The Kinks Soap Opera and Ray Davies longing for normalcy

Posted by Al Barger on August 22, 2005

For awhile there in the 1970s, Ray Davies was just whacked out of his gourd, and turned the Kinks into a vaudeville act. They had gone right on with the concept album idea, and took it to another level with a series of largely overlooked stage productions with horn sections, actresses, costumes and props. The 1975 Soap Opera is a criminally underappreciated classic from that era.

Davies was basically creating campy stage plays, building on the English vaudeville music hall tradition. The same English sentimental traditions that inspired Paul McCartney to write "When I'm 64" and "She's Leaving Home" moved Ray Davies to write stuff like Soap Opera, and its classic centerpiece "You Make It All Worthwhile."

Leave aside for a moment the storyline and high concept, and all that business. Never having been privileged to see any form of the contemporary live performances, we're looking here at the album as the central creative achievement. How does this record sound as a bunch of songs?

Sounds damned good is what. Nearly every single song on this album is exceptional and memorable. Ray may have been running around half nutsy during some of this time, but he was working it out in his art.

The framework of the story concerns a Star who decides to mix with the "Ordinary People," trading places with a dull commoner for a time. The dichotomy of high and low motives comes even in the title of the first song "Everybody's a Star (Starmaker)." He's going to pick some schmoe out and make him a celebrity, because there's a star inside everyone of us- and because the Star wants to prove he's got so much juice that he can turn anyone into a star.

Thus the Star has traded places with normal Norman to "do research for one of my songs." Of course, mixing with the "Ordinary People" starts with sleeping with Norman's wife. "I'm immortalizing his life, and I'll even sleep with his wife, for the sake of art."

Now this setup really tickles me down deep inside. It repays hundreds of listens over a quarter century in a lot of ways. This plays as a beautifully witty statement on the egos of stars- and on the little people who indulge them. Mostly though, it's because those first two songs are both really good songs down underneath. "Everybody's a Star" is a good rousing populist anthem that would sound great pulled out into a mix with the similarly title Sly Stone classic- and nearly as good.

"Ordinary People" really establishes the "soap opera" sound, with the almost 50s doo wop styling, and the saxophone. With the girly choir, it sounds like a very high art idea of a soundtrack for a cheap tv drama. But listen to all the little parts of the arrangement, particularly the understated lead guitar commentary running underneath a lot of the song.

The rest of the album conveys the dramatic life of an ordinary office drone, as relayed by the Star. The soap opera concept really expanded their musical palate, giving the simple basic rock song "Rush Hour Blues" a great slice of personality, with the exchanges with the wife. "Read the paper later, you'll get caught in the queues. Don't rush me baby while I'm reading the news." Melodically, her lines build up this perfect little pitch of anxiety for cool daddy to knock down. Then there are his private laments. Then there are the horn charts. It all ends up being a pretty exotic brew.

There are a lot of outstanding songs here, but "You Make It All Worthwhile" would proably qualify as the centerpiece. Listening to it now, the album and this song particularly seem really gay. [This is five years after "Lola."] This song is an outsider's fantasy, a not quite parodic imagining of a state of normal married life. This is the Star's idea of a nice romantic evening with wifey. It is at once a parody, yet also carries a sincere and sentimental longing. Like I said, it's really gay.

Wifey greets him at the door at the end of the day with the tender piano and the soap opera organs, asking him about his day. He goes off into eloquent little violin backed soliloquoys about the soul deadening burden of his work day, trading out into little vignettes with the wife. The dramatic playlet about the dinner menu still kills me, with wifey's anxious expressions of inferiority for not knowing how to cook that fancy stuff like the Star is used to. The tv drama of the organ cueing the crisis "Oh no, I hate it!" [Shepherd's Pie], that musical affect slays me still after these many years of listening.

This all adds up musically to a really good climax and release, "Come on, darling. Let's go and have dinner!" He's made a convincing setup for the sweeping sentimental declarations of the title. This just works.

Of course, following the travails of the working stiff gives Ray a good spot for a happy hour anthem. Don't stop and think, "Have Another Drink." This is an exceptionally good drinking anthem.

The vaudeville element comes out with the story of a "Holiday Romance." This and the story of the plaster "Ducks on the Wall" might understandably test the patience of some listeners. They come on as novelty songs, perhaps. "Ducks on the Wall" rocks pretty good though in amongst the sounds of the ducks on the wall talking to the narrator.

The "Holiday Romance" however just doesn't ROCK, and it's arch enough that you couldn't really call it soulful. But it's sure cute and catchy, though. After all these years, every little detail of the soap opera strings just seems PERFECT. It's really quite a unique concoction. This also seems among the most music hall type of setups of the album.

I've never quite understood the exact denouement of the story line, but the last two songs make for a pretty big finish musically. The Star or Norman at the end of his 15 minutes laments going back to being merely "A Face in the Crowd." High concepts aside, this is just a beautiful piano ballad as the narrator prepares to let go.

Finally, "You Can't Stop the Music" ends up with a rousing tribute to the immortality of music as something that transcends the individuals who create it. Again with the music hall sentimentality- and some good dramatic guitar hooks.

After a quarter century of listening, I'm not sure whether Davies made a great philosophical and literary statement, or whether he was just full of it. But I'm sure he made a heller batch of songs like nothing else from the Kinks or anybody else.

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