Posts Tagged The Kinks

26/08/26 – Counter Culture – Midweek Song List (162)

Welcome to the last Midweek Song List of August — and what a month it’s been. As ever, our readers keep us on our toes. At the start of August, one long‑time follower reminded us of the 80th anniversary of the King David Hotel bombing in Jerusalem. The same reader has now added another grim footnote: Menachem Begin — later Prime Minister of Israel — was also responsible for the kidnapping and hanging of two young British sergeants, Clifford Martin and Mervyn Paice, in July 1947. Both men were unarmed, off‑duty, and simply visiting a café. Their bodies were later strung up in a eucalyptus grove with a booby‑trap mine set beneath them. Our reader believes both men were from Belfast and hopes to confirm more details soon.

With that sombre history lesson out of the way, let’s lift the mood with our traditional mixed bag of music — a selection that goes out midweek on Facebook and later appears on our website in a slightly different written style, but always with the same eclectic choices.

THE SONGS

2e REP – “Le Diable Marche Avec Nous”

If “Le Boudin” is the Foreign Legion’s famous march, then this is its darker, more aggressive cousin. “Le Diable Marche Avec Nous” (“The Devil Walks With Us”) is associated with the 2nd Foreign Parachute Regiment — the elite airborne unit forged in Indochina, Algeria and later Chad. The song’s origins lie in Legion folklore: hard marching, brutal campaigns, and the idea that the regiment carries its own demons into battle. Musically, it’s a driving, percussive chant — the kind that makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck even if your French is as bad as ours.

Cocteau Twins – “Evangeline”

Released in 1993, “Evangeline” is one of the Cocteau Twins’ most shimmering dream‑pop creations. Elizabeth Fraser’s vocals — half‑lyric, half‑incantation — float over Robin Guthrie’s lush guitar textures. The band formed in Grangemouth in 1979 and became pioneers of ethereal, atmospheric music. “Evangeline” captures their mature sound: wistful, weightless, and emotionally ambiguous. A perfect contrast to the military thunder of the Legion.

Criminal Class – “Fighting The System”

A slice of raw, early‑80s British Oi! from Coventry. Criminal Class formed in 1979 and were part of the second wave of street‑punk bands. “Fighting The System” is exactly what it says on the tin: a snarling, defiant anthem built on chanted vocals and driving bass. It’s rough, uncompromising, and politically charged — a reminder of the era when punk was still dangerous.

The Kinks – “Sunny Afternoon”

Released in 1966, this Ray Davies classic is one of the great British pop songs of the decade. Written during a period of tax disputes and personal frustration, Davies channels his irritation into a lazy, sun‑drenched melody. The track topped the UK charts and became a defining moment in The Kinks’ shift toward more observational, character‑driven songwriting. A timeless tune that still feels like a cold drink on a hot day.

Ocean Colour Scene – “The Day We Caught The Train”

From their 1996 breakthrough album Moseley Shoals, this Britpop anthem remains one of OCS’s most beloved songs. It’s nostalgic, melodic, and full of that mid‑90s optimism. The track reached No. 4 in the UK charts and helped cement the band’s place in the Britpop landscape. A perfect sing‑along for late summer.

Robyn – “Always”

Robyn has spent decades redefining pop music, and “Always” is another example of her ability to blend melancholy with dance‑floor energy. Released in 2020 as part of her collaboration with Yaeji, it’s a shimmering electronic track built on repetition, longing, and Robyn’s unmistakable emotional clarity. Modern pop at its most elegant.

Social Distortion – “Ring Of Fire”

Johnny Cash’s 1963 classic gets a punk‑rock makeover courtesy of Social Distortion. Their 1990 cover is louder, faster, and full of swagger — yet still respectful of the original’s melody. Social Distortion formed in 1978 and remain one of America’s most enduring punk bands. Their live shows are legendary, and this track is often a highlight.

Sol Heilo – “Rock Paper Scissors”

Norwegian multi‑instrumentalist Sol Heilo (formerly of Katzenjammer) released this track in 2017. It’s quirky, melodic, and full of her trademark folk‑pop inventiveness. The song blends vulnerability with playfulness, using the childhood game as a metaphor for emotional conflict. A beautifully crafted piece of Scandinavian songwriting.

The Dead Flowers Graves – “Prophetia”

Italian doom metal with atmosphere to spare. The Dead Flowers Graves formed in 2017 and specialise in slow, heavy, ritualistic soundscapes. “Prophetia” is a perfect example: deep riffs, funereal pacing, and a sense of looming dread. Doom metal at its finest — and yes, we’re getting more into it as we get older and slower.

The Valvetones – “The Chance I’ll Have To Take”

A modern rockabilly track with classic 1950s DNA. The Valvetones channel the spirit of Sun Records — slap‑back echo, upright bass, and heartfelt vocals. “The Chance I’ll Have To Take” is a bittersweet love song built on simple, effective storytelling. A gem for fans of vintage‑style Americana.

Kanye West – “Heartless”

Released in 2008 on 808s & Heartbreak, “Heartless” marked a major shift in Kanye’s sound. Built on auto‑tuned vocals and minimalist production, the track explores loneliness, betrayal, and emotional numbness. It became one of his biggest hits and influenced a generation of artists who embraced vulnerability in hip‑hop.

White Lion – “Broken Heart”

A classic slice of 1980s glam metal. White Lion formed in 1983 and blended melodic hooks with big guitar solos. “Broken Heart” first appeared on their 1985 debut and was later re‑recorded in 1991. It’s pure hair‑metal drama: soaring vocals, emotional lyrics, and a chorus built for arenas. A perfect counterpoint to the doom metal earlier in the list.

