Kinks Chaos at the Capitol: Cardiff’s forgotten role in rock history

Amy Cuff

May 19 marks 60 years since one of rock’s most notorious bust-ups — at Cardiff’s Capitol Theatre in 1965.

The night would leave Kinks’ guitarist Dave Davies unconscious, drummer Mick Avory a fugitive from justice and the whole band teetering on collapse.

As a Cardiff local and lifelong Kinks fan, I was intrigued by the event as most accounts were fragmented and contradictory, often treated as a quirky footnote in books or documentaries, or a mere segway to the next chapter in The Kinks story.

Cardiff, as the location of the chaos, often goes unreported, with many assuming it happened in London.

I wanted to uncover the truth: what really happened that night when the Kinks’ chaos shook the music world.

The audience

I began by finding people who were actually there. A family friend, 74-year-old Gill Phillips, excitedly texted me when she heard about my research: “I was there!”

She recounted that night as if it took place yesterday, her eyes filling with her revived teenage excitement. Gill was 14 years old and already working full time at Boots. After her shift, she and her friends changed outfits and hurried to the Capitol Theatre — then the cultural heart of Cardiff.

Tickets were jaw-droppingly cheap compared to today: the best seats cost 10 shillings and 6 pence – that’s the equivalent of £14 in today’s currency.

Looking back through the monochrome photos of the theatre’s exterior, the curled letters of the “Capitol” sign radiate vintage glamour. Today, all that stands is a vape shop and an empty café, with no trace of the legendary venue that hosted The Beatles, Stevie Wonder, Tina Turner, Diana Ross & The Supremes, Queen and, for a few minutes at least, The Kinks.

Gill remembers The Kinks taking the stage and launching into You Really Got Me, their chart-topping hit, before chaos broke loose.

“I remember the one kicking the drums, which flew off the stage into the audience, and then the other bashed him over the head! Next minute, one of them was on the floor. We all thought it was part of the act.”

News reports in the days that followed stated that some members of the audience howled with laughter, others screamed, even fainted. One audience member told a reporter: “Dave’s face was a mask of blood. It was a horrible sight.”

The Fight

The Kinks featured the ultimate rock siblings, Ray and Dave Davies, whose infamous rivalry makes Oasis’ Gallagher brothers look tame. But this fight wasn’t between the Kinks’ brothers — it was drummer Mick Avory whose outburst of rage shocked everyone.

In the pages of Dave Davies’ autobiography ‘Living On A Thin Line’ lay answers as to what really happened on stage: “Something inside me snapped … I glared at Mick. ‘You’re a useless c*nt,’ I yelled, before telling him that his playing was shit and that his drums would sound better if he played them with his cock. I made a gesture, like he was wanking on his drums, then kicked over his bass drum and the rest of his kit fell like dominoes.

“Suddenly I’m lying on my back in the dressing room backstage, blood pouring from my head. I learned later that Mick had picked up his hi-hat and thwacked me on the back of my head. He considered his drums to be like sacred objects, and he took what I’d done very badly, like I had assaulted him personally.”

Behind the Curtain

For another eyewitness account I met 79-year-old Ray Lovesgrove, a Penarth-born Kinks roadie, during his brief visit home to south Wales. Sitting on a bench in The Hayes, Cardiff, he fondly recalled the 1960s and friendships with legends like Jimi Hendrix, passers-by unaware of the extraordinary rock stories he was quietly sharing.

Then, the conversation turned to “that night”.

He said: “The audience thought it was part of the act, but I knew it wasn’t. I shouted to the team: ‘there’s been a fight on stage, close the curtain’. I ran onto the stage. I grabbed the curtain, actually hanging on to it trying to close it! I was telling people: ‘calm down, there’s no big problem’.

“But Mick did a runner, I don’t know where he went, and just did a runner, he thought he’d killed him [Dave].”

Mick fled into the night. Witnesses remember his outfit, a white frilly shirt and a pink hunting jacket – hardly attire for a man on the run through the streets of Cardiff.

Over the years, Mick has stayed quiet on the events of that night, but in a 1996 BBC interview he revealed: “I took flight, as I was scared I’d killed him. I ran out the building and settled in a café down the road …crying.”

Backstage, Kinks frontman Ray Davies was reportedly heard sobbing, “It’s all over, we can’t go on after this. It’s the end.”

Dave was stretchered out and taken to Cardiff Royal Infirmary, where he received 16 stitches.

