
Danny Horn’s Ray Davies, left, Oliver Hoare’s Dave Davies, Zakarie Stokes’s Mick Avory and Harry Curley’s Pete Quaife in Sunny Afternoon. Picture: Manuel Harlan
IT may be dreich and dreary outside, but the weather forecast predicts a Sunny Afternoon all week at the Grand Opera House, York.
Welcome back the four-time Olivier Award-winning musical tale of the rise and fall-outs of Muswell Hill firebrands The Kinks, last sparking fireworks here in February 2017, and still as thrilling, visceral, anarchic, smart and smarting as it was when premiered in 2014 by Ray Davies (original story and songs, 29 of them, from the chief Kink’s katalogue) and Joe Penhall (book) before transferring to the West End.
Returning to the York theatre where Davies last played on May 3 2007, his story of sibling rivalry with younger brother “Rave Dave” (lead guitarist, fashion hound) is the fractious London forerunner to the Gallagher brothers’ Manchester ructions. Northern softies by comparison.
Clashing not only with each other but with authority and management too, The Kinks hold their place in pop history as the first British band to be banned from the United States. No wonder Penhall says “they were punk before punk”.
Sunny Afternoon is not a jukebox musical, more a raucously rude reawakening of Davies’s satirical commentaries on English customs, class wars, fashions and fashion, love and loss. The hits are delivered as much by fists – and a cymbal in the case of drummer Mick Avory (Zakarie Stokes) hospitalising Dave Davies (Oliver Hoare) with blows to the head in All Day And All Of The Night at a Cardiff gig – as they are by Ray’s golden pen.
Told with all the electric charge of Dave’s guitar riff for You Really Got Me, this turbulent tale is an eye opener for those familiar with the songs but not the blistered, bruising history from 1963 to 1967’s Waterloo Sunset and onwards to 1969’s American return, peppered with all its riotous controversies, physical and mental exhaustion and love’s headiness and headaches.

The Kinks’ Ray Davies standing in front of a billboard for Sunny Afternoon, on tour this week at the Grand Opera House, York
Equipped with Ray Davies’s inside track on all things Kinks, Penhall’s book is at once witty and scabrous, rebellious and moving (to the point of tears in Dress Circle, Row C, Seat 26), as he charts The Kinks’ rise from rowdy backing band to cavalier working-class lads caught in a maelstrom of mendacious, manipulative management deals and recording contracts, American red tape, band fall-outs and brotherly spats.
We learn, for example, of Ray’s childhood stutter that returns in moments of stress; his refusal to have his gap teeth fixed; his marriage to an expelled Bradford convent girl Rasa (Lisa Wright, as in 2017); his breakdown after the exploitative American tour; how he misses sister Rene, who died when dancing on the day she gave him his first guitar on his 13th birthday.
You will love how songs both feed off or into the storyline, whether in the moment when a homesick Ray (Danny Horn, himself of Muswell Hill stock) craves comforting words down the phone from Rasa, eliciting her rendition of I Go To Sleep (his devastating ballad resurrected by The Pretenders in 1980), or when his breakdown is encapsulated in Too Much On My Mind, made all the more impactful by segueing into Rasa’s frustrated response, Tired Of Waiting.
Likewise, a tired and emotional Dave’s rowdy rendition of I’m Not Like Everybody Else defines Hoare’s Molotov cocktail performance.
The blow-by-blow re-enactment of the creation of two Kinks landmarks book-ends the show, firstly the raucous 1964 number one You Really Got Me, giving equal credit to Dave and Ray for sticking sharp objects into the speaker cone to make that wall-shuddering, ear-shattering guitar squall
Later, and climactically, amid so much turmoil, beauty beyond compare emerges piece by piece in Waterloo Sunset, a song famously denied top spot by The Beatles’ All You Need Is Love, but here making you wish you were Terry and Julie meeting at Waterloo station every Friday night.

Joe Penhall: “His bookfor Sunny Afternoon is at once witty and scabrous, rebellious and moving”
Elsewhere, framing 1966 chart topper Sunny Afternoon in the glow of England’s World Cup victory that July makes for a right old London knees-up, while the barbershop quintet reinvention of Days is breathtaking.
Reuniting with Hoare from Sunny Afternoon stints in London in 2015 and Chicago earlier this year, Horn’s Ray leads the show with fire and rage, mischievous wit but the burden of grief too, and their partnership is equally strong in song and sibling flare-ups.
Hoare spells trouble with a capital T as dangerous dandy Dave; Stokes’s volcanic drummer Avory erupts in a remarkable drum solo and Harry Curley’s reserved bassist Pete Quaife is eventually crushed under the weight of the Cain and Abel toxicity.
There is no room for Autumn Almanac, alas, but the likes of Stop Your Sobbing, This Is Where I Belong, The Moneygoround and A Rock’n’Roll Fantasy take Sunny Afternoon beyond the Kinks klassics to the storyline’s benefit.
Miriam Buether’s set and costumes evoke the era in every detail; Adam Cooper’s choreography is almost combustible and Matt McKenzie’s sound design enhances the Kinks’ progression from incendiary, foundation-shaking early numbers to the broader canvas that followed.
Horn and Hoare never let up, their raw energy propelling director Edward Hall’s exhilarating slice of Sixties’ London life to new heights in its potent yet poetic portrait of sunny afternoons and dark days.
Sonia Friedman Productions and ATG Productions present Sunny Afternoon, Grand Opera House, York, tonight, 7.30pm; tomorrow and Saturday, 2.30pm and 7.30pm. Box office: 0844 871 3024 or atgtickets.com/york. Age guidance: 12 plus.

















