CONCLUSION

That wraps up the final Midweek Song List of August. As always, this selection goes out first on Facebook midweek — raw, immediate, conversational — and later appears on our website with a slightly different write‑up but the same eclectic mix. Thanks to everyone who sends suggestions, history lessons, and musical rabbit holes. Keep them coming.

See you in September.

 

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Sunny Afternoon: A Powerful Look at The Kinks’ Legacy

A dramatic scene from the musical 'Sunny Afternoon' featuring two characters in an intimate pose, with a backdrop displaying positive reviews and the title of the show.

The Edinburgh Playhouse cast grasp this completely. Danny Horn, as Ray Davies, gives a performance that feels lived‑in rather than imitated. His Ray is a man permanently negotiating with himself — the ambition, the self‑doubt, the instinct to retreat, the compulsion to create. Horn plays him with a kind of wounded intelligence, a songwriter who sees too much and feels even more. It’s a portrayal that understands the cost of being the one who writes the songs.

Oliver Hoare, as Dave Davies, is the opposite kind of energy: wild, impulsive, chaotic, charming, and occasionally unbearable — exactly as Dave should be. Hoare doesn’t soften the edges. He shows the danger and the delight of a man who lived louder than the world around him. When the two brothers clash, it feels real because it is real; the musical doesn’t pretend the band were a harmonious unit. The Kinks were brilliant because they were combustible, and this production honours that.

Harry Curley, as bassist Pete Quaife, brings a quiet, grounding presence — the conscience of the band, the one who sees the fractures forming before anyone else admits they’re there. Zakarie Stokes, as drummer Mick Avory, is the heartbeat of the show. His extended drum solo — a burst of working‑class fury and exhilaration — is one of those rare theatrical moments where the audience stops being polite and simply reacts. It’s sweat, noise, craft, and catharsis.

There’s a particular electricity when a musical arrives in Edinburgh and actually earns its ovations rather than coasting on nostalgia. Sunny Afternoon does exactly that. It’s a show built on songs everyone thinks they know, yet this production understands something essential: The Kinks’ story was never a tidy pop fairytale. It was conflict, class tension, family strain, exploitation, brilliance, and the uneasy business of becoming a national myth while still barely holding yourself together.

The musical also gives space to the people who shaped Ray’s emotional world. Lisa Wright, as Rasa Davies, plays her with warmth and understated strength. She becomes the show’s moral centre — the person who loves Ray but cannot save him from himself. Their scenes carry the ache of a marriage strained by fame, insecurity and the impossible demands placed on women in the orbit of genius. Ray’s parents, played with humour and honesty by Deryn Edwards and Ben Caplan, embody the post‑war working‑class world The Kinks emerged from — a world of ration books, hard graft and dreams that didn’t always fit the available space.

What the musical doesn’t fully tackle — and what hangs over the story whether acknowledged or not — is Ray’s long struggle with self‑destructive behaviour. The real Ray Davies has spoken openly about breakdowns, depression and periods of spiralling instability. The show mainly sidesteps this, understandably for a mainstream musical, but the omission leaves a faint outline. You sense the shadows in Horn’s performance — the fragility, the volatility — even if the script avoids complethly exploring them.

The ensemble deserve enormous credit. They slip between roles — managers, journalists, industry sharks, football fans, bureaucrats — with precision and wit. At one point they tear around the theatre draped in Union flags, celebrating England’s 1966 World Cup victory, which coincided with The Kinks’ rise. It’s chaotic, funny and pointed: a reminder of how national pride, pop culture and political identity became entangled in the 60s. The Scots audience were fairly forgiving here and singing Sunny Afternoon!

The songs, of course, are the spine of the show, but they’re never treated as museum pieces. “Dead End Street” becomes a piece of social realism — a portrait of poor housing, low wages and blocked mobility that punctures the swinging‑sixties fantasy. “Mr Pleasant” is performed with a wicked music‑hall grin, skewering middle‑class hypocrisy with the kind of satire British theatre used to excel at. And “Days”, often chosen for funerals, is delivered with a tenderness that silences the Playhouse. It’s a moment of stillness in a show full of noise and energy — a reminder of how deeply The Kinks’ music has embedded itself in the emotional lives of ordinary people.

The musical doesn’t shy away from the darker forces that shaped the band: the American Federation of Musicians ban, which kept them out of the US for four years; the legal battles with predatory early management; the sense of being outsiders in an industry built to exploit them. Ray’s line about learning more about law than music gets a laugh, but it’s a bitter one.

And then, of course, there’s “Lola.”
The moment the opening chords hit, the Playhouse transformed. People who had been politely tapping their feet were suddenly on their feet, dancing, singing, laughing — the entire theatre lifted into a shared moment of joy. It wasn’t kitsch. It was communal release. A reminder that pop music, at its best, dissolves boundaries and invites everyone into the same joyful, messy human space.

Sunny Afternoon, in this Edinburgh production, becomes more than a jukebox musical. It becomes a meditation on memory, class, family, exploitation and the strange business of becoming a legend. It celebrates The Kinks, yes — but it also interrogates the myths around them. It understands that the band were never just chroniclers of their era. They were critics of it.

And in a world still wrestling with class, identity and the stories we tell about ourselves, that feels more relevant than ever.

Reviewed by Pat Harrington

The next tour stops for Sunny Afternoon:

InTverness – Eden Court, Tue 12 May – Sat 16 May 2026,
Liverpool – Empire Theatre, Tue 19 May – Sat 23 May 2026,
Cardiff – Wales Millennium Centre, Tue 26 May – Sat 30 May 2026

An image promoting 'Lyrics to Live By 2' by Tim Bragg, featuring a vinyl record design with text on a yellow background. The image includes a 'Buy Now' button and highlights further reflections, meditations, and life lessons.

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