An announcer told the stunned crowd that The Kinks wouldn’t be performing again “for reasons beyond our control”. The Yardbirds were drafted in to fill the remainder of the evening.

Mick was eventually found in a café by a crew member who reassured him that Dave was alive.

“When they finally caught up and arrested him, Mick tried to deny it all. But the cops turned round and said ‘Mr Avory, we’ve got 5,000 witnesses!’ Ray Davies told the Wales On Sunday in 2013.

Dave, reluctant to press charges, later wrote in his autobiography: “I didn’t want to land him in the shit … what would that have meant for the future of The Kinks?”

The Spin

Had it happened today, videos would have flooded TikTok within minutes. But in the pre-social media era, The Kinks’ management were able to attempt to spin it as a “prank gone wrong”, an elaborate tale of a choreographed fake attempt to twirl and throw around their instruments.

It’s astonishing in hindsight how easily most of the media swallowed this extravagant tale. Over the years, Kinks members clarified the truth: the fight stemmed from simmering tensions.

The Kinks were a band of the 60s when discussions around mental health and wellbeing were non-existent. They were faced with immense pressure to tour, perform, and produce hits by an industry that treated acts as profitable commodities. Dealing with the pressures and sudden fame must have been challenging for The Kinks, who were between 17 and 21 years old.

In the biography “God Save The Kinks”, Rob Jovanovic tells how tensions reached a breaking point the night before the Cardiff gig over a conversation between the brothers about a set list.

Mick was reluctantly drawn in, understandably wary of being caught between the two brothers. A heated argument led to an altercation between Dave and Mick that was left unresolved until the next evening, on stage, in Cardiff.

Uncertain future

Following Cardiff, the band cancelled future gigs and retreated to London. Dave wrote in his autobiography that Cardiff had presented the band with a “moment of reckoning, a fork in the road”.

He stated: “We could have all walked away … but we chose to come back. The music was great and getting better, and maybe that was enough to pull us through.”

The Cardiff incident and the setback caused by an unrelated US touring ban, sparked a musical reinvention, leading the band to look inward and reflect on their culture. The result was some of their best-known tracks such as Waterloo Sunset and Sunny Afternoon — songs that wouldn’t exist had they disbanded after the Cardiff gig.

Nostalgia or nightmare?

Today the Kinks legacy endures, with the band ranking 23rd in BBC Radio 2’s Ultimate British Group audience poll. Throughout 2024, several events marked the 60th anniversary of their first number 1 hit, You Really Got Me.

It was at one of these events that I met Mick, the drummer at the heart of the Cardiff chaos.

Despite being part of an iconic rock group, he was surprisingly down-to-earth.

Detecting my accent, he enquired where I was from. When I replied Cardiff, he reacted with a sigh and eye roll, muttering: ‘Oh no, don’t mention the Capitol!’ The incident clearly lingers in his memory.

At 81, Mick tours with the Kast Off Kinks – made up of former Kinks members and associates – playing to packed audiences across the UK.

In March, they played a sell-out gig at Cardiff’s Acapela Studio. Mick charmed the Welsh crowd with his self-deprecating humour: “When I was with The Kinks I was never allowed to sing. When I started this band, they said we think we should sing a song …I said: ‘I’ve been mute for 40 years, you’re about to find out why’.”

Following a long swig of lager, he delights the audience with a rousing rendition of Dedicated Follower of Fashion.

After the gig, I asked Mick if he’d be open to an interview. He agreed – but the next morning, he changed his mind. He later texted to apologise, writing: “It was 60 years ago … and I would rather not dig it up again.”

I felt guilty for possibly stirring up a bad memory, so I apologised in return. I realised that what has been a footnote in The Kinks history, often treated as a comic example of “wild rock’n’roll” behaviour, was a more traumatic event for those at the heart of the story than I could have imagined.

Cardiff’s Forgotten Claim to Rock Fame

The Capitol Theatre fight remains a forgotten chapter in Cardiff’s history. The building may be gone, but the echoes of that night — the music, the mayhem, the crash of a drum kit turned weapon — still resonate in rock mythology.

Locally, it remains an urban myth, with many still unaware that this pivotal moment happened right here in Cardiff. This was the night the swinging sixties rolled into town, albeit as a display of violence and alpha-male bravado, rather than the “peace and love” vibe associated with the era.

Despite the differing experiences of that night, one thing remains certain: it will live forever in the memories of all those who were there and experienced the chaos of the Capitol.