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The Persistence of Lies

Dr. Schreiber of San Augustine giving a typhoid innoculation at a rural school, San Augustine County, Texas. April, 1943. Photo by John Vachon.

By Mike Kuczkowski

I live in Marin County, Calif., just north of San Francisco via the Golden Gate Bridge. It is one of the most strikingly beautiful places I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot of beautiful places. With a median income of $94,347, Marin ranks 13th in the nation in per capita household income[i]. Most people—actually 54.6 percent of those over 25—are college graduates. In short, it’s an affluent and well-educated place.

Yet, Marin is also an epicenter of the anti-vaccination movement. More than six percent of the incoming kindergartners in our public schools have a “personal belief exemption,” which means they don’t have to be immunized against diseases like measles, mumps and whooping cough. (At one local school, the rate is 61 percent.) That’s the highest rate in the Bay Area, one of the highest in the state. By contrast, the entire state of Mississippi, which has a much more stringent policy around medical exemptions, allowed just 17 of the state’s 45,000 kindergartners to not be vaccinated.

With more than 100 confirmed cases of measles, a disease we had nearly eradicated 15 years ago, there’s now a great debate about why we allow people to opt out of immunizations. In Marin, the father of a 6-year-old boy with leukemia and a suppressed immune system due to his treatments, has made national news by asking public health officials to bar unvaccinated kids from his son’s school. It’s the only way, he says, to protect him son from a potentially deadly infection.

The issue of personal belief exemptions, vaccination science and perceived links to autism, which persist despite a complete lack of scientific basis, illustrate just how persistent myths can become, and how hard it can be to change minds. For marketing and communications professionals, it serves as a reminder of how vital it is to continually reinforce even the most straightforward messages and infuse them with humanity and relevance.

First, let’s examine the science. In 1998, the British Journal The Lancet published a groundbreaking study by a British doctor and researcher named Andrew Wakefield, who claimed he had found a link between the measles, mumps, rubella (M.M.R.) vaccine and the onset of autism. Wakefield’s research, which took an in-depth look at 12 autistic children, prompted a sharp decline in the vaccination rate in the United Kingdom and the United States. For many parents of autistic children, the study offered an explanation for a painful and as-yet unexplained phenomenon.

The problem was, the paper wasn’t true. Other researchers who tried to duplicate Wakefield’s results – a key tenet of the scientific method – were unsuccessful. New claims emerged that Wakefield had an undisclosed financial conflict of interest. Eventually, his co-authors backed away from the article’s claims. Since Wakefield’s initial publication, more than a dozen studies including millions of children showed no link between autism and the M.M.R vaccine. In 2010, The Lancet took the rare step of retracting Wakefield’s article. Two years later, British medical authorities stripped him of his license.

That’s as emphatic a “correction” as one will ever see in a peer-reviewed journal, yet many people still don’t know that that study has been thoroughly discredited.

There is another strand of thought that ties autism to a preservative called thimerosal, which has a form of mercury in it that has been suspected of having a role in autism. No connection has ever been proved, and thimerosal is no longer used in most vaccines (an exception being the flu vaccine).

In sum, there is no credible scientific argument against vaccinations. The evidence in support of vaccinations is robust. The lone article that suggested a link has been retracted. End of story.

Yet, it’s not. The genie is out of the bottle. In 2008, nearly one in four Americans said that because vaccinations may cause autism, it would be safer not to have children vaccinated at all. Nineteen percent more said they were not sure. A recent poll by the Pew Research Center showed that 30 percent of Americans say parents should be able to decide not to vaccinate their children.

This issue of choice is a very slippery one. A key precept of mass immunization is that if most members of a community are immunized, outbreaks of a disease are more likely to be contained. By allowing people to opt out of vaccines, the risk that more people will get sick goes up significantly. As policy decisions go, choice sounds appealing, but it also carries risks.

How can there be a clear scientific consensus that vaccines are not harmful, and yet 43 percent of Americans say they either believe vaccines cause autism, or are unsure? I’d suggest there are at least three major factors at play.

