1984 album in review: The Kinks--Word of Mouth
When I say "love," I mean it. It is not an empty platitude. I adore this band. They are among my very favorite musicians of all time. Certainly, they are in my top five. Depending on the day, they are my number one.
As it turns out, the Kinks released an album in 1984: Word of Mouth.
Now, Word of Mouth would probably not be considered by many to be among the best of 1984. It wouldn't make any top ten lists, top twenty lists, or even top fifty lists.... but I like the album. I wouldn't quite say I love the album, but it's highly underappreciated and it's an enjoyable listening experience.
Allow me an attempt to place this album in historical context, off the top of my head for the most part. So this is a "Cliff's Notes" history of the band and if any super nerdy Kinks fans are reading this and I got any facts wrong, I apologize. I know how some of you can be.
The Kinks released their first records in 1964 and looked for a time like they'd join the Beatles and Stones among the most popular rock 'n' roll bands in both Europe and the United States, but in 1965, the Kinks had a big brouhaha with the musicians' union in the United States and were banned from performing in the U.S. until 1969. That put a serious crimp in their commercial prospects. Between 1966 and 1969, the band--and specifically main songwriter Ray Davies--retreated to London and fully embraced their Englishness with albums like Something Else by the Kinks, The Kinks are the Village Green Preservation Society, and Arthur or the Decline and Fall of the British Empire. (Concise album titles were not a strong suit for the Kinks at this point in their career).
Once the Kinks ability to perform in the U.S. was reinstated, their albums became increasingly theatrical. Ray wrote sprawling concept albums that didn't sell well, though the band put on some elaborate live shows, perhaps making up for being shut out of America for three years. Eventually, their record company, RCA, had enough and the band signed with Arista Records. Arista's founder and president Clive Davis essentially told the band, "No more concept albums," and frankly, all of the band not named Ray Davies was tired of them as well. Thus began a commercial renaissance for the Kinks in the United States. The arena-friendly, rocking records they released in the late '70s and early '80s sold reasonably well and their stripped-down live shows (no more backup singers, brass instruments, or theatrics) were a hit. They also were inspirational for a new generation of up-and-coming rock bands.
Between 1977 and 1983, the Kinks released five studio albums (Sleepwalker, Misfits, Low Budget, Give the People What They Want, and State of Confusion) and one double LP live album (One For the Road). While none of these albums have the pastoral, eccentric, distinctly British charm of their prime era (the forementioned 1960s albums, plus 1970's Lola vs. Powerman and the Moneygoround, Part I and 1971's Muswell Hillbillies), they are all fine albums with at least a few true gems per record. Every so often, Ray would flash some of the wit and whimsy of his 1960s self. This was most evident on the band's 1983 single "Come Dancing," a nostalgic but bittersweet look back at the 1950s dance palais of London and Ray's sister who went there regularly. The song is a touching remembrance of those days but laments the passage of time and how the dance hall has been razed in favor of a car park (parking lot, for all you non-Brits). This is a bit of a reductive description of the song, as it features more layers than that. "Come Dancing"'s artful video, directed by Julien Temple, was a hit on all the burgeoning music video networks and programs, propelling the single to a U.S chart position of #6 on the Billboard Hot 100, the band's biggest hit since the 1960s. The album on which "Come Dancing" was included, State of Confusion, hit #12 on the Billboard charts.
With all that success, there had to have been hope that the follow-up album, Word of Mouth, would be about as successful as State of Confusion. Unfortunately, that was not to be. Perhaps this was due to the album not having a single that could match "Come Dancing" (even though this writer believes the leadoff single from Word of Mouth, "Do It Again," is a killer track that in a fair-and-just world would have been a massive hit--more on that later). Or, maybe it simply had to do with a fickle record-buying public that considered the Kinks to be a "one-hit wonder" and had moved on to new and shinier toys. Whatever the case or cases may be, the album sputtered to #57.
