(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)
Song: “Keep Me Turning”
Album: Rough Mix
Release Date: September,
1977
Texas was
everything I expected it to be when I first visited the Lone Star State in
1993: Big, and proud, bold and loud. Perhaps the image had been imprinted to such
a degree beforehand that it was impossible to break out of this stereotypical
conclusion; 30 years of a Northern Yankee upbringing could do that to you. And yet, it’s not like I’d been a local yokel
to that point. Mom and Dad had taken the
family on numerous summer vacations outside the region. I’d already been to Europe a few times too,
and spent a year in Canada. These trips
came with preconceived notions on what to expect at the various destinations,
and each weighed up to a reputation in one form or another. But they all threw curve balls at me
too. Not Texas.
From the get
go I had done my best to blend in, arriving at San Antonio’s airport sporting
my Dad’s impressive vanilla-white Stetson cowboy hat, which I would wear much
of my time there. Dad had purchased the
hat 10 years earlier, a memento from Boston College’s Cotton Bowl victory in
Dallas during the Doug Flutie glory years; a trip he shares great memories with
my brother’s Fred and Joe (all three are BC grads). In the interim Dad had made the most of that Stetson,
wearing it out and about the streets of Franklin, Massachusetts when the fancy
took him (which was often in the first year or two). Now the hat was making the trek back to more familiar
countryside.
I had made
the short flight in from New Orleans, post work conference, and since my lovely
wife Nancy was not due to arrive for an hour or so from home, I set out to find
her Uncle on my own, who had planned on meeting us there. Mario was a native of San Antonio, his latter-year
military career stationed on Lackland Air Force Base. He and his gracious wife Mary would be
hosting us for several days before Nancy and I tackled the tail end of our
vacation out at Big Bend National Park in the far western part of the state. At that moment in the airport, I had yet to
meet Mario and Mary. Having watched Tedesco
family homemade videos and photos however, I thought I had a pretty good idea
what they looked like. And so when I
spotted a tall slender fellow in his 60s, with white hair, side burns and
moustache, standing by the baggage claim area with a younger guy whom I presumed
to be Nancy’s cousin’s husband, and each of them appearing to be scanning the crowd,
I assumed I had my man. I walked up and
said “Mario?” The imposter stared at me
a moment and then, glancing over at his companion, uttered something incoherent
(at least for me) in his Texas drawl before letting out a sarcastic cackle. What the…..?! He made it sound as if I had asked the
stupidest question of all time. I never
got an answer.
Welcome to
Texas!
First
impressions can be indelible, and that one unfortunately was a negative one. As the visit unfolded though, other more positive
Texas-style experiences played out that quickly made up for it. Family-lead tours of the Alamo and other
Missions, the River Walk and the Japanese Tea Garden, along with the friendly
confines of Mario and Mary, along with Nancy’s cousin Vanessa and her husband
John’s homes, all got me back on the right track. No stone was left unturned on that trip.
One seemingly
innocuous memory that has persisted to this day took place at Fiesta Texas (now
Six Flags Fiesta Texas) just north of the city; a massive theme park with an
inescapable Lone Star theme. This was
evident from the moment we passed through the turnstiles around noontime that
weekday all the way through to the evening festivities, reaffirming that no
other State puts an emphasis on ‘State’ quite like Texas. A predictable component of this theme was
what was piping through speakers all across the park; that being downhome
country music. After a while, it just kind
of settled into the background - elevator ‘muzak’ as far as I was
concerned. This, along with the whole
Texas vibe, is likely the reason why it didn’t quite register right off when I
heard a familiar song coming out of those speaker; a Pete Townshend hidden-treasure cover version
of the Don Williams song “Till the Rivers all Run Dry”.
As I geared
up for this inevitable Who blog series several months back, I recalled my thought
process on the Rolling Stones series (“Stepping Stones”) four years ago, when I
made the decision early on that none of their solo works would be included in my
reflections. My thinking was that the
Stones are an entity unto themselves, and any deviation from that (i.e. Keith
Richards marvelous Talk is Cheap solo
album) would detract from that singular focus.
Same goes for the Who. An
objective with both (and a future Beatles blog, hopefully) is to marvel over
the type of creativity that can come with longstanding collective spirit (in
somewhat of a contrast to the Neil Young series two years ago and a future-hopeful
Bob Dylan series, which celebrate the individual).
