Sophisticated Lady. stereo mix, backing track only (3:21), recorded 22 Mar, 1973 at Morgan Studios, Willesden, London Ok. well I was expecting a song, but we essentially have a well developed backing track. This is essentially a slow to moderate blues rock boogie with some nice changes. It’s a shame that Ray didn’t record any vocals for whatever lyrics he may have had under the guise of Sophisticated Lady. Essentially, we get a nice groove and the guitars do some nice runs and work well together. I think the all the instruments work well together, and it seems to be a pretty tight arrangement, but as an instrumental, there isn’t all that much going on with it really.
A good backing track, but it is hard to see this containing much to say about it really, and if I'm wrong, my apologies.... So I'm going to take a punt and add The Great Lost Kinks album, so folks have something to sink their teeth into.... if it turns out I'm wrong and we need more time for these, I'll hold off posting tomorrow. The Great Lost Kinks Album Compilation album by the Kinks Released 25 January 1973[1] Recorded 1966–1970 Genre Rock Length 37:14 Label Reprise Producer Ray Davies; Shel Talmy on "I'm Not Like Everybody Else" J.M. does the liner notes again Liner Notes: The title of this album refers to the fact that in early 1969 Reprise was about to release a Kinks album that they knew as RS 6309 and that the public would know as Four More Respected Gentlemen. For reasons not known by your kronikler; that album was never released, and came to be known by the name we've given this one, although this one Is not RS 6309 (several selections of which were included on The Village Green Preservation Society, but rather a collection of never-released-in-America tracks from a whole buncha different places. It will thus be perceived that this is an attempt to simulate electronically a rather than the G. L. K. A. The consumer who consequently feels defrauded is urged to be grateful for this album regardless, to consider that not just any record company would go to the trouble of digging old tracks that never saw the light of day out of its vaults in an attempt to capitalize on the artist's prosperity under different auspices. When last The Kinks were thusly kronikled, it was proposed that a genius' hat would not rest awkwardly upon Ray(mond Douglas) Davies' head, and/or/but that as performers the group demand even its most ardent fans last vestiges of charity. As was noted in the earlier Kronikles, though, little could be more futile than attempting to predict Kinkly developments, and, as this is being written (on the eve of 1972's autumn). both of the above immodest proposals shriek out for reconsideration. By no exertion of the imagination are the present onstage Kinks above reproach. They persist in simply assassinating such of their earlier vintage splendors as "Waterloo Sunset" with John Dalton still, after three years as a Kink and several hundred performances of the song under his belt, daring to come no closer than a yard to his microphone during what on the recorded version was one of the most exquisite vocal harmonies in modern rock history. Their bringing a transvestite onstage to flop around obscenely during "Lola" may indeed be perceived as degrading to the audience as well as to the song. Who among us doesn't wish that Ray weren't so bitchy to brother Dave onstage, that he weren't so perversely fond of advising Dave to shaddup into his microphone and hence through perhaps 800 p.a. watts when Dave accompanies his elder sibling's between-song patter with a bit of guitar work? And Ray's acceleratingly queenly stage manner does tend to diminish, if not obviate. the emotional majesty of such songs as "Brainwashed." But in spite of all the above, who can deny that The Kinks have become just about the funnest live rock and roll show under the big sky? How on earth, for instance, can one not be delighted by an incarnation of The Kinks that can and does leap from its contemporary repertoire into irresistibly haphazard revivals of such charming old horrors as "Baby Face" at the flick of a Davies wrist? And however much it might reduce the effect of an occasional "Brainwashed' to that of such a charming old horror. How can one, in the end, fail to find Ray's tirelessly exuberant "camping' (as the English would have it) less than exhilarating? Wotta sight are the current Kinks! Groupies charlestoning frenziedly in the wings... An immensely motley horn section one of whom looks like three of Black Sabbath's identical twin, another of whom looks like he just wandered off the bandstand of The Lulu Show doubling up with laughter at the absurd