Under the Big Top # 36: “Eye Opening Experiences”

(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)

Song: “Bargain”
Album: Who’s Next
Release Date: August, 1971

I’m not much of a drummer guy:  Most of the time I cannot distinguish average from very good (sorry, Stuart Copeland, Neil Peart, Jim Keltner, and good friends Pete and Jeff).   But Keith Moon was so unusually good that he broke through that mental barrier of mine.  I suppose his drumming equates to reading Shakespeare, or watching Bobby Orr or Charlie Chaplin:  Some individuals just stand out, no matter how ambivalent you may be in regards to their profession. Moon was one of them.

Keith Moon was so mesmerizingly unique, that the camera would inevitably be drawn to him, despite the fact that each of his band mates matched his amazing showmanship.  Cameras rarely get drawn to the drummer and for it to happen in a band like The Who made his drawing power even more implausible. As the title of this series infers, The Who were like a 4-ring circus, often competing with one another for center stage.  I’ve never seen this in any other band.  Nobody comes close, as with most bands it’s one, maybe two individuals that demand all the attention.  What Moon did more than anything though, was he took a very good band and made it an exceptional band. 

In appreciation of ‘Moon the Loon’ and his amazing abilities as a percussionist, I’ve decided with this entry to reflect on a number of the eye opening experiences I’ve had in my life and the people who initiated them, many of whom I’ve knows personally, but others like Moon, whom I have not.  I’d like to think these reflections contribute to the general overall focus of this blog site, which is to expound on what it was like to be a kid who grew up in the 70s and then went on to take that experience into his adulthood.  In other words, a number of experiences listed below are of the period-piece variety (my period piece). 

First however, I would be remiss to delve into these enlightening individuals without acknowledging the overarching reasons for why I am even able to connect with such a broad range of experiences; those reasons being Mom, Dad, Nancy, my family and friends, and of course the Lord above.  Their hands are in all of this!  With that said, here goes:

Faith:  My Aunt Ginger, aka Sister Virginia Smith.  Many of us are a bit confused with our Faith as young adults.  I believe Ginger was always aware of this.  When I worked a college-year summer as a landscaper at the Dominican Center in Plainville, Massachusetts where my Aunt planned adult retreats, we would sit together for lunch and have deep discussions about our lives.  During these conversations Ginger weaved in the importance of faith into most any topic.  What really lured me in though was my aunt’s fascination in my input, which came through in a very real and loving way.

Geography: My eyes were opened to my God-given ability to navigate the world when Dad saw this talent in me while we were on family road trips, and in turn would have me map out ways to get him from Point A to Point B (I particularly remember connecting the dots on rural roads between Toronto and Ottawa at the age of 17).  This seed eventually lead to my career as a GIS Specialist in the US Geological Survey, a job I feel blessed to have landed.  We all have natural abilities, so difficult to tease out in this day and age.  Native Americans would recognize these abilities (i.e. scout, hunter, tracker, animal interpreter, medicine man) in their children however, because they all grew up in the natural world.  Dad (and very likely Mom too) overcame my less-than-complete natural environment (and theirs) to somehow recognize the geographer in me.

History: Dad again, who nurtured my interest in American History with books and magazine subscriptions (Smithsonian for example).  Also friend John Roche, who was as avid of a World War II buff as I was.  Dr. Dan Connerton was my favorite history teacher in North Adams (History was my major).  He brought out the best in my ability to think independently and in turn write a good essay when called upon (if I must say so myself). 

Rock and Roll:  Believe it or not, it started with Mom and Dad and their purchase of The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper and compilation Red and Blue albums. Later, great friend Mac opened my eyes to the deeper-cut Beatles records and then helped me to see Rock and Roll talent beyond them (which was just as important).  Mac is also my concert-attendance soul mate.  Good friend and former colleague Jeff Strause broadened my horizons in music as well, most significantly in the folk scene.

Competitive Spirit: I have always been competitive, but great-friend Dave raised that bar a few notches.  For several years in my early 20s it was all about challenge, be it in a game of Risk, Stratego, ping pong, pool, darts, or any number of card games.  Dave was a formidable adversary, routinely standing strong between me and victory in all these battles. 

The Natural World: Again Dad, pointing out Praying Mantises, Lady Slippers, and any other number of natural wonders while on hikes down the train tracks and other locales in Franklin when I was young.  Today I’d have to include my fellow water-quality volunteer, Suzanna Black, an avid plant identifier and bird-call specialist.  In terms of the professional naturalist: Natural History Magazine was a great read for many years and I believe it was due to the contributions of Stephen Jay Gould, who wrote 300 essays in its pages.  Gould’s musings were deep enough to challenge me, but not so deep as to lose me.  I’d also like to recognize here the writings of E.O. Wilson and the naturalist documentaries of David Attenborough. 