There’s
something different here, however, that is unavoidable to me. All these series are partly about a return to
and goodbye (in terms of in-depth listening) to these musicians I have truly
enjoyed by immersing myself in their music for a full solid year - no
distractions with public radio or sports talk or other music - and dedicating
my writing for that year to what their music has done for me. For this series, I’ve decided that I would be
remiss to not include Pete Townshend’s solo works. There are a number of reasons why. First of all, Townshend’s solo albums are a
huge part of the equation for me. Secondly
they are excellent. Thirdly, they are
interwoven into the Who story. Fourthly,
they are interwoven into my story. And
finally, it makes it all a bit more challenging and fun. In turn, I see this as an overlap of the
collective and the individual that I can identify with.
Side Note: I think Pete Townshend should be considered
for induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a solo artist: If Ringo can do it for goodness sake, why not
Pete?
“Till the
Rivers All Run Dry” is a cut off the Pete Townshend/Ronnie Lane 1977 collaborative
album Rough Mix. It was Townshend’s first real public musical foray
from the Who, and he did it at the bequest of Lane, who was originally just
looking for a loan. PT’s offering
instead was a joint venture. Ronnie Lane
and Pete Townshend had several things in common. Lane was the bass player for the Small Faces
in the 60s. If any other band besides
the Who associated themselves with the “mod” scene in London in the mid-60s, it
was the Small Faces. The two bands also hit
the road together, which included an infamous 1968 Australian tour (let me put
it this way, the Who would not go back to Australia for 40 years).
Their
strongest connection though was faith based.
Both were devoted to the teachings of Meher Baba (who may be best known
in pop culture for coining the term “don’t worry, be happy” and of course
occupying half the song title “Baba O’Riley”).
Similar to the Beatles, Pete Townshend turned to India for spiritual
guidance. For three of the Beatles it
was a short-lived fab fad (George Harrison being the exception). Not so Townshend, who remains a follower to
this day (Ronnie Lane, who was suffering from the early stages of multiple
sclerosis when Rough Mix was produced
also remained devoted to Baba. He would
eventually succumb to the disease in 1997).
Meher Baba
ties are everywhere in Pete Townshend’s music, from “Bargain” to Tommy (“Listening to You”) to “Don’t Let
Go the Coat” to “Empty Glass” to the “Who Are You” chorus to the middle section
in “Behind Blue Eyes” to “Faith in Something Bigger”. These are some of Townshend’s best compositions,
so I’ve always been under the belief that there has to be something there; an
added force that makes them shine. With a
general focus on what is good and right, Pete Townshend’s faith through his
music has helped me with my own Catholic faith.
I have thoroughly
enjoyed listening to Rough Mix this
week. Much of it is faith based, but far
from an in-your-face way. As with most great
artists, Pete Townshend (and Ronnie Lane) leaves wiggle room for
self-interpretation. And there’s enough
variety on the album with other topics to keep the album fresh from beginning
to end. “My Baby Gives it Away”, the
opening number, is about as upbeat of a tempo as you are ever going to hear on
a pop song (Charlie Watts on drums). “Nowhere
to Run” climbed my personal song-ladder this week (the lyrics “Michael’s rowing? Where’s he going?” > a reference to the
“Michael Row the Boat Ashore” civil war negro spiritual perhaps?). “Heart to Hang Onto” is a touching shout-out
to those wandering souls among us. “Street
in the City” is a classy orchestral score with Townshend’s father in law Ted
Astley.
My Big Top
entry is one of those Meher Baba inspired numbers, “Keep Me Turning” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nv6aKElzEH8). To turn means to repent. “Don’t
you leave me to the very last!” Pete Townshend sings in his magnificent angelic
falsetto. Over the upcoming decade
Townshend would roll out a litany of songs with an “Amazing Grace”, Prodigal
Son theme to them. “Keep Me Turning” was
an early indication of this direction in his song writing.
So, why was
hearing “Till the Rivers All Run Dry” (which also has “Amazing Grace”
connotations) on those Fiesta Texas speakers stuck with me all this time? It is after all a country song (which I did
not even think about until that moment; I just considered it a great tune). Thinking about it now, I believe I would have
been equally charmed if I’d heard it in any theme park around the country. But I heard it deep in the heart of Texas, a
place I probably needed a little reassurance from in terms of common
humanity. In hindsight, that moment just
may have helped to remove a measure of inner bias toward all humanity.
- Pete
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