Ray Davies, lead singer and songwriter for the British invasion’s Rock and Roll Hall of Fame band the Kinks, was a New Yorker from the late ’70s to the mid-’80s, when he called the Upper West Side his home.
He spent some time in Hollywood, where he came up with “Celluloid Heroes.” He even tried New Orleans for a spell — and wound up nearly dead, shot in a robbery.
Now 68, and living in London just two miles from where he grew up, Davies looks back at his time in the States in his memoir “Americana: The Kinks, the Riff, the Road, the Story” (Sterling), out today.
In a transatlantic phone call, he tells The Post about the Kinks’ early days, the roots of the legendary battles between him and his bandmate brother Dave, what he loves about New York — and how that 2004 shooting still shakes him up.
How did the name the Kinks come about?
In the early days we were looking for a name, and we were in a bar. And my brother was dressed in leather clothes — leather cap, kinky boots — trying to get an identity for ourselves. This drunk called us the Kinks and fell off his bar stool.
How’s your health these days?
Pretty good. I work out two or three times a week. I’ve always been fairly active. I used to play football — English football. I was on trial with a team called Arsenal, but had a bad back injury, so I couldn’t pursue it.
The chapters on the New Orleans shooting were astonishing, really riveting. Was it difficult to write about?
It was difficult, once I’d written it, to read it through. It did have an impact on me when I read it back. Traumatic.
Did they ever catch the gunman?
Nearly. I think it was a known criminal and he escaped to another state, and they gave up.
So, as far as you know, he’s still at large?
Yeah. Hopefully, he’s a reformed character now.
It was fun reading about your life on the Upper West Side. What did you like about living in New York?
Obviously, it’s a gregarious place. People speak to you. The thing that amazes me, is it’s like a village, the way people communicate there. I know it’s this big, sprawling metropolis. You know, you get in a cab and you say, “How’s that new show that opened?” Everyone knows what’s going on in the city. And word spreads very quickly in the city.
Did you have a favorite pub that you would frequent when you lived on the West Side?
There’s one old-man’s bar I go into. It was called Malachy’s, at Columbus and 72nd. You get treated evenly and fairly whenever you go in. It’s a blue collar pub. Something about America, and New York in particular, you get lots of people from a TV network that’s close by, ABC, and you get workers as well. It’s a nice mixture of people.
Was there a bad or difficult part of living in New York?
Not really. And that was an interesting time on the West Side because you still had mom and pop stores on Columbus Avenue and Broadway.
You write that the Kinks were banned in America from 1965 to 1969. What happened?
I don’t know the absolute reason. There were lots of things. There’s a saying in the book from my drummer at the time. He said: “It’s a mixture of bad management, bad luck and bad behavior.”
Were there any other rock ’n’ rollers in the other bands back in the day that you became good mates with and are friendly with today?
Well, obviously, The Who were contemporaries, and I spoke to Pete [Townshend] last year about a few things. I never really mixed much with bands. A big supporter of the Kinks at the time was Jimi Hendrix. Jimi always tipped a hat. [He’d say] ‘Remember the Kinks, who invented that sound.
What was Hendrix like?
He was a gentle guy. I only really knew him in the UK, because he was residing in the UK. Last time I saw him, he had “Purple Haze” out, and we chatted. He had really gentle mannerisms. I liked him a lot.
How are you and your younger brother Dave getting along now? Is it a cold war, a cold peace? And what’s behind your legendary battles?
Yeah. I think a lot of it stems from that I didn’t live at home when I was quite young. I lived with my sister. So I had a rather unconventional brother relationship with Dave. Dave and I had a meal together, Indian food, three weeks ago. It went well.
Did you guys talk about putting the band back together for a tour or an album?
I just said: I hope you’re writing some good songs, and maybe I’ll listen to some next time I see you.
So you had a good time, it was friendly?
It was, yeah, like Putin and Obama would get together and have a friendly chat.
Who paid?
I always buy dinner.
Let’s talk about a couple of songs. What’s behind “Lola”?
“Lola” is based on an incident in a French club, where a member of our entourage — my manager — was out dancing with this really beautiful woman. And he was taking her back to her hotel. She kissed him and he felt the stubble on the chin, a giveaway.
In the book, you write that you had a similar encounter. Is that true?
Ummm. Yeah, when we had “Lola” out, we had lots of drag queens come to the show, and so you never can tell.
“Celluloid Heroes.” What made you write about Hollywood?
Well, I stayed in an apartment on Hollywood Boulevard for a couple of months. And it was fascinating to see the people going for success. And Hollywood Boulevard itself, the stars on the street, you can actually walk over the stars.
Would you want to do an update of that story with some additional actors and actresses who’ve come along since?
I did one for fun at one concert — I think it was in America — with names like George Clooney and Gwyneth Paltrow.
How was the reception for that?
Interesting.