seeing artifacts of working-class New England disappear, tobacco barns being torn down to build Amazon fulfillment centers and a new Dunkin cropping up on every corner, I can relate to what these people were feeling.

This revolution had a double-whammy for The Kinks. With groups like the Experience Cream, and the Yardbirds nearing the end of their original runs, Fleetwood Mac in their very infancy, all domineering the mainstream, and with psychedelia waning, British pop music was sounding more American and back-to-basics than ever. You can imagine the Kinks couldn’t relate to this trend: they were banned from the United States.

Ray simply had too big of an idea for the back-to-basics thing. He wanted to make an album that was a snapshot of all things British. Its sound was in part influenced by the Davies brothers’ time going to dance halls as kids. See the jangly piano and brass; which in turn pushed this thing in the direction of baroque pop. This quality is boosted by presence of the Mellotron – the same model John Lennon played on Sgt. Pepper’sand Rod Argent played on Odeyssey and Oracle! Thematically, Ray captured the Britain the guys grew up in. “Last Of The Steam-Powered Trains” is about the dismantling of rural railways. “Animal Farm” and “Village Green” reminisce about the good old days living in the country. The title track heralds preservation of the institutions of old. (Yes, there are two songs called “Village Green” AND “The Village Green Preservation Society.” And yes, this was murder to deal with during the listening phase!) Songs like “Sitting By The Riverside” appreciate nature; following the tradition of writers like William Blake. And of course, there’s a hefty dose of nostalgia. Pictures, photos, and photography galore crop up again and again in the lyrics.

Considering how niche their stuff can be, everybody’s ideal entry point for the Kinks will be different. Paul Williams said as much in the Rolling Stone review of Village Green: he “never had much luck turning people on to the Kinks” and hoped the reader was already hip to them. That seems to be the key to appreciating Village Green unfortunately. Admittedly it’s not a record for casual fans. I was debating whether to cover this or Lola Versus Powerman very late in the process; to the point at which I filmed two outtros for my Back To Black installment of Mod Month! One with the Lola jacket and one with Village Green’s! Through first listen-through of Village Green I did not warm up to it much. But after finding out about the epic release date fuckery.

Ray shot the Kinks in the foot by delaying Village Green’s release to November 22nd, 1968.

You know. The same day as the fucking White Album.

I was like “Okay. If for nothing but the story, I have to give this thing a second chance.” Boy am I glad I did.

An important note: I really had to rely on active listening for this album. That’s when I sit down with my setup and do nothing but listen. That’s because the mix of Village Green on streaming services is hot fucking garbage. Of the title track especially. Sorry Paul, having the vocals mixed so low and Peter Quaife’s bass so high irks me. If it’s shoegaze? Fine. I’ll crank the volume to work out what the hell they’re saying. But I don’t want to have to turn up a late 1960s pop record to hear the dimension. I want it there from the jump.

Aside from fidelity issues, The Village Green Preservation Soceity does exactly what it’s supposed to do in one of early concept albums. It defines its character and story. Just as the Beatles became Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, the Kinks become the Village Green Preservation Soceity, with interests in upholding the simple pleasures of the old world. Vaudeville, teatime, hitting up the pub with the boys, Sherlock Holmes and ...virginity? (I think he means unspoiled land by this?) And of course, condemning modern real estate development.

Do You Remember Walter?: The Rolling Stone review points out a certain detachment in Ray’s writing. We’ve passed through nostalgic declarations of “The Village Green Preservation Society” and are on to a more cynical “Do You Remember Walter?” Is it just me or does the opening remind me of...something? OH DEAR GOD IT’S WEEZER. I’m just kidding, it’s ELO! Although now you have to live with the knowledge that Weezer covered “Mr. Blue Sky” on the Teal album and it’s...not bad? I don’t know if that says more about Weezer or me.

“Do You Remember Walter” still reminisces, but it’s more bitter than the sweet jam and custard pies of the previous track. Apparently Ray based this song on his own childhood best friend; musing about his terribly mundane whereabouts. Our narrator ponders the whereabouts of his titular childhood best friend, concluding that maybe the most magical thing that could’ve happened to him is a run-of-the-mill plaintive existence.

“I bet you’re fat and married and you’re always home in bed by half-past eight. And if I talked about the old times you’d get bored and you’ll have nothing more to say.” To Walter, nothing is as exciting as living in the present. There’s something sweet and innocent about that. This is a very melodic record, there’s like three melodies going on here at once and the vocals don’t stay on one note for very long. All are equally infectious and very pleasing to the ear.

Picture Book: Village Green has a running theme of photos, photography, and pictures. Is there anything more nostalgic than an album full of Polaroids? “Picture Book” is the vignettes of any family’s life. Summer vacations, Uncle Charlie boozing it up with his friends, even your embarrassing bare-ass baby photos. “When you were just a baby, those days when you were happy, a long time ago.” If only life were as simple as it was back then! But Ray’s detached tone tells us it was never that simple. In his own review of Village Green, supreme curmudgeon Robert Christgau says this song was the most obvious choice for a single, had there been the interest. Surprise surprise, I disagree. “Picture Book” is one of the Kinks’ signature songs for a reason: it’s a catchy acoustic guitar-driven shuffle. Would’ve done numbers here in the States’ folk wave. It’s delightfully’60s through and through, right down to the “la la la la la”s...hey where have I heard that before? Oh hey, Mac DeMarco!

