By Ray Davies
As a boy in post-War England, mythical Kinks' singer/songwriter Ray Davies fell in love with America--its video clips and tune, its tradition of freedom, fed his mind's eye. Then, as a part of the British Invasion, he toured the USA with the Kinks in the course of the most tumultuous eras in fresh history--until the Kinks workforce used to be banned from acting there from 1965-69. Many excursions and journeys later, whereas residing in New Orleans, he skilled a transformative occasion: the taking pictures (a results of a botched theft) that just about took his existence. In Americana, Davies attempts to make experience of his lengthy love-hate courting with the rustic that either encouraged and pissed off him. From his quintessentially English standpoint as a Kink, Davies--with candor, humor, and wit--takes us on a truly own highway journey via his lifestyles and storied profession as a rock big name, and divulges what tune, popularity, and the US particularly suggest to him. essentially the most attention-grabbing characters in contemporary popular culture make appearances, from the recognized to the probably even-more-interesting behind-the-scenes avid gamers. The e-book additionally contains a photographic insert with photographs from Davies's personal assortment from the band's archive.
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Additional resources for Americana - The Kinks, The Road and The Perfect Riff
Bush heard that the Berlin Wall was coming down and that the Cold War was apparently over, he did not seem happy. Maybe he knew this would be the type of war America could not win. In 2001, his son reacted the same way when he was told about the terrorist attacks. The European Union was starting to erode what was left of the UK. Now the US was under attack. My youngest daughter was safe in Ireland, at least, but gradually I was losing contact with my own culture and becoming cut off from reality.
I had earned my chops as a London lad playing in my band, the Kinks, but then after a few hits I had become a transplant from the city to this refined country location, and for a while it had left my creativity blocked. I’d been separated from my band for some time and felt the need to record the obligatory “solo” album. I’d been working on a bunch of new songs for three years, digging up old ones to finish, and making lots of demos. Not playing them for anyone. Not happy with anything enough to make it public.
The telegenic, smiling face of Mr. Blair was everywhere. We, the British, were also about to become one of the most scrutinised CCTV nations on the planet; Big Brother had actually arrived, and it was only a matter of time before the world would become a TV reality show. On May 2, 1997, the day Tony Blair was elected and his “New” Labour swept to power, I was in New York. I watched his “coronation” on TV; he enraptured his adoring audience with a presidential, winning style. The reality was that years of Thatcherism had helped reduce a country’s morale to such an extent that it helped make this possible.