A man wearing a grey jacket and jeans strides purposefully onto the stage clutching a thick black book and a battered briefcase. Hang on, didn't you used to be Ray Davies?
Well, his barnet's a lot shorter at the moment but that's not the only difference. You see Ray is 'The Storyteller'. Accompanied by just a guitarist, he intersperses stories from The Kinks' early days with songs from the past and the present.
After a strident opening 'Sunny Afternoon' he announces, "I'm now going to read from the black book, the black book of 'X-Ray'" and transforms into the persona of the gnarled old rocker from his autobiography, narrating his own story through someone else.
He begins by going back to the start of the 20th century - cue 'Victoria' - to set the scene of his upbringing in London's Muswell Hill, in a country changed by the decline of Empire and the arrival of American music.
Ray recounts the influence of his sisters' record collections on his formative years - even pulling out a rendition of 'That Old Black Magic' to illustrate a story about brother Dave and him spying on his sisters' romantic liaisons. The story moves on with snatches of Kinks classics - 'Tired Of Waiting For You', 'Autumn Almanac', 'Set Me Free' - and some rarer material like 'Stop Your Sobbing' and the gorgeous 'Two Sisters'.
There's also some songs written especially for the production - the self-explanatory 'London Song', 'X-Ray', and a track about a lost "muse" from the Kinks' early days called 'The Ballad Of Julie Finkle'. While no doubt intended to ensure the evening doesn't feature too much talking, they're too wordy and pale in comparison to the material surrounding them.
He regularly pokes fun at the attitude of drummer Mick Avory - who was resolutely "straight" in the face of the band's camp demeanour - and the management triumvirate of City boys Robert Wace and Grenville Collins, and East End boy Larry Page. He also vents his spleen at the music industry big boys by juxtaposing the rocky 'Powerman' and the vaudevillian 'The Moneygoround'.
In the end, though, Davies confesses, they were remarkable times. Indeed, The Kinks arguably have the most action-packed tale of all of the 60s bands to tell - band in-fighting, homoerotic experiences and contracts from hell.
For a finale, Ray exhorts us to pretend we're in Madison Square Gardens as The Kinks return to America after a three-year performance ban - not easily achievable in a three-quarters full hall in south London - before launching into 'Lola'.
He ends with a lovely 'Days' (for which he returns to his real self to dedicate it to Kirsty MacColl) and the still magnificent 'Waterloo Sunset', before returning for a final burst of the song that made it all happen - 'You Really Got Me'.
It's an entertaining night for the newcomer but while it's hard to be harsh on the creator of some of the greatest songs in British music, he has been peddling this show for six years now. Has he really got nothing else to offer? Maybe it's time the real Ray Davies stood up.
