First rule of writing exclusively about a particular music artist for more than one blog entry at a time: don't listen to their best-of day in and day out to get the creative juices flowing. I had the "Singles" CD in my car the better part of this past week, and I got tired of the Kinks as far as listening to them for a while. This happens with just about any artist that you overplay, though, so don't doubt my Kinks fandom. I'm just saying I'll be using my mental iPod from now on, at least for a few weeks.
Anyways, I wanted to tackle "Victoria" next because it was actually the genesis of my idea to write about the Kinks in general. Back when the royal baby was on his way (and back before anyone know the sex of the little tot), I began to think of the song "Victoria" as perhaps endemic of the world's seeming obsession with all things royal this past summer. After all, I kept screaming at the TV (and trust me, I didn't seek out wall-to-wall coverage of Will and Kate's bundle of joy; every network or cable news outlet was more than happy to oblige), everyone knows (or should know) that the idea of a monarchy in post-1776 times is just batshit stupid, and besides the Brits have a constitutional monarchy, which is basically there for the sake of tourism. The royal family has about as much real power as George W. Bush did during his "presidency" (zing! Got you again, heartless bastard Dick Cheney!). Imagine if your family was paid to simply appear at places, looking ridiculously decked out, and people took pictures or followed you around with cameras. That's right, the Windsors are Kardashians with less body hair.
But deep down, in a part of me that doesn't come to the surface often (because I am of course opposed to the idea of any kind of hierarchial system which promotes people over others simply by matter of birth), I have to admit that I'm a little interested in the idea of people being born to rule, even if I don't agree with the principle. Back when I was a wee lad, reading encycolopedias for fun, I'd often stumble across the entries for kings, emperors, Roman guys who ruled for maybe a month and a half, anyone who ever found themselves not democratically elected to office (basically every dictator ever) and become fixated on the birth- and death-dates, the time they came to power and the circumstances under which they lost it (natural causes or a jealous son who was eager to get control so that he could hold gladiatorial contests and punish Russell Crowe? The world has to know). I've always retained that sort of interest (I wouldn't call it "morbid fascination," though you might), whether it's kings and queens or rock stars who OD'ed early into the reunion tour that they were hesitant about in the first place. I like figuring out if someone who died in 2013 died before or after their birthday during that year (I like figuring out exactly how old they were, maybe not down to the hour but at least to the day or month). I'm enough of an immature person sometimes that I can't help but snicker when someone dies at the age of sixty-nine. Perhaps I'm just a terrible person.
But I do not "like" the royals of any country, because I don't like the idea of anyone giving themselves carte blanche to rule over people without being held accountable (though of course, you could always have a French Revolution or two to settle the balance). I come from the middle class, or at least the lower rung of that, and certainly some of my dislike is based on the inherent mendacity that comes with seeing someone better off than yourself (or perceiving them to be carefree, though rich people have their problems too; they're just easier to buy off) and envying them. But there's that whole notion, first proposed in Grendel, that basically says kings are the guys who, in a contest over a field or piece of land, have either the cash to buy off the other person or the stones to simply murder them, then claim "divine right of kings." That doesn't sit well with me, as an American and a punk-rock fan. Hatred of wealth and privilege can be corrosive, of course, and I wouldn't suggest a Romanov-style farewell to the Windsors. But maybe we could tone down on the number of royal correspondents (i.e., people who dress really extravagently to be interviewed in their posh country homes) who come out of the woodworks every time Kate Middleton has a contraction.
Like I said, though, I have been known to be a "people in power behaving badly" junkie, and I find it hard to trump the ancient Romans (basically, everyone after Commodus is either bloodthirsty, idiotic, or delusional. What's amazing is that the empire survived Joaquin Phoenix in the first place and stuck around for at least two hundred more years to boot). But the Windsors (real name: something German and hard to pronounce) aren't far off the crazy mark. For every George VI who was an inspiring leader during WWII (and played to perfection by Colin Firth), there's your Edward VII (I think that's the number, anyway the one before George) who abdicates to be with an American woman and oh yeah might have been a Nazi sympathizer. George III went batshit crazy sometime after losing the Colonies in America, and Victoria gave her name to an era in which no one apparently had sex or thought bad things (people did die of tuberculosis, of course, mostly female novelists and entire ships' crews of Arctic explorers). Like Elvis Costello with "Veronica," the Kinks recall this bygone era with tongue-in-cheek, but not at anyone's particular expense. While Costello is the one punk forefather who continues to make significant music and thus unlikely to be on Elizabeth II's knighthood list (no doubt because of the one time Johnny Rotten made that whole song about her being a heartless bitch, or the fact that the Smiths envisioned an England in which the Queen is dead), Ray Davies might get by if he hasn't already. Elizabeth will hear his quaint tales of provincial life, and she'll enjoy the genuine toe-tapping rhythm of this song. But while she's about to bestow the title of Lord upon him, she won't notice the wry smile of Ray Davies pulling another one on the English upper class. That's my hope, anyway; can you imagine anyone in pop music actually *liking* the royal family?
Oh wait, I forgot about the twat everyone now calls "Sir Paul" ;-)
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