First, autism is a scourge, and we don’t know what causes it. It is probably one of the most emotional and fear-laden issues a parent faces – am I potentially exposing my child to harm? The early symptoms of autism tend to emerge at around the same time as children are being vaccinated. Parents may perceive a connection, even if it is merely a coincidence, and they become believers. In the absence of an answer, lots of lay hypotheses take hold. Yet this is precisely why we need science. As recently as the 19th century, people believed that diseases such as cholera were spread through miasma, or bad air, which explained why epidemics centered on poor areas with unhygienic conditions. Germ theory gave us a better explanation. (See Steven Johnson’s The Ghost Map for a riveting account of this transition.)

Second, many people today distrust the government. And while most Americans acknowledge that science has made the world better, they still distrust scientists on key issues, like climate change, pesticides, and even the theory of evolution. As a result, when the American Academy of Pediatrics and the Institutes of Medicine dismiss studies, it’s like white noise.

Third, and perhaps most concerning, people don’t understand science and scientific language in particular. It would seem, from a distance, that science is all about proving things. Electricity lights bulbs. Heart attacks cause death. But in reality, most scientific inquiry is very cautious in its assertions, and very incremental in assembling a body of knowledge. When researchers appropriately list limitations or caveats on their findings, it can seem like they doubt their conclusions. Yet that’s not really what’s going on. If you look at the Institute of Medicine’s most recent study on the adverse effects of vaccines, there is some risk that your eyes will glaze over. (“(E)vidence favors rejection of five vaccine-adverse event relationships, including MMR vaccine and autism…”)

What should we do about all of this?

The first thing leaders and communicators need to do is have the courage to engage unfriendly audiences. We should hear the opponents of vaccines out, but we should also continue to talk about the science.

The second thing we need to do is stick to a singular message and deliver it everywhere. Communications research shows that people need to hear a message 5-7 times before they believe it, and more often if they don’t trust the messenger. That means there should be a significant, sustained campaign to reinforce the benefits and address concerns about vaccines.

But we have tools to do that. We can use social media to respond to people who continue to tout bad science as a basis for anti-vaccine arguments. If we work at it – and use clear, accessible language – we can increase awareness that there is no scientific basis for many of the anti-vaccine movement’s claims.

The third thing we can do – and I think this would be a huge opportunity for the pharmaceutical industry – is trot out real scientists to communicate in clear language their expert perspective on these issues. Utterly unqualified people are standing up and speaking out in favor of a vaccine-autism link, with no credible evidence behind them. Where are the bench scientists, the safety and risk management analysts, the medical leaders of pharmaceutical companies who have a stake in helping the public understand that these vaccines are safe. (Note I did not say, where are pharma’s CEO’s; the reputation of the industry is such that the business leaders are not trusted. Scientific expertise, however, is still valued.)

We can change policies, mirroring more of what Mississippi has done and less of what California has done, to make exemptions harder to obtain. But I think the starting point is a clear, loud, science-based communications effort to help people understand the facts – and the very real risks – about this issue.

[i] Based on data obtained from the US Census Small Area Income and Poverty Estimates, 2013, here.

Deflategate Lessons for Crisis Managers

By Mike Kuczkowski

The two weeks between the AFC/NFC Championship games and the Super Bowl is usually devoted to celebrating the success of the two teams who have made it to the Big Game, examining their strengths and weaknesses, pulling together Super Bowl party menus and generating some excitement about one of the few remaining mass cultural events in America.

We’ve spent the past two weeks talking about, ahem, New England’s balls.

Unless you’ve been hiding under a rock, you know the core allegation: The New England Patriots used footballs that were not inflated to league specifications during their AFC Championship game against the Indianapolis Colts on January 18.

According to reports, 11 of 12 of the balls were below the lower limit of the range of approved PSI (12.5 PSI). Referees apparently checked the footballs 2.5 hours before game time, and they met the regulatory standard. At half time of the game, they did not. Why? We don’t know. But the idea, at least the assumption, is that the New England Patriots gained some tactical advantage in their 45-7 drubbing of the Colts by using underinflated footballs.

Is this a big deal? No. And yes. It is true that the discussion itself sounds trivial – and in many respects it is. But the NFL, as we’ve noted previously, is a serious business. It’s a major part of American culture. With an anticipated 113 million viewers Sunday, it is one of the few mass events in an increasingly fragmented culture. Lots of advertising and sponsorship dollars are counting on a good, scandal-free game.

