"POWER TENDS to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." John Acton didn't expect these immortal words to be the foundation for a rock oratorio of the twentieth century. Nowadays one would be tempted to deride anyone foolhardy enough to philosophize upon a money-and-corruption theme, to say nothing of consecrating six record sides to it. Well, if there is anyone in the realm of popular music that could make such an overworked story line appealing it's the Kink's Raymond Douglas Davies. His magic formula of piercing insight combined with a wry, subtle wit enables Davies to direct his songwriting talents toward atomizing situations of class and culture. Originally Davies dealt with situations that were inherently English, but ever since the Everybody's in Show Biz LP he has been preoccupied with the Atlantic's other side. The Kinks' latest album, Preservation, rooted in the stuff that went on in the Village Green Preservation Society, is the culmination of Davies's extended look at America.

In order to increase its chances of commercial succes, Preservation was released as two separate albums, or "Acts." Act I, setting the stage, presents three characters or archetypes based upon the three sides of Davies's shifting personality. There is Mr. Black, the original altruist and vanguard of the people, who gradually is tranformed into a crazy, tyrannical despot as his power increases. Then there is Flash, a corrupt gangster-like politician currently in power, whose mere presence is a cause for alarm among the people. Finally there is the Tramp, a social dropout who acts as the detached narrator and is probably the character with whom Davies identifies most.

It is not until Act II that Davies allows the main plot to develop--the rise of Mr. Black and the People's Army and the fall of Flash. Mr. Black capitalizes upon Flash's fall from grace in the public eye to implement his ideal, a kind of brave new world in which all men are artificial robots programmed to run at maximum efficiency. Preservation finds its denouement in Mr. Black's ultimate behaviorial mechanization of Flash, leaving one with many of the same thoughts as did A Clockwork Orange.

Although Preservation Acts I and II were satisfying musically, there was nevertheless something lacking, and that something was a stage. Unlike previous concept albums by the Kinks, which were simply collections of songs dealing with touring and the ups and downs of life as a rock and roll star, Preservation has bits and pieces of dramatic dialogue. Furthermore, the Kinks have taken on several new members to play character parts. But since theatrical directions were deliberately not specified, Kinks fans have had to wait for a live presentation of Preservation by the Kinks themselves. This opportunity finally presented itself to the people of Boston this past Sunday at the Music Hall.

FOR THE MAJORITY of the Kink kultists present, the situation could not have been more utopian. Not only did the concert start promptly, but there was no warm-up group to try the waiting audience's patience. Furthermore, the two-part format of the concert allowed the audience to have its cake and eat, too. The first part, which lasted close to an hour, consisted of a well-chosen selection of former hits including such favorites as "You Really Got Me," "Celluloid Heroes," "Skin and Bones," "Here Comes Yet Another Day," and "Waterloo Sunset." When Ray Davies wasn't flopping around like a marionette with rubber bands instead of strings for support, he was either pinching brother and lead guitarist Dave Davies or exercising his mesmerizing ability on the audience.

"Alcohol," undoubtedly the highlight of the first part, provided the perfect outlet for Davies's strong attachment to the music hall/vaudeville traditions of his youth. The song was introduced in a quasi-puritanical manner, in which Davies warned the world against the imminent dangers of demon alcohol, while keyboard man John Gosling tinkled the ivories in such a fashion as to mock good-naturedly the somber scenario Davies tried to conjure up. The song's crapulous ambiance was supported by the sluggish, drawn out tempo of the Dixieland horn section and Davies's possibly unintentional slurring of the lyrics (by that time he had quite a bit to drink). Since the previously established snail's pace of the tune did not lend itself to a final ritard, the tune did not lend itself in the only way possible--the band itself literally falling headlong onto the stage. The band did one final number, "Good Golly Miss Molly," which featured some highly impressive guitar work on the part of brother Dave. The audience's desire for the pre-Preservation Kinks having been satisfied, the stage was set for the grand spectacle to come.

PRESERVATION WAS introduced in a cinematographic style which included a recording of a kind of lyrical overture accompanied by slides projected on a large screen to announce the oratorio title and introduce the protagonists. The performance proper commenced with a mixed choir clad in garments befitting Gregorian monks. Appropriately enough, the introductory segment was a melodious theme calling to mind twelfth century plainchant. The show proceeded faultlessly without elaborate ornamentation or stage settings, which was just as well, since it allowed the audience to concentrate on the musical side of the production.

A potential difficulty with the theatrical version of Preservation, Ray Davies's simultaneous portrayal of three different characters, was ingeniously side-stepped. On stage, Davies played the role of Flash, while Mr. Black was perfectly portrayed by a haunting, insidious Davies in a film projected onto the stage screen. The grotesque projection of his image and the resounding echo of his voice gave him the quality of an omni-present big-brother figure. The Tramp, though, was dispensed with entirely, an unfortunate necessity, for while his character is not essential to the story, his part included some of the best songs on the album.

Preservation's success lay not only in its faultless presentation, but more importantly in Davies's portrayal of Flash. Flash became three-dimensional, and his characterization included a hedged but still eloquent plea for compassion for the guys with the black hats. Davies's failure to develop Mr. Black's character seemed almost intentional. Mr. Black's distaste for emotion and his calculated and scheming manner made him the perfect model for his vision of a society composed of artificial men. Finally, Davies made sure that Preservation lacked neither melodrama, as in the bit about Flash's dream of his soul speaking to him like the ghost of Christmas past, or comedy, as when a pair of floozies rolled out an enlarged television screen in order to satisfy Flash's desire to appear on television.

As the cast took its curtain calls, the audience clamored for more. There were guesses as to whether the Kinks would encore with "Victoria," or Act I's "One of the Survivors." That the Kinks did not return should not have been surprising in the least. Nothing followed because nothing could follow. Sunday night Preservation was perfection.