When The Kinks released The Kinks are the Village Green Preservation Society in 1968, the reception it received could be described as nothing less than unfavorable. Sure, they had competition: ’68 happened to be the year the world was introduced to Led Zeppelin, while Jimi Hendrix and The Rolling Stones both dropped albums that have stood the test of time in Electric Ladyland and Beggar’s Banquet.
So it makes sense that the oddball, pseudo-folkish pop ditties of Village Green failed to satiate rock fans in the same way the aggressive and hard-hitting sounds of “Communication Breakdown” and “Voodoo Chile” were able to. Compared to the pounding and cerebral rhythms of “Sympathy for the Devil,” anything off Village Green sounded antiquated and sheepish by comparison.
Which is ironic, considering the band’s three-chord power aesthetic—as seen on such classic tracks as “All Day and All of the Night” and “You Really Got Me”—proved be a direct influence on the likes of Zeppelin and any other band that took the “roll” out of “rock” and turned the form into something far more raucous than its blue suede beginnings.
But as palates were cleansed and tastes began to evolve, the album emerged from a fog of obscurity and was soon praised by fans and critics alike for being the quirky, idiosyncratic pop masterpiece that it is.
Lead singer Ray Davies crafted the album as an homage and lamentation to the pristine nature of English countryside living. Nostalgia weaves its way in and out of each track, the entire experience equaling up to a kind of stroll down memory lane. The album’s most famous track, “Picture Book,” is both a perfect pop tune and a fine summation of the album as a whole: The importance and power of memory is what binds society and makes us a community.
Davies asserts people take “pictures of each other to prove they loved each other a long time ago.” Indeed, shared experiences are a crucial component of human existence; Village Green purports this notion to the nth degree. When the album was released, Davies could see the widening of the gap. Things were disintegrating in the Free Love Movement.
Zeppelin knew it, too: “Communication Breakdown,” besides being a hot-headed rock anthem about chasing chicks, speaks to the emerging disconnect of the counterculture, which would ultimately culminate in the fiasco at Altamont and eradicate ’60s idealism for good. The Kinks managed a similarly prophetic message with Village Green, yet managed to avoid the frenzied vitriol Zeppelin possessed.
All of which to say, while the album may not possess the brazen attitude of its contemporaries, The sweeping textures and layered melodicism featured on songs like “Last of the Steam-Powered Trains” and “Animal Farm” are of a far more nuanced and exceedingly thoughtful nature than other songs of the era.
It may be the oldest cliché in the book, but it’s not inaccurate to say Village Green was far ahead of its time.
However, there are moments when things become indicative of the era. The brooding “Wicked Annabella,” sung by lead guitarist Dave Davies, fits in more comfortably with the late ’60s sound, as does the airy “Big Sky.”
Yet even in these moments of would-be complacency, the album excels in remaining forward thinking. Village Green represents the creative highpoint for The Kinks, who continued a successful career up until the mid ’90s yet never quite achieved the brilliance found here.
