Three reasons I listen to The Kinks:1) Nobody really ever listens to them, so I feel like the privileged 2nd grader who never gets caught playing hide and seek because he knows the special secret hiding spot.
2) They're more interesting than all the bands featured on "Pitchfork's Best New Music," but still makes me feel the same sense of superior indie-ness that Pitchfork's bands might make me feel.
3) They're good.
Arthur is the best of their albums. After I listen to it, I get the urge to call up everyone I know and tell them about the journey I just undertook. Physicists say that time travel is impossible; Arthur is possibly the closest you can get to a time machine in this universe.
And the album does skillfully weave time not only lyrically (which take us from the Victorian period to post WW2), but also musically. Compare the vaudevillian charm of "She's Got a Hat Like Princess Marina" to the psychedelic outro jam of "Australia" to the folky despair of "Young and Innocent Days." And the time traveling doesn't stop there.
The album's best moments are the many time changes. Consider the superb "Victoria." The band is rollicking along with a basic rock beat, when suddenly the bridge cuts the beat in half and beckons for the brass section. It's as if the Queen's own band suddenly invaded the album's recording sessions. Words cannot describe the epic genius of the half-time bridge.
The time changes don't stop there. "Australia" changes time to make room for a Beach Boys-style chorus. It's not as if the time changes exist simply for the time changes. I'm not impressed that there are time changes. I'm impressed by how they add to the song. The Kinks seem to know all the right places to put them. Just when you thought you've got the song figured out, they surprise you with a pleasant little change...
...which brings me to their masterwork, "Shangri-la." I have not heard a song that has covered as much as sonic territory as this one. Starting with a simple acoustic ballad, the song explodes into a hard-rocking bridge, and pushes back in on itself for the finale. It's a pity this album is not more listened to. Historically, it came out alongside The Who's Tommy. It seems as if the general public can only listen to one rock opera at a time, so Arthur was forgotten.
But I should be grateful it was forgotten because if it wasn't, I wouldn't be the 2nd grader who found the secret special hiding spot.
(And thank god I don't have to listen to Pitchfork's Best New Music to feel indie)
It’s not just another typical Tuesday night at Chapman University.