Dixieland that's coming out of their horns... Pudgy John D. and D. Davies, much bewhiskered, cracking one another up with heavy English poses...The perpetually- ravaged-looking John Gosling balanced precariously at his keyboards in the center of a mountain of discarded beer cans. ...And this preposterous bow-tied bastard grandson of Oscar Wilde grinning the most lopsided grin anyone's ever seen while flouncing to and fro like a Ziegfreid choreographer's worst nightmare. But, as was noted in The Kink Kronikles, the role of underdogs has always been much cherished by them, and only a stranger could conceive of a Kinkdom in which nothing was amiss. What's clearly amiss with The Kinks since the dawn of the present decade. if you'll allow your kronikler his two new-pence' worth, is that Raymond D. Davies' songwriting brilliance as a songwriter has greatly dimmed. In many of the songs on 1971's Muswell Hillbillies Ray's treatment of the familiar theme of the old-fashioned, tradition- cherishing soul's inability to suffer the cruel modern world was largely clumsily heavy-handed and obvious, often self-consciously clever rather than satirically incisive. To many, including this kronikler, it seemed that much of that album represented an attempt on Ray's part to blunt the cutting edge of his satire in order to make it digestible to what he hoped would be a mass audience, that he was in fact patronizing a public that had been only marginally aware of The Kinks before "Lola." In the recent Evervbody's in Show Biz there's hardly a trace of my own favorite Davies, the immensely-social-conscienced champion of the forgotten ordinary people. Instead, it's a bitchily egocentric Davies who dominates the work, one whose primary interest is making clear to his listener the agony he must endure to stay on the road entertaining us. To which this kroniklers own response is: if it makes him so miserable that he can think of little but the insufferable cuisine of the motorway and how he`s compelled to consume maximum portions of same in order to retain sufficient strength to come onstage to perform for us, he certainly and we probably would be better off in the end if he'd retire from touring and get back to sensitizing us-with some of the most beautiful songs anyone`s ever written - to aspects of the world that few other writers even perceive. Yes, I, for one. would give up seeing what's become a sublimely enjoyable stageshow if it meant the rejuvenation of the Ray Davies who wrote "Waterloo Sunset" and "Get Back in Line" and "Shangri- La'' and "Days." When The Kinks are about to perform in my neck of the woods I indeed feel good from morning til the end of the day, but the songs on Arthur, for instance, have been making me feel an entire spectrum of emotions for over three years' worth of days. Better that he should be writing as he once did, say I. It's just occurred to me that I be better off not revealing to you that most of the selections on the present album were recorded (and probably composed) around the same time as ...Village Green Preservation Society, at which time you'd have stood a better chance of seeing an Onassis on a skateboard than the Kinks van on the dreaded motorway. So how's this kronikler gonna squirm out of the fact that several of the songs here are neither profound humanitanan statements nor nor monuments of satire, but rather only sheerest whimsy? As long as I've told you that. please be so kind as to allow me to tell you what I know and think about each track of this collection . . . Apparently so demanding are the charts they've been asked to play that the horns can be heard gasping for a second wind about three-quarters of the way through the music-hallish "Til Death Do Us Part" (whose relationship to the British TV show of the same name the inspiration for AIl in the Family, incidentally the kronikler is not certain about). I, for one. am most delighted by the exquisite lines. "l'm only me, not someone better/ Not someone good ..." "There Is No Life Without Love' should, by virtue of an almost identical arrangement, remind you of ViIIage Green's "Sitting by the Rlverside," and hails from the never-released Dave Davies "solo' album inspired by the immense British and European successes of "Death of a Clown" and kept tucked away in the vaults by virtue of the immense international lack of success of subsequent Dave solo singles. Possibly contrary to the expectations of recent konverts to the Kinks Kause, "Lavender Hill" reveals little, if anything, about Ray's sexual leanings, and instead simply finds him longing to in habit the world of his own fantasies. Dave's got fantasies, too, of course. One