BSPH: The Kinks - I'm not Like Everybody Else

All right now! Time to write about something that is not so obscure as usual. How about the song that follows me throughout life as a manifesto of sorts?

 

"I'm Not Like Everybody Else" is a song written by the great Ray Davies and performed by seminal The Kinks. You know the story. It was first released as a B-side for a hit single "Sunny Afternoon" in 1966 and later proved to be a staple in the band repertoire due to its affectionate theme and singalong chorus. It is one of those unbreakable song you can't really do bad (check out how Chocolate Watchband does the chorus). While original version is perfectly serviceable i always preferred live version that was released in 1994/1996 album "To the Bone". Because this song is like wine - it got really better with age. I will get to that a bit later.

Basically "I'm Not Like Everybody Else" is Ray Davies' version of Sinatra's "My Way". It is about standing on you own and not giving up for casual commodities. But instead of somber sentimental tone we get ripping-roaring defiance - "middle finger treatment". It is an explication of sacramental "nope". This is a guts-song - it gets you deep - and you know it's true. I first heard it in 2005 when i was only starting to get myself together and it really helped me to get through uncaring and hostile environment. It played in my head every time i've stumbled upon some obstacles (which were plenty) and it was one of the things that keeped me from giving up. But down with sentiments.

Unlike the squeaky boom-boom original - "To The Bone" version got this mature disparate edge best described as "beaten but not defeated". It feels big but there is no abundance. The song moves on in an intimidating pace creating sense of menace. Drum beat is unhurried but relentless - it goes on no matter what, barely noticing anything around it. That's the song attitude. Because of that arrangement creates some kind of notion of unease.

Verses are more contemplative louring seesaw but then comes the chorus which shrugs it off and stomps it to the ground. It tears through the thick air. Davies' voice is worn and weary - its raspiness tells a story of its own - some kind of "its about how many hits you can get and still be on your feet". There is vast but unknowable background behind his words. Lots of emotion whirling in containment: some sadness, pain, vanity, gumption - but zero regret.

Guitar solo tells a parallel narrative - it provides you with an abstract backstory. Final rave-up is transcending - the song goes away. Many pointless battles behind and still no reason to prove anything to anybody - because you don't anything to anybody.