Deflategate has created a circus-like atmosphere. New England Head Coach Bill Belichick, Quarterback Tom Brady and Owner Robert Kraft have each had at least one press conference to discuss the issue, essentially denying any wrongdoing. NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell has pledged to get to the bottom of the matter, though so far the NFL’s investigation has not come to any conclusions.

For communications and crisis management experts, the whole affair has been a vividly unfolding case study of what not to do and what goes wrong when an organization takes a ‘seat-of-the-pants’ approach to crisis management. In short, it’s been a disaster. The Patriots have done poorly, as has the league itself, and the consequence is a little gray cloud hanging over Sunday’s proceedings — and a sharply divided nation over whether the Patriots cheated.

It did not have to be this way. This so-called scandal should have lasted one news cycle, maybe two, if it had been managed correctly.

Here are six key issues that have allowed this incident to become ongoing national news, most of which could have been easily mitigated or resolved.

Excuses, excuses: Somehow, two weeks into this scandal, no one has been able to definitively say what happened. In his first press conference, Belichick said he did know anything about how footballs are prepared or approved for use prior to a game. And then he kept saying “I’ve told you everything I know,” to each question. Which is defensive by definition. Brady said he didn’t know what happened. The NFL seems to be leaking out details of its investigation, but overall it has not said what happened. We’re all left to wonder about the core facts, which is not a place we should be two weeks into this discussion. Of course, it’s entirely possible that the Patriots don’t know what happened, as they have said. But, then the league ought to be able to certify that footballs can, in fact, lose pressure due to other factors, such as atmospheric conditions. Takeaway: Someone, anyone, should have offered a set of definitive facts as quickly as possible, making it clear what is known and what is not.

The Roll-Out: Last Thursday morning, Belichick had a press conference in which he essentially denied all wrong-doing, and then said everyone should ask the quarterback. The six-hour pregnant pause in all of New England between the end of Belichick’s press conference and the start of Brady’s created some anticipation that Brady would take responsibility for the deflated footballs. But, then he didn’t. Brady came off as genuinely surprised and boyishly innocent about the whole thing. Still, separating those two press conferences and continuing to address it on Saturday and this week has fed the media beast on the issue far beyond what was necessary. The league issued a press release on a Friday afternoon that said nothing, other than that it was investigating the issue. Kraft was silent until Monday, leading to speculation about his views. Takeaway: The Patriots should have held one press conference, together, outlining the facts, presenting a unified image. Goodell should have addressed it sooner.

Spokespersonship: I’ve talked about this before, but there is an art to being an effective spokesperson. Either Belichick refuses to prepare properly or is uncoachable in this area. He is truculent with the media. He comes across as though he is hiding things when he is not. His eyes shift, his jaw sets, he leans back and he seems physically defensive. There is nothing reassuring about his tone or body language. Brady looked fairly open and, in my view, innocent. Goodell, like he was almost scared in his press conference. Takeaway: Each could use coaching on delivering clear, concise and direct answers to questions.

The Calendar: If there is one truth in life and in crisis, it is that the calendar does not lie. Good crisis managers know that the calendar is the backbone of almost everything they will do. Yet, we’re going to watch a major sporting event Sunday, without a resolution of this tempest. That’s bad for everyone. If the Patriots win, New England will rejoice and the rest of the nation will call them cheaters. If the Seahawks win, the nation will say that it proves the Patriots cheated to get there and when the world was watching, they could not cheat and were defeated. Both of those interpretations are wildly unfair. One cannot gather all the facts on everything in a limited time span, but it does seem like this should be the sort of thing that could be done completely and quickly. Takeaway: As soon as this was seen to be a significant issue, the organizations involved – both the Patriots and the NFL, needed to start managing the clock and looking to address questions and put the issue behind them.

Reputation and trust: The Patriots have been accused of, and in one instance found guilty of cheating. In 2007’s “SpyGate” scandal, the team was accused of videotaping the New York Jets defensive coaches during a 2007 game, . Even the completely legal, “trick” offensive formations the Patriots used against the Baltimore Ravens in their second-round playoff game, were a proof point that New England will look to bend the rules. In that context, Belichick’s repeated denials strained belief. The NFL has shown that it can barely manage a crisis, performing poorly on the Ray Rice and Adrian Peterson off-the-field domestic violence issues. And, it came up short by not dealing effectively with this one. Takeaway: Reputation matters, and needs to frame the context of the messaging around crises, and the approach to the response.