of which is revealed in decidedly snappy fashion in "Groovy Movies:' another native of his solo project. Rather in the fashion of Susannah's Still Alive: "Rosemary Rose" is the portrait of a lonely young woman who's finding it no pushover to latch onto a lover. She'd do well. it would seem. to solicit advice in the cosmetic uses of fog and haze from Maria and her daughters Cone of whom. I'II bet, is Wicked Arrabella), whose tale is told in "Misty Water." If she pulls it off she can look forward to the day when such paragons of glamor as R. Davies will find her so enchanting that they'll devote all their time to drawing pictures of their love in the sand. God help her. "When I Turn Off the Living Room Light:" composed for a British television drama (whose name the kronikler failed to catch, as usual), and, by the sound of it, recorded and mixed In no more than 10 minutes. finds Raymond Doug near the pinnacle of his form, making us us want to laugh and cry simultaneously. We feel like callous swine for giggling at the sorry plight of the two homely lovers described in the song, but how can we help but giggle when the person Ray's singing to is obviously the most unsightly mutant ever coughed up by homo sapiens? Kinks fans of Semitic lineage will perhaps not be inordinately delighted by the ditty's opening remarks. "The Way Love Use to Be" (one did it with what God - rather than a transplant surgeon - had given him or her to do it with) hails from the sound track of the film Percy, and features a vocal performance by Ray that makes clear that he'll never have to go hungry so long as movie scores demand romantic ballads. The present album's eldest track. "l'm Not Like Everybody Eise:" was originally the B-side of 1966's "Sunny Afternoon". Unlike Ken Emerson, this kronikler fails to detect anything other than the usual I'm-gonna-let-my-freak-flag-fly sentiments therein, but is nevertheless excited by Dave's impassioned voicing of said sentiments. "Plastic Man," too, began life as a B-side (to "King Kong"). Unlike such cousins as "Mr. Pleasant," this infectious toe-tapper implies no moral judgement. In fact, by being just unspeakably good-natured musically and pointing out lyrically that plastic folk aren't distressed even when people stomp on their toes and pull their noses all over the landscape. it hints that being plastic might be loads of fun. The kickoff track from the Dave album, "This Man He Weeps Tonight," features an an uncharacteristically tight instrumental arrangement evocative of the early Byrds, a dynamic vocal, and at least a couple of very strong lyrical images. You'll like it. "Mr. Songbird" finds Ray once again in a positively exuberant mood, cheerfully warbling perhaps the corniest lyrics ever conceived by a British songwriter. Jimmy Page did not play the recorder. "Where Did My Spring Go?:" composed for the same TV show as "Living Room Light," is probably the most chillingly cynical of all of Ray's songs. Here he sings the part of a man terrified to the point of cursing the time he spent being in love by the realization that physically he's no more what he once was. JOHN MENDELSOHN Los Angeles September, 1972 (c)1973 Warner Bros Records Inc. Printed in USA MS 2127 Side 1 1. Till Death Us Do Part mono mix (3:12), recorded Sep 1968 at probably Polydor Studios, London 2. There Is No Life Without Love mono mix (2:00), recorded probably Jan 1968 at Pye Studios (No. 2), London 3. Lavender Hill mono mix (2:53), recorded Aug 1967 at Pye Studios (No. 2), London 4. Groovy Movies stereo mix (2:31), recorded May-Jun 1969 at Pye Studios (No. 2), London 5. Rosemary Rose mono mix (1:43), recorded Jun 1967 at Pye Studios (No. 2), London 6. Misty Water stereo mix (3:03), recorded May, 1968 at Pye Studios (No. 2), London 7. Mr. Songbird stereo mix (2:23), recorded probably Nov-Dec 1967 at Pye Studios (No. 2), London Side 2 1. When I Turn Off The Living Room Light mono mix (2:17), recorded 4 Feb, 1969 at BBC's Riverside Sound Studios, Hammersmith, London 2. The Way Love Used To Be stereo mix (2:11), recorded 11 Oct 1970 at Morgan Studios (2), Willesden, London 3. I'm Not Like Everybody Else mono mix (3:29), recorded probably Jan 1966 at Pye Studios (No. 2), London 4. Plastic Man mono mix (3:00), recorded Mar 1969 at Pye Studios (No. 2), London 5. This Man He Weeps Tonight stereo mix (2:40), recorded Jan 1969 at Pye Studios (No. 2), London 6. Pictures In The Sand mono mix (2:45), recorded May 1968 at Pye Studios (No. 2), London 7. Where Did My Spring Go? mono mix (2:10), recorded 28 Jan, 1969 at BBC's Riverside Sound Studios, Hammersmith, London All songs have been made officially available on CD. ^ Jump