Of course, this sort of thing is not entirely original. Brian Wilson has performed two Beach Boys albums in concert over the past couple of years – Pet Sounds and the legendary SMiLE . However, this was the first time I had noticed local musicians were doing this sort of thing – and definitely the first time I had a chance to attend this type of concert.
The cover charge was only $5, and it was only a 25 minute drive, so it seemed a relatively small investment.
Ironically, I am not a big fan of The Kinks. Not that I dislike their music – what I've heard is perfectly fine. But I've never been inspired to buy one of their albums. The review made Village Green sound really unique, as did several reviews on Amazon, so I thought ‘What the hey'.
The concert venue, the Electric Chair, is on SW 64 th . The venue is owned and operated by Beat Books. This is a new location for Beat Books. I had visited the store in their original location, a little over a year ago, and felt like I was stepping into the late 60s.
In any other state it would have felt like the mid 60s, the 60s didn't make it to Oklahoma until about 1969 or '70.
Turned out the venue was about 75 ft long and 50 ft wide, with a high ceiling. Looked like a typical warehouse space. The guy at the door asked if I had any alcohol, or was planning to bring any in. The point of this was he would need to check my i.d. if I planned to bring in alcohol. He helpfully pointed out that there was a Quik Stop right across the street if I wanted to get some beer.
Nope. No 3.2 beer for me, thank you.
About fifty metal folding chairs were lined up along the long sides of the rectangle.
I got there about 10 minutes before the concert was going to start (8:00). I was alone in the warehouse. Sometime after 8, another guy came in. The owner walked through, looking he could have been Allen Ginsberg's brother (horn-rimmed glasses and all), the other guy asked if he could go into the bookstore section. "Yeah," said the owner, "it's open."
More time passed. One or two more people showed up. I began to question whether this little jaunt was that great an idea after all. Somewhere between 8:30 and 9, I heard the owner on the phone: "The earliest it'll start is 10:00."
Members of the band started to filter in, tune their instruments, hook up the speakers. One the band members came around where we were sitting: "I know this was listed to start at 8, but it doesn't look like we'll start until about 10. The opening band hasn't even arrived yet. But the bookstore is open, so check it out. Tons of goodies guaranteed."
Well, ten o'clock is my pumpkin hour. On the other hand, I had come a ways and had spent some money for an adventure. So, I compromised with my inner miser, and committed to staying until I felt like I had heard five dollars worth of music.
I wandered the book store portion for about an hour. As you might expect, Beat Books had a number of titles from the Beat Generation – Kerouac, Ginsberg, Burroughs. That whole crew. Healthy selection of 60s stuff too, including Abbie Hoffman's autobiography. I was tempted to nab that one, but I had already spent my book budget.
Sounds drifted from the warehouse that sounded somewhat hopeful, so I meandered back there. Sure enough, the opening act had arrived – guitar, bass, and drums. The Evangelicals might have been high school age or early college. They had driven up from Norman. If their music was as religious as their name, I couldn't tell. The vocals bounced into the high ceiling and came back as gibberish. Like some other language that had little relationship to an earthly human tongue.
The main thing that impressed me about their playing was the guitarist, who was also the lead vocalist. His right hand was a constant blur. Well, now and then it would slow down to something sweet and melodic, but mostly it was thrash. Speed. Blur. Distortion.
Ah, youth.
My inner miser wanted to renegotiate our contract at this point. It was getting late, and I was getting tired. Plus, people were smoking cigarettes, and that was pretty unpleasant. Well, ok. I'll stay long enough for the equivalent of side one of the Kinks album – which I figured would be about six songs.
It took another 15 to 30 minutes for the Evangelicals to strike their gear, and the main act to get their stuff set up.
According to the reviews, Village Green Preservation Society is a concept album in which Ray Davies (the Kink's primary songwriter) waxes nostalgic for British rural life of his youth. The Gazette pointed out that some of this nostalgia reflected the way he wishes it had been, rather than the reality. To paraphrase Karl Shapiro.
It was clear the lyrics were important. Unfortunately, most of this group's vocals were also consumed by the space. Concrete floor, brick walls, concrete ceiling. No acoustical tiles anywhere. Concrete is especially unforgiving with sound waves. Drums and guitars get emphasized over vocals.
But musically, this group was tight. And it was clear that Davies' original music was quite accomplished. A little blues, a little music hall, a little pop. The full mix.
I stayed through the penultimate song of side two. By that point, I'd caught my second wind. Besides, I was enjoying the music.
It was also a multi-media event. A woman had a projector on which she did those swirling colors like you see in documentaries of the Fillmore. Several women (and a few men) wore an artist's colorful ceramic corsets. Two college age girls dressed as cheerleaders did a dance just in front of the band for one song. Then they quickly stripped down to bras and panties and danced for the next tune.
Yep. Pretty much like an Okie version of the 60s.
I stayed awake on the drive home. Hit the bed sometime after one, and fell asleep by one thirty.
Though I'm within spitting distance of my half century, I guess I'm not too old for this sort of thing yet.
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