Lack of context: The one question no one appears to have addressed is, does this thing really matter? What is the punishment for using underinflated footballs during regulation play? I presume that there is no punishment, since the referees did not impose a penalty on the Patriots after the issue was discovered at halftime of the game. I’ve seen multiple demonstrations of how deflated footballs either do or don’t aid a passer or a running back. So if there is no punishment, is there a crime? Multiple quarterbacks have stated that it really doesn’t make a difference. Based on that, I’m inclined to think this is much ado about nothing, but by failing to set that context, the league has allowed the situation to get completely out of hand. Takeaway: Someone needs to address the stakes and help the general public understand what matters in an incident like this. Often best if it is a credible third party. Both organizations didn’t do that, and so we’re all left wondering what to think.

So what does this all mean? This reminds me of the famous “Pine Tar” incident in Major League Baseball. In 1983, when the New York Yankees and the Kansas City Royals were playing a not-terribly significant game, George Brett came up in a 4-3 game in the bottom of the 9th inning and hit a home run. Yankees General Manager Billy Martin protested to the umpires that Brett’s bat had an excess of pine tar that was against the regulations. On the spot, umpires inspected the bat, declared the home run nullified and called Brett out, ending the game.

It was an incredibly controversial call. Brett rushed out of the visiting dugout, looking like he was going to kill the umpire. He had to be restrained and started screaming. Soon it emerged that Martin had noticed the pine tar earlier in the season, and had waited for the right moment to raise the issue.

I’d forgotten the outcome of the incident – my most vivid recollection was the image of Brett screaming at the umpires. It turns out that the Royals appealed the umpires’ decision. The League granted their appeal and reinstated Brett’s home run. They ordered that the game be replayed from the point of Brett’s home run, later in the season.. The Yankees did not score, and the Royals won the game 5-4.

It was the right call, no question about it.

Applying this to Deflategate, the parallels are clear, and the differences are instructive. In the pine tar incident, referees made an overreaching decision on the field, and the league stepped back, evaluated the thing that mattered most – did the pine tar meaningfully impact Brett’s ability to hit the home run – and came to a clear, fair decision.

In Deflategate, it’s clear that the whole issue was not important enough to prompt the referees to take any action on the field. And yet, we now have a league that is investigating the issue and potentially meting out punishment based on what that investigation finds.

My sense is that the regulation about football inflation levels is merely meant to standardize the game, not to deny cheaters a competitive advantage. I think it’s also likely that there are conditions in which a football can lose pressure without a vast conspiracy to carry it out.

Regardless, the past two weeks have given us a lot to think about from a crisis management perspective. Deflategate has shown us how quickly a minor issue can emerge from nowhere and dominate an industry’s discussion. It’s shown us how long a crisis can persist when key questions remain unanswered. It’s shown us how poor performances by leaders can raise doubts and fuel negative speculation based on reputational issues.

More than anything, it has shown how needed a decisive arbiter is in situations that involve allegations of cheating.It would be great to hope we could have league come forth with a clear and decisive proclamation about Deflategate that will put everything into perspective and allow us to enjoy a game. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t put great odds on that happening.

The ‘Greatest Rock ‘n’ Roll Band of All Time’ that Wasn’t — and Why

The Kinks’s songs were often inspired by everyday scenes of British life, like this Waterloo Sunset. Photo by Steve Walker, is licensed under CC BY 2.0
By Mike Kuczkowski

In the early 1960s, a band emerged from Great Britain that would change the very face of rock ‘n’ roll.

Led by a dynamic duo, this band started its career by recording covers of songs by American R&B and blues artists. In the mid-1960s, they began penning their own tunes. Their third single was a jolt to the airwaves, producing a sound that had never been heard before and skyrocketing to the top of the charts.

Over time, the band staggeringly produced a rich catalog marked by melodic songs, evocative lyrics and a wide range of styles. They drew on diverse influences: blues, jazz, folk, country, British dance hall music and show tunes. They introduced Indian music to a Western pop music audience. In 1972, Rolling Stone’s Mike Saunders declared them “none other than the greatest rock and roll band of all time.” Decades later, bands like Oasis and Blur would cite them as a major influence.

I’m not talking about The Beatles, The Who or The Rolling Stones. I’m talking about The Kinks.

