No. 95: The Kinks – Dead End Street (1966)

I’m counting down my 100 favourite songs of all time. To keep this from becoming a Bob Dylan / Tom Waits love-in, only one track per artist is allowed.

Go to 94: Frontier Psychiatrist by Avalanches
Go to 96: Take Me to the River by Al Green



Of the English bands that dominated rock music in the 1960s, The Rolling Stones channeled the rhythm’n’blues of the American Delta, while The Beatles sounded like, well, The Beatles. Which meant it was up to The Kinks to be the quintessential English band of the era.

Not that they started out like that. Like most bands in the early 60s, The Kinks played the kind of garage rock that defined the English invasion. Just way better than anyone else. If it now feels like The Kinks arrived fully formed, it is worth noting that the band’s label, Pye Records, threatened to drop them after their first two singles flopped. So much for the good-old-days myth of artists having time to develop.

Fortunately the band’s founding members had deal-saving tricks up their sleeves in the form of Ray Davies’ song-writing skills and his brother Dave’s ability with a knife. Whilst recording You Really Got Me, Dave decided to give the song’s main riff some extra edge by slicing through the speaker cone in his amp. The unusual buzzing guitar was a perfect match for the song’s lurching lust and propelled it to number one in the UK charts and the US top 10.

With the contract rescued, the following single All Day And All Of The Night repeated the winning formula and reached number two and seven in the UK and US respectively. Both songs are stone cold classics and are said to have majorly influenced later American garage rock and even heavy metal.

The band’s next singles—the slower Tired Of Waiting For You and the jangling pop number, Everybody’s Gonna Be Happy—showed that the brothers were not afraid to abandon their protopunk blueprint, even if their on-stage behavior remained notoriously punkish. Increasingly rowdy live performances throughout 1965 culminated in Dave and drummer Mick Avory having an on-stage fight at a show in Cardiff that left Davies unconscious and needing 16 stitches in his head.

A US tour later that year concluded with the American Federation of Musicians refusing to issue the band further performing permits. Though an official reason was never given, it is assumed the band’s on-stage behavior was to blame; the ban lasted for four years.

At the same time, Ray’s songwriting began to mature, as evidenced by the release of See My Friends. Written during a stopover in India, the song anticipated pop music’s imminent obsession with Eastern vibes and psychedelia. Even more interesting is how Davies takes Indian music chants and motifs and truly merges it with his band’s Western sound. See My Friends is not The Kinks’ subcontinent song, in the way that Norwegian Wood is for The Beatles. Instead it’s the prime example of Davies’ ability to absorb his surroundings but always sound like himself.

The most celebrated instances were to follow and would involve influences much closer to home. A Well Respected Man and Dedicated Follower of Fashion showcased a new kind of Kinks’ song that had more in common with the theatrical style of the British music hall era than the band’s contemporaries. At the same time the lyrics became very topical as Davies began exploring characters and scenes that reflected his hometown of London and the English condition.

The band’s new direction was embraced by the UK public with the singles all reaching the top 10 (even if US success had long faded, possibly as a result of the touring ban). But the pressure of constant touring, songwriting and legal troubles was taking a toll on Davies and just before the band’s third album, Kinks Kontroversy, was released, he suffered a breakdown.

As he convalesced, Davies continued to write songs resulting in a trio of brilliant singles that few bands would ever match. The first was Sunny Afternoon, which reached number one in 1966 and managed to be far less obnoxious whilst complaining about high rates of tax than The Beatles’ Taxman—not to mention catchier. The third was Waterloo Sunset, described as “the most beautiful song in the English language” by critic Robert Christgau.

In between came Dead End Street, a stunning portrayal of working class misery with one foot in the theater and one on the terrace. The lyrics describe cracked ceilings and leaking sinks in a way that encompasses both gritty realism and high drama at the same time. The line “A Sunday joint of bread and honey” seems intensely poetic, almost romantic, but also speaks a bleak truth: life is hard and it probably won’t get any better.

The single was accompanied by a promotional video that isn’t just a band performance, making it one of the first proper music videos. It echoes the morbidity of the song with the band dressed as undertakers and parading a coffin down a London street. Dave Davies later revisited the film’s location in this short film and describes Dead End Street as one of his favorite Kinks’ songs.

For Dave, the song reminded him of his childhood, which also brings to mind a story from the brothers’ youth about their parents hosting all-night parties at their house, which exposed the boys to a wide variety of music. Such an education feels most evident in Dead End Street with its brooding opening horns that later take on a Cockney charm, the rattling drums and rhythmic handclaps, and Ray’s despairing verse contrasting with the bawdy chanting chorus.

Thankfully rowdiness wins out over the despair. Just when it can’t seem to get much worse than “People are dying on dead end street / I’m going to die on dead end street”, the song gets all jaunty with a playful trumpet announcing the chin-up, head-high acceptance of the protagonists. The gallows humor is echoed in the video when the undertakers set their burden down to have a cheeky cigarette and their charge bursts from his box and runs down the street, beginning a comedic chase scene.

Writer Johnny Rogan would later describe Dead End Street as “a kitchen sink drama without the drama—a static vision of working class stoicism”. That feels mostly true, though the song’s upbeat climax suggests a grim determination to enjoy life and not just endure it.

Dead End Street was another top 10 UK hit, but by the end of 1967 the band’s popularity began to wane. Album number five, Something Else By The Kinks, included Waterloo Sunset and was a critical success but did not sell well. To compensate Pye rushed out a new single, the excellent Autumn Almanac, and though this reached the top five, critics began to feel Davies was repeating himself. The Kinks didn’t have another UK hit until Lola in 1970.

Instead the ultimate singles band recorded a series of interesting albums with overarching themes of Englishness and no obvious hits—the most notable of which is The Kinks Are The Village People Preservation Society. Unlike his Carnaby Street-dwelling dedicated follower, Davies’ songwriting was never in thrall to fashion, which perhaps explains why songs like Dead End Street remain so wonderfully relevant today.

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If you like this, try:
You Really Got Me
See My Friends
Sunny Afternoon
Waterloo Sunset
Autumn Autumn
Death Of A Clown - Dave Davies

Interesting essay about Dead End Street, with great information on the recording process.

Go to 94: Frontier Psychiatrist by Avalanches
Go to 96: Take Me to the River by Al Green

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