The Kinks are The Village Green Preservation Society, by Andy Miller

Most of the time, I really enjoy the 33 1/3 series of music books. These compact volumes each focus on a single album, and depending on the author, they can either stay tightly centered on the music or expand outward into the band, the era, and the cultural context. For me, they’re a bit hit-or-miss—but this one, Andy Miller’s book on The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society, is definitely a hit.

The album itself, largely ignored upon its release in 1968, is now widely regarded as one of the finest British albums ever recorded. Miller does an excellent job capturing the precarious circumstances surrounding its creation: a band on the verge of disintegration, led by Ray Davies at his most obsessive and exacting, stubbornly refusing to follow prevailing musical trends. On a personal note, I am constantly wavering back and forth as to which Kinks album is my favorite: Arthur or The VGPS. I usually end up admitting that Arthur, to my ears, is the winner. But after reading this book, I’m back on the fence. 

What sets this book apart is the depth of its research. Miller draws not only on Ray Davies’ perspective, but also incorporates the voices of the other band members, which adds richness and dimension to the story of the recording sessions. The detailed, track-by-track analysis reveals fascinating insights into how the songs evolved, what Davies thought of them, and even which ones might have been better suited for a solo project. I found it particularly interesting that Davies had initially sequenced a 12-track version of the album, complete with a release date (Sept 27, 1968), but at the very last minute, he had a change of heart.  He insisted that the album be postponed; he wanted to expand it to a double album (20 tracks). The record label (Pye) refused, but allowed him to re-sequence  a 15-track edition of the album as a single disc.  He agreed, and took the group back into the studio in October to record two new songs – Big Sky and Last of the Steam-Powered trains.  Details like this are catnip to us Kinks obsessives.

The scope extends beyond the album itself, with thoughtful discussion of B-sides, outtakes, and songs that were considered but ultimately left off the final release. At times, the level of detail can feel a bit overwhelming, but more often than not, it enhances the experience, especially for a crazed Kinks fan like myself, particularly when paired with a return to the music itself. Reading this book sent me back to the album, and songs like “Animal Farm” and “Big Sky” (my favorite on the album) felt newly enriched by Miller’s observations.

Miller’s literary references (William Blake, George Orwell) add another layer, especially in his exploration of the album’s pastoral themes and its subtle critique of nostalgia. His footnotes are often witty and occasionally sly, reflecting both deep knowledge and a clear affection for the material.

For fans of the Kinks (or anyone interested in how a truly fabulous, idiosyncratic album came to be) this book is well worth the read.