Johnny Thunder: Yes, the New York Doll’s namesake! “Picture Book” is quite strong for pop purposes. You knew that, I knew that. But “Johnny Thunder” took me by surprise in my early listen-throughs. It seems Johnny was destined for mythology; whether that be in the rock-and-roll canon or in the canon of VG. He lives on water, feeds on lightning; embodying the simple thrills of youthful brash decisions. He’s the exact opposite of Walter. The wafting, almost The Who-esque acoustic guitar and breezy la la la’s seem to invoke a flower child character. It makes sense for a true individual who doesn’t want money. The lead guitar almostshadows the vocals for “thunder and lightning” then shies away. I’m addicted to this otherwise insignificant choice.

Last Of The Steam Powered Trains: So you know how I said Village Green was a celebration of all things British? Yeah, all that falls apart once you get to this song. It’s literally “Smokestack Lightning.”

Listen for youself!

In a way, maybe "Steam Powered Trains" does preserve something for listeners in the current day: the ’60s British blues band boom. You literally could not escape it by 1968, the Kinks had it in their roots, no wonder this sound weasled its way into Village Green.And I’m glad it did. It was the first tune that stuck out to me as familiar; these are sounds I’ve spent a lot of time with and the Kinks do it well. It’s not a bust-the-doors-down rocker by any means. The highest they crank the volume is like a 6. One might call it reserved. But the way this song builds upon itself, ramps up, and crests reveals the sense of play that motivated Village Green’s creation.

The spoken work on Big Sky reminds me of what Ginger Baker did with “Pressed Rat And Warthog” on Wheels Of Fire a few months earlier. Both songs are very ~British~ in this respect. But I find “Big Sky” more endearing than “Warthog.” I dig this beefy, really bassy guitar tone on the scooping riff. In a sea of baroque pop sounds like acoustic guitars, harpsichords, and Mellotrons, it provides necessary body; and a sonic link to the previous track.

Sitting By The Riverside is a totally carefree tune I could imagine playing on a swan boat. It’s very theatrical – come on, it even has accordion! But I like the noisy muddy crescendos, they’re an unexpected elaboration on something that’d otherwise read saccharine. (Update: 5 months later, these delirious crescendos are one of the most memorable things about the whole album.)

I don’t want to jump the gun or make dear “Picture Book” feel left out but man, “Animal Farm” might be the strongest song on the record. To begin with, it has one of my favorite opening lines in any song:

“This world is big and wild and half-insane”

Half the appeal is the cadence; a topsy-turviness reminiscent of Sgt. Pepper’s big-top moments (i.e. “Being For The Benefit of Mr. Kite,” “When I’m Sixty-Four”) Super memorable, it sticks to your ribs. You guysalready know I’m a sucker for jangly saloon piano. This one’s got it! But the guys blend it with acoustic guitar, touches of a keyboard, and orchestral flourishes. The bassline isn’t imposing, the drums eb and flo. The Kinks did some good backing vocals but these excel by virtue of simplicity. A song about retreating to farm life could be so hokey, but the instrumentation totally transforms it, it’s a tasteful and balanced song.

But it’s not sterile. Ray quite passionately yearns for barn cats and dogs. Oddly enough, this is the most emotional I’ve heard him; the narrator really regrets leaving this life behind. It tugs at your heartstrings, especially if you’re like me and you left the country too.

Having a track titled “The Village Green Preservation Society” and another titled “Village Green” has been confusing as hell for the notetaking process. You couldn’t have picked anything else Ray?? Anyway, “Village Green” cranks the “baroque” in baroque pop right up to 10 with its harpsichord and brass. I might also file “Village Green” under medieval revival with this very strong emphasis on character-based narrative and what sounds like a clarinet. The narrator mopes about his childhood love marrying the grocer and his hometown becoming a tourist spot for dumb Americans to gawk at.

Starstruck was somehow chosen as pseudo-single off Village Green. And wouldn’t you know it, it flopped. Literally had they just swapped the A and B-sides it would’ve fared so much better with the pop landscape in ’68. I don’t think it would’ve been a blockbuster hit, but it would’ve at least charted. That’s not to say I don’t like “Starstruck.” I do. It’s nice and lightly vaudevillian; reminds me of something Lou Reed would’ve donefor Transformer. That theme of fame and a flashy lifestyle not being all it’s cracked up to be reads Warholian. It’s just not single material.

