THE KINKS
Misfits (1965)
Arista
Produced by RAY DAVIES

The Kinks by the time they signed to Arista were bitter castaways, exiles from the entire industry with no connection to any of their peers. More and more they were a one-man band distant from the pop music orthodoxy. So it's a surprise that on a record that's defined by his unrest, Ray Davies creates a genuinely accessible pop album, even more surprising that it's wonderful.

After the flood of concept albums on RCA and the tentative SLEEPWALKER, the good-natured intimacy of MISFITS is off-putting but extremely comforting. More than any other Kinks album, this is one you can hide in, away from your troubles, marking the beginning of their "populist" era, far from the very wry and very British glimmer of their '60s work. The next few years would see the Kinks embraced more than ever by America... it's true that the U.S. was probably more ready for them now, but it's also worth pointing out that the Kinks had changed and matured a good deal, by some accounts not for the better. I count this record and the trio of superb LPs that followed -- LOW BUDGET, GIVE THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT, and STATE OF CONFUSION -- as an important cornerstone of the Kinks' catalog, but MISFITS reaches above the others and achieves that much more.

It's essentially an album of very commercial ballads, but don't call it a sellout move; these melodies envelop you slowly and always find a way to get under your skin and move you. Thematically, a man is losing his faith in many things... but somehow, somewhere he finds consolation, and his voice is sweetly resigned, opening up new doors for the sound of the band, especially on the quietly stellar title track and the stunning "Rock 'n' Roll Fantasy." For whatever it's worth, it's refreshing to hear a band embrace new sounds without wasting them on dull songs. "Permanent Waves" could have been on MUSWELL HILLBILLIES but it's complemented here by some excellent (if highly dated) synthesizer work.

That song is among those that actually makes new inroads for the Kinks. In contrast to much of their earlier '70s work, "Permanent Waves," "Hay Fever," the musically adventurous, bitterly satirical "Black Messiah," and the brilliantly prophetic "Out of the Wardrobe" (about the marital shakeup caused by a crossdressing fetish - rhyme of the century: "He's not a faggot as you might suppose / He just feels restricted in conventional clothes") are novelties that go somewhere. If you can turn songs into pure gags without them becoming stupid and monotonous, you're really blessed with a rare gift. The conclusion of "Wardrobe" is somewhat... well, touching, going at least one step beyond the already brilliant teasing androgyny of "Lola." (And of course the Replacements would go all the way with the theme in 1984 on a song as moving as you thought it would be funny.)

The roaring rock move "Live Life" forecasts the next album with, shock of shocks, great lyrics displaying a slice of semi-political wit. and for the record, the chorus is damned good advice. In a way, convention seems like an escape for them. The tight confections like "In a Foreign Land," with its beautiful and unusual vocal crescendoes, come off without a hitch, and the big monster-ballad "Trust Your Heart" (why, hello, Paul McCartney) show the Kinks as arena-ready without being obvious and hamhanded.

The closing "Get Up," the phenomenal "Misfits," and "Rock 'n' Roll Fantasy" all have the same focus, and all do plenty with it, but the last one is the most unforgettable, throwing the Kinks into a new era of self-realization with reflective lyrics recalling the past, casting doubt and hope on the future, and celebrating the power of the music while questioning just how much it can possibly do for someone. It's skeptical and almost angry in its near-rejection, but ultimately the character in the song living out the fantasy of the title is a hero in his own fashion, and in the Kinks' eyes, something of a Survivor. A bit like Ray Davies and his brother Dave.

LOW BUDGET would amp up the pop bliss of all things, cranking the guitars up, simplifying the songs, and making the parody and sympathy more explicit, and in a way that is a classic album, but this one -- calculated yet raw and unkempt, in a fascinating musical contradiction that seems typical of the band and so many others searching for a new identity after years in the business, and god knows it was a business by now -- really makes a mark. Even if it doesn't all hang together so perfectly, you roll with it in the funny moments and the sad ones. They've got the same charm as always, but they're doing new things with it. What a relief, even twenty-five years later.