POP MUSIC REVIEW : Davies and Kinks Offer Spirited Lesson in Survival

Ray Davies is often portrayed as one of rock’s prime neurotics, but at the House of Blues on Tuesday the leader of the Kinks was all smiles. “This is a very emotional return for us,” he said at one point, referring to the British Invasion veterans’ long absence from shows here.

Davies’ spirits were bubbling in something of a void for the band, a Hall of Fame member without a record deal and with no recent or new material worth playing. But they sold out their three nights at the 1,000-capacity club, matching the numbers they used to draw in their annual visits to the Santa Monica Civic.

There’s a lot of loyalty on both sides of the stage in this relationship, and the Kinks’ performance was anything but a rote recital of predictable favorites. If anyone had forgotten what a captivating performer he is, Davies was sharp, energetic, playful and in fine voice.

And then there are his songs. For three decades, Davies, 51, has written about a society stiffened into immobility and drained of spirit by bureaucracy and tradition. Ever skeptical, he’s not inclined to put his faith in alternative institutions either, but in rock ‘n’ roll he finds something that can break the forces of confinement. That’s why the Kinks’ rock has such urgency, and why its defiance is never feigned. It’s more than a job or even a musical passion. It’s a means of survival, a life-support system.

The alternative to fighting it out is to escape, and when Davies softens the tone and indulges in nostalgia, he does so with unparalleled resonance and dimension. The fantasy worlds of Broadway and Hollywood also fuel his imagination and provide refuge, and a rollicking vaudeville spirit was grafted into the band’s rock attack Tuesday, with brother Dave Davies’ lead guitar adding some grit and grease to the solid backing of the steady, pro rhythm section.

Fronting the music, Ray Davies was less campy, teasing and sarcastic than in his ‘70s incarnation. He was irreverent enough, but also more genuine as he appeared sincerely energized by performing and touched by the response.

Davies’ charisma and the spirited playing tended to mask the show’s major shortcoming. Even if minor items like “Low Budget” came off as fine fun, why play them and leave “Waterloo Sunset” in storage?

It’s boggling just to consider the periods and styles untapped or barely touched on by this show--from the eerie “Tired of Waiting for You” second wave of mid-’60s hits to 1969’s “Arthur,” the compassionate, satire-laced study of the individual crushed by his society.

It’s hard to imagine Davies being less astute than his fans at judging the relative merits of his songs. Was he trying to avoid the retrospective feel, or maybe the lack of contrast, that wall-to-wall masterpieces might create?

Whatever the reason, it suggests that he still hasn’t come to terms with the stature of his legacy. It would have made more sense, for instance, to end the evening with the second encore’s understated rendition of “Days,” an emotional valediction whose remarkable blend of loss, resignation and joy some regard as Davies’ greatest moment. That delicate mood was crushed by the final selection, yet another of the primal-riff early hits.

But when a man needs to rock to survive, who’s to argue?

* The Kinks play tonight at the House of Blues, 8430 Sunset Blvd., 9 p.m. Sold out. (213) 650-1451.