Brothers Ray and Dave Davies formed The Kinks in 1963 in the Muswell Hill part of North London, when Ray was 19 and Dave was 16 years old. In 1964, after struggling to get a record deal, they released their third song, the distorted three-chord rock single “You Really Got Me.” Dave Davies achieved the sound by slitting the fabric of his amplifier’s speakers with a razor. A legend was born.

They went on to produce a series of hit songs and strong albums over the next eight years, covering an incredibly wide swath of musical territory.

No one is making the claim that The Kinks are the greatest band in rock and roll history, not even me. But, they were very, very goodbetter than they are remembered today, and their case holds important lessons for marketers and brand leaders about the ways in which a great product can fail.

I rediscovered The Kinks last summer, when their back catalog from the 1960s and 1970s quietly appeared in Apple’s iTunes store without fanfare or promotion, marking the band’s 50th anniversary.

Listening to these albums was eye opening. The hits I knew were as good as I’d remembered, but there were dozens of tracks I’d never heard or barely remembered that were simply brilliant. Why was this band not a dominant part of the musical conversation? The Rolling Stones and The Who sell out stadium shows, grossing hundreds of millions of dollars. The Kinks, who broke up in 1996, don’t even get an artist’s profile in the iTunes store. If they reunited, they would be a theater show at best – no arenas.

What caused The Kinks to wind up in the dust bin of rock and roll?

In his best-seller “The Tipping Point,” Malcolm Gladwell makes the case that social epidemics – a proxy for breakout commercial successes – are driven by a combination of factors he terms “connectors”, “mavens” and “salesmen.” His concept is that a small innovation can go “viral” and become a breakout success if it can cultivate people who are well-connected, people who curate new information, and people who are charismatic advocates for that innovation.

Surely The Kinks lacked one or more of these critical factors. Let’s look a bit more closely.

Mavens: They had well-regarded, “maven-ish” advocates, in the form of musical peers like the Who’s Pete Townsend, who declared that Ray Davies should be Britain’s poet laureate, and David Bowie, who says “I’ve never heard a Kinks song I didn’t like.” John Lennon is also said to have been a fan. Upon hearing The Kinks single “Wonderboy,” Lennon reportedly asked the DJ of a London restaurant to play the song over and over again one night. (Davies was no fan of Lennon’s, regarding Lennon as arrogant.)

Connectors: The Kinks had “connectors” in the form of critics, who largely liked the band and its music. While Saunders’ 1972 quote above, in a mixed review of The Kinks’ Muswell Hillbillies, is a bit of hyperbole, no editor cut it out. Rock critic Robert Christgau described their 1967 song “Waterloo Sunset” as “the most beautiful song in the English language.”

Salesman: They had charismatic “salesman” in Ray Davies himself, who has all the traits one could want in a frontman—hubris, a wild imagination and great stories to tell. Davies was famously truculent with the media, arrogant and irascible at times, but that would only serve to aid the promotion of many other frontmen. Dave Davies, the guitarist and sometimes singer, was also good with a quote. When asked if the band was trying to play heavy metal in the 1980s, the younger Davies replied “It wasn’t called heavy metal when I invented it.

What went wrong?

The Kinks had three problems that I would describe as system barriers.

Market Access: During the critical period of 1965 and 1969, when they were making their best music and bands like The Beatles, The Beach Boys, Bob Dylan and The Rolling Stones were feeding and feeding on a music-led culture, The Kinks lacked access to the biggest commercial market in the world, and the market that set the pace for the industry.

In 1965, after a brief American tour in which the band fought on stage and destroyed equipment, the American Federation of Musicians banned The Kinks from touring in America. The strike was not resolved for four years.

The American ban hurt. In 1967, when “Waterloo Sunset” was released, it went to #2 in Britain, but failed to chart in America. Today, Rolling Stone ranks that song #42 on its list of the 500 greatest rock songs of all time. (“You Really Got Me” is #80.)

Timing: The Kinks were often out of step with their times. While The Beatles were experimenting with psychedelica and absurdist lyrics, and hard rock and heavy metal were emerging as dominant forces, Ray Davies was writing about tea, sunsets and sunny afternoons. This focus on the details of everyday life is at the core of indie rock 25 years later, but in the late 1960s and early 1970s it was not popular. One example: In 1971, while The Kinks’ heavy metal descendants were celebrating excess and drug abuse, The Kinks recorded the remarkable lament “Alcohol,” a swinging, New Orleans-style dirge about a man whose life had fallen apart because of his drinking. Years later, when heavy metal was breaking through, The Kinks released the mediocre “Give the People What They Want,” an uninspired attempt at capitalizing on the popularity of the genre they helped create.