Phenomenal Cat reads like a fable and kinda loses me. But I genuinely appreciate the blending of the flute sample with Mellotron and I get a kick out of the sped-up fum-fum-diddle-um-di. I think that was drummerMick Avory? Ray took himself way too seriously to be doing stuff like that. You know who didn’t take themselves too seriously to do stuff like that? Syd Barrett. This reads like his Piper-era writing, with gnomes and scarecrows and shit.

All Of My Friends Were There is where my focus starts to waver, probably because the overarching theme is starting to spiral out of control. Ray sounds drunk belting, "All of my frieeeeends were theeeere!" I'm sure they were, buddy. The flow of the chorus and organ that pans in in stereo and out is quite nice. I wish this was the idea that was elaborated upon. I have the same issue with this that I had with Cream’s “Passing The Time” – maybe this will grow on me the way that one did.

Wicked Annabella is the local folklore character; the bedtime story you tell the littles at night so they won’t misbehave. Don’t go out in the woods at night or Annabella will steal you away!

...and I’m a bit of a Dave Davies girlie? I channeled him on this day with the ruffles and lace on my dress. And let’s be real, I’ll take any excuse to wear it. It’s my favorite dress I’ve ever made! Dave was the right choice to perform this darker, witchier number with the “dum dum da dum dum.” His voice carries this atmosphere well...and he had great hair. We’re rocking with super groovy psychedelic drums thanks to Mick, grittier grimier guitar and bass. But it’s not...actually grimy. Grimy by Village Green standards, which is like, grimy as a wrinkly shirt. Paul was right about Village Green having lots of texture. Like that of “Last Of The Steam Powered Trains,” I’m drawn to this texture. It fits right into my fall playlists. (Note: something inexplicably compelled me to cover this album in spring.)

Then we have Monica, the real-life counterpart to the mythical Annabella. You know. The town tramp! “Everyone knows that Monica glows at night.” And we hear from the poor soul who fell in love with her: “I shall die if I should lose Monica!” In subject matter it’s a proto-“Lola,” in music it has a quirky calypso flavor.

Aaaaand we’ve fully spun out by People Take Pictures Of Each Other. This entirely goofy, cartoony observation on how ridiculous it is that we take photos of everything to capture the moment. In the age of screens and social media, this sentiment has aged like fine wine. But maybe don’t drink it because if it sounds like this I think the jug was spiked. “People Take Pictures” takes a quite absurdist angle on something so sad: none of these moments can truly be captured because you can’t ever bottle the feeling. Is it an apt closer? In theory? Yes. In wack-ass execution? Not really. It’s unfortunate that Village Green stumbles at the finish line this way, especially if you don’t have the orchestral bit to finish it off. Due to rights issues, only some vinyl runs had it.

Maybe the real Village Green Preservation Society was the friends we made along the way? I don’t know.

Really though. What a baffling little record, for its time especially. In its historical context, it sticks out like a sore thumb. This was a time for pulling your socks up and putting your foot down. And at a first glance, this stuff reads as buttoned-up and pacified. Lolly in your mouth and everything. Square. Egads! But the Kinks weren’t innocents nor ignoramuses, the Kinks were no squares. Like another forgotten baroque pop classic that’s getting its dues, The Zombies’ Odessey and Oracle, Village Green is a prime example of happy music, sad lyrics. All these vignettes Ray and the Kinks have shown us, these people and places, are long gone. They’re never coming back, they’re just photos in the album. Village Green’s strongest quality aside from impeccable musicianship – it’s remarkable how well all fifteen of these zany ideas are executed – its strength lies in how it handles nostalgia. Sure, we can indulge, but we can’t escape. When we try, we get...disruptions. (See “People Take Pictures.”)

That’s why Village Green is slowly gaining the recognition it deserves. Is it a timeless classic like I’ve seen it heralded time and time again? Absolutely not! This thing is so 1968 my teeth hurt.

But A. that’s the beauty of baroque pop, it could have only come from the mid-late ’60s. It’s timeless in how dated it is.

And B. what’s truly timeless is the subject matter. Nostalgia is bigger than ever.

Think about it: instant film is more popular than ever. Synth-pop and disco sounds rule the pop charts in the form of pop princesses Dua Lipa, Sabrina Carpenter, and Chappell Roan. Songs that are 50+ years regularly blow up on Tiktok. “Love Grows Where My Rosemary Goes,” anyone? And physical media is booming. Zoomers were the main demographic for buying vinyl, CDs, and cassettes last year. Me and my 1100+ albums are living proof of that statistic!

I’m not sure how to close this out, other than to state the obvious: Village Green is perfectly suited for Vinyl Monday. An obvious choice, really. This corner of the internet is a little Preservation Society in and of itself, is it not? Silly as it can be, it would be silly not to preserve this in its ranks. Village Green is everything this place is. Textured, sappy, varied but tightly woven. Above all, it’s just far removed enough to see all the most beautiful things with a discerning eye.

Personal favorites: “Picture Book,” “Johnny Thunder,” “Last Of The Steam Powered Trains,” “Big Sky,” “Animal Farm,” “Wicked Annabella”

– AD ☆

Watch the full episode above!