While we are discussing reasons the album underachieved commercially, we need to talk about the record sleeve: it's terrible. Even by 1980s standards, it's a horror show. The Kinks were always a bit hit-or-miss with their album covers, and this one is a definite miss. Even when I first bought this album in 1987 (in a cut-out bin), I thought the cover was ugly. The rosy-red and pink lips simply don't match the music. The scrawled "The Kinks" looks like a half-assed attempt to be "new wave" or "punk." Wikipedia credits Renate Sturmer with the illustration. I looked her up on Google and she has had a long and successful career in design. I don't mean to question her artistic ability, I just don't think her illustration was the correct choice for this album. So Renate Sturmer, if you are reading this, please don't hate me.
"Do It Again" crashes in like a rocket plunging to earth as the first track of side one, and we're treated with a prime Kinks rocker. Dave Davies's power chords fuel the song and Ray's lyrics of uncertainty and struggling in the rat race are simply prime Ray Davies. "Standing in the middle of nowhere/Wondering how to begin" are the first lines of the song. Ray has an uncanny ability to write songs that many people can identify with. We all, to some degree, feel like hamsters on a wheel.
The title track, "Word of Mouth," is another rocker with craggy, jagged lead guitar work from Dave.
By the third track, the rockers give way to the bright pop of "Good Day." This is a case of bouncy music masking the depression and anxiety in the lyrics. This is a song that indirectly addressed the passage of time and mortality. Ray--who is well-known as a film aficionado (as well as occasional actor and director)--laments about reading that British film star Diana Dors has died, and part of his youth has died along with her. In some respects, this song is a companion piece to "Come Dancing."
"Living on a Thin Line" is probably best known now for its appearances in The Sopranos. This is a Dave Davies composition, and one of the best compositions of his career. Britain is deep in Thatcherism in 1984, and this song is about a crumbling nation that has lost its way. ("There's no England now/All the wars that were won and lost/Somehow don't seem to matter very much anymore"). Dave goes on to lament about the shitty world we are leaving for our children, and with what is happening right now, this seems especially prescient. These are among the best lyrics Dave ever wrote, and the ominous music is a perfect match.
A bluesy harmonica coupled with an almost punky, fast-paced tempo powers "Sold Me Out." This is another "little man gets screwed by the system" song--a theme that Ray Davies explored often. It might also be about a "musician gets screwed by the music industry" song. This is also a topic Ray explored often in his career, including the entire Lola vs. Powerman... album.
The theme of economic hardship continues with "Massive Reductions." This song is about a successful, well-to-do executive (or white-collar worker) who sees his big house, big car and expense account disappear due to "inflation" and the resulting "massive reductions." Now this formerly wealthy guy is on welfare. This is a good song, though the distinctly '80s synthesizer has not aged particularly well.
Dave returns with the rocker "Guilty." Dave's keening, anguished vocals perfectly convey--as near as I can tell--his frustration about a powerful person or system crushing the souls and will of common people. In his earlier songs from the '60s and early '70s, Dave's lyrics were more impressionistic than his older brother Ray. Whereas "Living on a Thin Line" is unusually straightforward for Dave, "Guilty" is a bit more of a word salad, not as easy for the dimwit author of this piece to interpret.
On the subject of Dave's (and Ray's) singing voices: that is a major part of the band's appeal. There is a homeliness and vulnerability to the Davies' brothers' singing that lends authenticity to their tales of downtrodden but hardworking and determined folks.
The next track, "Too Hot," explores the then burgeoning exercise and workout fads of the early and mid-'80s but is not without social commentary thrown in for good measure. Ray seems bemused by the various people he sees in London knocking themselves out to stay fit while their lives outside the workout room crumble.
The final three tracks on the album, "Missing Persons," "Summer's Gone," and "Going Solo" are about broken dreams, the end of good times, and relationships falling apart. It is probably not coincidental that Ray's own domestic situation with Chrissie Hynde--they were never married but did have a child together--was nearing its end.
My recent listening experiences with Word of Mouth, in preparation for this review, were quite enjoyable. The album is underappreciated and well worth exploration by the uninitiated and rediscovery for anyone who has listened to it in a long time.
In the aftermath of Word of Mouth, the Kinks soldiered on for about another decade, finally dissolving in 1996. After this album, the band and Arista parted ways. The Kinks recorded two albums for MCA (the undervalued Think Visual and the not-so-good UK Jive) before moving on to Columbia, where they released their final studio album, Phobia, in 1993.
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