up to:a b 2014 The Anthology 1964–1971 box set ^ Jump up to:a b 1998 Essential Something Else reissue CD ^ Jump up to:a b c d e f 2004 Sanctuary The Village Green Preservation Society 3-CD deluxe edition ^ 2001 Sanctuary BBC Sessions 1964–1977 CD ^ 1998 Essential Percy reissue CD ^ Jump up to:a b 1998 Essential Arthur reissue CD The Great Lost Kinks Album is a 1973 LP of mostly unreleased material issued by Reprise Records after the Kinks had moved to RCA. The tracks were recorded between 1966 and 1970 and master tapes were shipped to the US Reprise Label in the early 1970s to fulfil contractual obligations with that label. Kinks leader and songwriter, Ray Davies, intended most of the songs to remain unreleased "collateral" tracks for Reprise. Several other songs from these "collateral" recordings had been released on the 1972 Reprise compilation The Kink Kronikles. Davies and the Kinks management first learned of the album's existence from the US Billboard record chart. Davies instituted legal action against Reprise, which resulted in Reprise discontinuing the album in 1975. It became an immediate collector's item as most of the songs remained officially unreleased until the 1998 reissue of Kinks albums with bonus tracks. All of the tracks received legitimate release as bonus tracks on these UK Sanctuary reissue CDs: the 2001 BBC Sessions 1964–1977, the 2004 three-CD deluxe edition of Village Green, and 2014's The Anthology 1964–1971. The name is a reference to an album that was set to be released by Reprise in 1969 but was held back, eventually morphing into The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society.[4] The songs include a number of unused album tracks, a British single ("Plastic Man"), a B-side ("I'm Not Like Everybody Else"), a film theme ("Till Death Do Us Part"), songs written exclusively for British television ("Where Did the Spring Go?", "When I Turn Off the Living Room Light"). The Great Lost Kinks Album also included several Dave Davies recordings intended for his ill-fated solo album ("Groovy Movies", "There Is No Life Without Love", "This Man He Weeps Tonight"). The liner notes for the album were written by John Mendelsohn.[1] -----------------------------------------------------------------------------Info - Wikipedia and kindakinks.net---------------------------------------------------------------------------- So this was a US release only via Reprise, and it is an interesting hotch potch of tracks that hadn't really found a home. I would imagine in 1973 this would be an album for Kinks fans to get a little excited about. We have a lot of great tracks that never made it onto the albums. For those of us that came later on, and with the advent of extended releases and anniversary releases I suppose it is slightly redundant in some ways, but in 1973, I imagine this made a big impact on Kinks fans, with a whole album of unreleased stuff, and unreleased stuff that was high quality.... The funny thing now, to me at least, is we have had so many great unreleased tracks up to this point in the thread, that didn't even make it onto here, that it feels like this could have almost bee a triple album. Anyway, this is a release I don't really have much to say about, I can appreciate it, but it has no impact on me, as I have these songs in other places..... but it does make a nice compact collection. Cheers Mark
(Not so) Sophisticated Lady : OK, this agreeable instrumental will morph into Money Talks (off Preservation Act2) but let’s not be too picky, we should still accept it on my ever-growing playlist of “backing tracks of unreleased Kinks songs” with the likes of Little Women, Easy Come, There You Went, Egg Stained Pyjamas, Spotty Grotty Anna or Queenie. It certainly won’t be my number one Kinks listen, but it reassures me to have all those tracks tidily stored together, in case I’d need them. You never know with us pop maniacs, this type of urge can happen at any given moment, can't they ?
I remember when the tracklisting for the Legacy edition was first released there was some speculation on this forum that this was gonna be a Duke Ellington cover, but it seems not! Hard to imagine a Kinks version of this really, but it might have been a tad more interesting that this bluesy jam that was the blueprint for Money Talks. Or maybe not! I guess all I can say about todays track is that it's an interesting insight into how a group-created jam could later be turned into a full blown song by Ray, and how much he often still depended on the musicality and group sound of his bandmates, despite them increasingly being cast as underlings carrying out the R.Davies vision to the letter.
