Alas, I wasn’t alive in 1967, but The Kinks’ classic Waterloo Sunset is so perfectly evocative of the time that bore it that by listening, I almost begin to believe that I was. Surely the zenith of Ray Davies’ nostalgia trip of narrative storytelling, for the first time The Kinks managed to blend commercial success and acclaim with intensely personal song-writing. The result is spellbinding, with leisurely guitar and backing vocals behind simple but tender lyrics of beautiful insouciance, echoing the lulling rocking and rolling of Davies’ muse - the Thames. The touchingly mundane story of two lovers meeting at a London Station is transformed into a song of unparalleled grace.
Waterloo Sunset, like so many of The Kinks’ songs has the power to evoke the idealistic perfection of all that is good in the world, and is impossible to listen to without being transported to a halcyon world free from care; assuaged by its tranquillity.
As opening lyrics go, few can rival the delicate perfection here – “Dirty old river/ must you keep rolling/ flowing into the night” is at once timeless and immediate; you are standing on the river’s shore, engulfed by its intoxicating serenity and simultaneously far away, pining for a return to such sensory equanimity. Almost Keats-esque in its languorous sensuality the song winds on, voluptuous and dreamy, with a refined economy of words - it is enough to know that “Waterloo Sunset’s fine.”
Simple storytelling permeates the verses with the comfortingly routine tale of Terry and Julie meeting every Friday and crossing the river together in serene harmony as the river and the song roll on in waves of endless indolence. Song-writing and poetic poise, elegant and charming, is here in spades as we are drawn in to their happy little world. Torpid and lethargic it might be, but its simple beauty is gorgeous and unrivalled.
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