Product consistency & availability: The Kinks suffered from two basic “operations” problems. They were often rushed in and out of the studio, and the band often complained that the production quality of its singles was far short of its expectations. You can hear this, particularly in the mid-1960s albums. Kinda Kinks, the band’s second album, was rushed out of the studio in two weeks. (As Ray Davies later said, “a bit more care should have been taken with it… It had better songs on it than the first album, but it wasn’t executed in the right way. It was just far too rushed.”) In 1967, with the release of Something Else by the Kinks, the label rushed out the single “Autumn Almanac” to try to boost flagging sales. It would be the band’s last top 10 single for the next several years. The band also suffered distribution problems. With a series of bad label deals, their back catalog has often not been available. Pye Records – their mid-1960s label – kept few of The Kinks’ original masters, opting to rerecord other artists over their session tapes. When Van Halen hit it big with “You Really Got Me,” The Kinks Greatest Hits was hard to find. One of their most highly regarded albums, 1969’s Arthur (Or the Decline and Fall of the British Empire), still isn’t available for download on iTunes or Amazon in the US.

What lessons do these issues hold for marketers?

First, it’s critical to understand the environment, and have a strategy that is right for that environment. Getting locked out of the US market at the peak of their creativity was a huge blow to The Kinks’ success. In 1970, the UK was an aging market of 55.6 million people. The US, by contrast, was a youth-oriented market of 207 million. When singles began to chart in the UK but not break through in America, it should have been a single that The Kinks’ lack of presence in America was dragging them down. Yet the ban was not resolved until after the release of The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society. By that time, audiences and promoters weren’t interested in The Kinks anymore. Dates were cancelled. The tour was a flop.

Second, operational excellence plays a crucial role in establishing and maintaining a brand’s reputation and its commercial success. When Pye Records rushed out Kinda Kinks, I’m sure it had very good intentions of capitalizing on a strong run of hits. But when the quality of the recording did not hold up, it undermined the band’s long-term legacy. If you compare contemporary recordings by The Beatles, like Help, with Kinda Kinks, there’s simply no comparison.

Finally, marketing strategy must reflect the qualities of the underlying product. When The Kinks were producing more introspective and personal songs, the promotion of the albums remained locked in to boastful claims of the group’s greatness. Notably, a radio spot for Muswell Hillbillies included in this year’s rerelease, quotes critics positive reviews heralding it as, in the words of one reviewer “The Album of the Year.” In fact, the album was completely out of step with its times – in a good way. But this was the year of The Rolling Stones’ Sticky Fingers, The Who’s Who’s Next, Led Zeppelin’s Led Zeppelin IV, and The Doors’ LA Woman — big, loud albums completely at odds with the intimacy of Muswell Hillbillies. Frankly, they still don’t appear to understand this. The band’s official web site dates to 2011, it celebrates “32 years of greatness,” referring to the band’s 1964 to 1996 span. There are only three albums on the band’s YouTube channel.

It’s not like The Kinks were a complete flop. Four of their records went gold, and they had five top 10 US singles. And they left a fantastic legacy. There is a direct line between the raw three-chord rock of “You Really Got Me” and the pnk movement. “Everybody’s Gonna Be Happy” sounds like the British New Wave, 10 years too soon. “Lola” was an utterly unique hit single. The distorted sounds of “All Day and All of the Night” and “I Need You” presaged the hard rock of Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath.

One thing is clear, the factors that inhibited the success of The Kinks would not have had the same impact today. In an era when U2 can reach 500 million iTunes subscribers with the touch of a button, The Kinks would not have been shut out of America by a touring ban. I think their more narrative-driven albums would have found a larger audience. In today’s music world, I suspect strongly they would have made the charts more often, and with more staying power.

Luckily, it’s not too late. You can still listen to Face to Face, Something Else by the Kinks, The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society, Lola Versus Powerman and the Moneygoround and Muswell Hillbillies. If you do, you too will wonder why this band isn’t at the top tier of the conversation of the greatest rock and roll bands of all time.