With my Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons killjoy hat on again here I'm afraid my OCD compels me to add a correction to this: despite the similar title this a different album, it's a bootleg from 2000 which contained a different collection of rarities that wren't on the 1973 release (nearly all of which have since been made available on official releases).
The Great Lost Kinks album was an object of massive covetousness for me from the moment as a nascent young Kinks fan I became aware of it's existence in 1996 (scanning through the Kinks entry in a Rock Encylopedia in the library that mentioned it's existence and that it contained many otherwise otherwise unavailable tracks in passing ) until the time in 1998, when after poring over listings in Goldmine, I finally managed to get my parents to order me the Dutch Import CD with the extra Dave tracks (the inner sleeve of which with the photo of Dave in dandy mode Mark posted above). Honestly one of the happiest days of my music loving life the day that dusty piece of counterfeit plastic arrived at our home. The most succinct way I can describe it is: imagine as a Beatles fan you suddenly found out they had recorded one entire extra album between Magical Mystery Tour and The White Album, that was every bit as comparable to either quality wise: it was that good. I'm glad this stuff is much more easily available now, but split up over the various reissues that concentrated impact of this stuff all assembled together in one eccentric package in one hit isn't there in the same way. In 2006 I was lucky enough to get the vinyl for a tenner in Oxfam music, never seen it in the wild before or since.
As we've mentioned many times before on this thread and I'm sure will again, The Kinks have a poor record on album sleeves, esp compared with the company they keep as a frontline British Invasion act: and not only were the covers generally poor in comparison to the Beatles/Stones/Who, but they never once got a name artist to do a cover like those acts did and in so create a bona fide original piece of pop art: The Beatles had Peter Blake and Richard Hamilton, The Stones got Warhol and Guy Peellaert, and The Who used Alan Aldridge. Unless.. is The Great Lost Kinks album the exception? The cover is by the noted Belgian surrealist artist and illustrator Jean-Michel Folon (1934 - 2005) and I've never been able to find out if it's an original commissioned for the album or something off the peg he had that they used. Either way, it's the closest a Kinks album cover ever came to the world of fine art, which is kinda noteworthy: Obituary: Jean-Michel Folon Jean-Michel Folon - Wikipedia
Not much to say about Sophisticated Lady (it's OK for what it is) or TGLKA (great track list, and I'm glad that it's all now readily available).
It shows a group of figures who appear to be 'Lost' I guess, that's about the extent of the literal connection. It's that aspect that makes me suspect it was an original commission (as in Reprise got Jean Michel Folon to do the cover and his followed his muse and interpreted the brief and title obliquely like a true artiste) rather than a piece he'd already done that they asked to use. If the latter you'd think they'd have gone with a less obscure looking image!
I can imagine Ray being annoyed with the sleevenotes, if he ever read them! As for 'pudgy' John Dalton!
I had a listen to "Sophisticated Lady" last night, and found that it was just a backing track, and as such it's OK, but not something I'd listen to in isolation (I suspect "Money Talks" itself is something I would only listen to within the context of Prez II). Never encountered GLKA - I would imagine it would have been a beyond-wildest-dreams item of treasure for those there at the time, though.
Mendelssohn Liner Notes: I was mightily impressed with his liner notes the first time around but, and I don’t think it’s due to being pissed off at Mendelssohn’s far-fetched and blistering opinion of ‘Celluloid Heroes’, I’m not at all impressed this time around. In fact, it was a tough read just in terms of figuring out what he was saying.
like another poster recently mentioned , i don't recall actually listening to this song and i did buy the expended showbiz on release. i have to listen to the entire second disc in it'e entirety in penance. whoa is me ;-).
