BLOG 2012

 
Damon Albarn - Ray Davies - White Room by trezz

I was out on Sunday night so I didn't see the closing ceremony of the Olympics. It's no secret I'm a fan of Ray Davies (I've just realised I've played the last ever Kinks' single and one of my favourites, To The Bone, at the last two open-mics I've been to) so I was interested to see the flutter on Twitter and Facebook caused by his performance. I haven't really watched the other acts but catching Ray's performance (22mins in for the next 7days on iPlayer
) along with the trusty and brilliant Pete Mathison who has been with Ray since the Storyteller days in the mid-nineties (Davies was the first to do the Storyteller show for VH1) brought a smile to my face. And it reminded me of a story I've been meaning to tell for a while (well since the Imaginary Man documentary about Davies a while back).

It goes back to when I was a teacher in the nineties. Every summer term, the secondary school I was teaching at would run an activities' week where the school stopped following the curriculum and did "something different". I was lucky enough to be one of about six teachers to take a group of pupils to Lyme Regis for camping, outdoor pursuits and the like. When I say lucky, it would invariably rain and so it would always be a bit of a challenge keeping the pupils occupied. As it was on this particular day, when I was charged with taking about twelve 11-14 year olds into Lyme Regis town so that they could buy presents and souvenirs etc.

I know it sounds like a nightmare scenario but these kids were brilliant and they just behaved themselves as we dawdled from shop to shop. As we left one shop I noticed someone across the high street that I thought I recognised. I couldn't place him at first. And then I realised it was Ray Davies.

Well, as cool as I am (sic) the thought of leaving the poor guy in peace to enjoy the afternoon with his girlfriend / wife lasted a nanosecond.

"Kids, Kids! We've got to go!" I don't know how I did it but I managed to corral all of my charges within seconds and we were heading down the hill to the zebra-crossing twenty metres away as Davies made his way up the hill on the other side of the high street.

We crossed the road and started making our way up the high street.

"Mr Davies! Mr Davies!"

For I am nothing if not polite. And yet I've got a horrible feeling that I probably sounded like Norman Wisdom crying out "Mr Pipkin! Mr Pipkin!"

And as Ray Davies turned around he must have thought what on earth was going on as he saw this mad man racing up the hill towards him, shouting his name, with twelve dumbfounded young teenagers following him.

If I'm honest it was a bit awkward at first, "Mr Davies" was a bit frosty but then I think I would've been too. However he seemed to warm to the situation once he realised what was going on. We chatted a bit. I explained I was a teacher etc. Then I told him about seeing the Kinks for the first time in the 80's at Guildford Civic Hall at the time of the Kinks' hit, Come Dancing. (Can you believe there were only about ten of us in the audience? I didn't mention that bit.) Anyway, we chatted for what couldn't have been more than five minutes and then we (okay, I) finally left the couple in peace.

"Sir, Sir, who was that?"

"That was Ray Davies of the Kinks!"

"Oh."

Nonplussedness.

"Can we go in that shop now?"

"Sure. You can do anything you like."

Bemused looks.

I doubt if any of those pupils (now adults, some with children of their own no doubt - can't anyone slow this "time" down?) who were watching the show on Sunday night made the connection when Davies and Mathison did Waterloo Sunset that they'd actually met the great man. Sha la la indeed.

One final thing, I often mention this when I do a Kinks' or Davies' song. Ray Davies really is one of the "old-guard" that is still cutting it. He's not resting on his laurels, he's not dining out only his past hits. Working Man's Cafe and Other People's Lives offers a commentary on modern day life as relevant as anything I've heard. Indeed Working Man's Cafe seemed prescient of the Bank Crisis / riots. I mean, who else writes lyrics like this?

"Corporations get the tax breaks
While the city gets the crime
The profits going somewhere
But it's neither yours or mine"

In checking the spelling Mathison's name, I've just discovered this: great acoustic versions of You've Really Got Me; To The Bone and a duet with Damon Albun on Waterloo Sunset. I think they must've been recorded a couple years after Ray Davies got harassed in Lyme Regis by a mad teacher and twelve youngsters.