I found a copy of the GLKA at a flea market in the late 70’s for $5.00. Unfortunately after lending it to a friend I put it in my car and forgot to bring it in and after a couple of hours I went out to get it only to find it warped from the heat. Naturally I was crossed. I later found a bootleg cd of GLKA and Dave’s unreleased solo album so small consolation that didn’t make up for dumb mistake. Also regarding History, I wonder if Tom Petty somehow heard this because his I Won’t Back Down has a very similar chord progression?
Sorry didn't mean to make it unreadable but i recall the gist was that the reviewer thought the Kinks show was great but that the filming style unpleasant to watch as it jumped all over the place. Apologies as I packed it away earlier in a trunk.
"Sophisticated Lady": So far, Papa, I've got nothing to say As for The Great Lost Kinks Album, it was among the first batch of records that I purchased at the Record Exchange in the winter of 1977-78 for the sum of $2.99. I also remember seeing copies at the bargain bin of my local Ann & Hope for $1.99. Much later on, I picked up that bootleg CD that Avid Ajsmith mentioned at a local record fair. As we went through the contents already, I have to say that it was an excellent album by itself. Both Kronikles & TGLKA were treats to US Kinks fans by Reprise & it's too bad Kinks fans from the rest of the world weren't included.
Please allow me to indulge in my little Great Lost Kinks Album story. Like @ajsmith, I spent many months/years fantasizing about it. It was legendary with its enigmatic Folon cover and its many Village Green era outtakes, most of which were (rightfully) praised in so many books or articles I’d read. It was the Kinks, a full "album” of them, supposedly “great”, and definitely “lost”. Four reasons I badly needed to hear it. And one day, I think it must’ve been 1991, there it was, on the wall of an excellent Parisian vinyl store called Monster Melodies. The guy had a long black ponytail, was not too friendly at first (you know the type : you had to prove yourself before he’d judge you were a worthy customer) and I was not one of his “regulars” yet. Anyway, the lost treasure was there, on the wall. With a price tag of 400 francs (around 80 dollars). Waaaaaaaayyyyy out of my range. I was twenty years old and buying records for 30 francs most of the time… But I was desperate to hear the music, so I asked him if he’d consider making me a copy on cassette, for a fair price. The guy laughed “well, making a cassette, it’s a lot of work, you see ? A real hassle: I'd have to put on the record, turn it over, maybe also turn the cassette if it doesn't fit on one side etc. Why would I do that ? So no thanks, young man, won’t do it”. Now, I was really frustrated. The record was there, I could touch it, I did touch it, and looked at all those enigmatic song titles. I insisted a bit but the guy would not budge. “Not interested”. I was young but I already knew that some human impulses are impossible to beat. I figured a guy like that was used to dealing with cash, fast and swift, in flea markets or conventions etc., and I could see how for him, the prospect of a little bit of extra money was one thing, but the sight of extra money had to be something else entirely. So here’s what I did: I bought a cassette, went to the ATM machine, withdrew a 50 francs bill (the very best I could do then) and went back to the store two hours later. I held the cassette in one hand, the money in the other and said “hi, it’s me again, would you care to reconsider ?”. He looked at me, clearly pissed off, and I could see he just could not resist (10 dollars !!). He just couldn't, and so he grabbed the bill in an impatient gesture, grumbling and swearing (“ah, **** it! What they’ll make me do, these ****ing people”). Victory! The day after, I came back to fetch the cassette and it became one of my most cherished items. I listened to that thing endlessly. In the following years, I got the german Neue Revue CD (I seem to remember it doesn’t have Pictures in the Sand with vocals?), then a lot of different bootlegs, the album reissues, box sets etc. I must have each song at least 12 times. But two years ago, I ordered the old 1973 vinyl on Discogs, which has lost most of its value now that all the songs are so easy to find. I think I paid 8 bucks for it! I can tell you I was over the moon when I put it on my record player. A sweet, sweet moment of revenge… But did I get rid of the cassette along the way ? Oh no, I haven't, and I never will. To this day, it's my precious little treasure, and a reminder of that lost time when hearing the music and discovering it was the one thing that truly mattered, just because sometimes, it was so hard to get.
Side note: I have inadvertently converted auto spell to Kinkdom. I was typing ‘money’ and ‘Moneygoround’ popped up as an option. Just did now, too!