Taxonomy:  Mr. Wilk, my seventh-grade science teacher opened my mind up to the amazing diversity of animal life on the planet.  The Phylum level was what intrigued me the most, particularly the notion that most of the animals we are familiar with, vertebrates like us (fish, mammals, birds, reptiles, amphibians) are classified in but one of over 30 animal phylums and that the vast diversity of this life is in the ocean.  Mr. Wilk was the first teacher I ever had who came across as truly fascinated in what he was telling his students.  He’s the only teacher I ever stayed after school for to learn more.  Taxonomic classification continues to intrigue me, most recently through a hobby of photographing animals, plants and fungi in their natural habitat, identifying them, and recording it all in a homemade database. 

Programming: Former USGS colleague (and friend) Saiping, who showed me how writing code can enhance computer analysis and applications.  Later I would get pretty adept at cursors and ‘do loops’ and map algebra code and any number of other functions and directives, which sent my career in directions not possible otherwise. 

Batting in Baseball:  Friend Bruce Nicholson was an incredible athlete and our pick-up games of baseball were a great way for him to showcase his talent.  Bruce routinely hit balls over the fence at Dean Junior College (in this case the fence was a tennis court) and he could do this both as a lefty and righty.  In terms of professional baseball, Manny Ramirez certainly was eye opening.  Yes, I had observed many-a-great batters before Ramirez, including Carleton Fisk, Dwight Evans, Jim Rice, and Fred Lynn (particularly his astounding productivity in his rookie year).   But Manny Ramirez connected me with Dad’s musings of watching Ted Williams at the plate:  I finally got a chance to see what he was talking about.

Bass Guitar: Well, this is what makes the Who so special.  Not only did they open my eyes to the drums, but they did this as well with the bass.  If you become a Who fan, it’s just a matter of time before you recognize the incredible virtuosity of John Entwistle. Unlike the drums where I have not gained much insight beyond Keith Moon, I did go on from Entwistle to then be able to connect with great bass sounds produced by others including Paul McCartney, Bill Wyman, and Mike Mills.  But John Entwistle remains in a class by himself and he alone has inspired me to pick up the instrument.

Coaching:  In all the sports I played I unfortunately never had a great coach.  It wasn’t until Bill Belichick coached the Patriots that I got to see just how important this role could be (though I must say, Don Cherry intrigued me, but it was more related to his colorful personality than his actual coaching prowess).  When Belichick called for an intentional safety near the end of a 2003 game against the Denver Broncos (I recall getting why he was doing this before anyone else at the bar) I knew from then on he was playing chess when all other coaches were playing checkers.  Belichick is the main reason why it’s been so much fun being a Patriots fan for the past 15 years, despite his stoic nature (which I actually get a kick out of).

Football Player: Troy Brown was a tremendously versatile football player who should be inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame.  Like Manny Ramirez in hitting, Brown gave me insight into the extraordinary potential of a wide receiver.   Troy Brown was also a great punt returner and played cornerback.  Most important however, Brown was a smart heads up player (I recall him immediately trying to signal safety to the referees after the famous Ben Watson rundown and strip of Champ Baily in 2006 playoffs) and like Tom Brady, he played his best at the most crucial of times. 

Basketball Player:  Larry Bird was a man among boys.  And my goodness was he ever confident.  Does anyone recall his asking the other All Star 3-Point Competition players (ahead of time) which one of them was going to come in second?  Does anyone recall him telling Kevin McHale, after the latter scored a then Celtic record 56 points that he should have gotten 60 (Bird then went on to score 60 three nights later!)? Bird made you laugh out loud with some of the things he pulled off while on the court, especially with the game on the line.  Magic Johnson and Michael Jordan will always get more of the glory for their particular brand of artistry.  But make no mistake that despite being contemporaries; they learned from Bird what it took to be a winner. Lately I’ve been most inspired watching my son Peter play basketball at the high-school level. 

Running: Nancy is my inspiration here.  When we first dated I got to cheer her on at several road races and soon got the bug myself.  I ran off and on for years before finally committing to a 4 mile run every other day, which I have religiously stuck with for seven years now.  I got many of my original “Gem Video” blog ideas while running back in 2007, and continue to get light-bulb moments on my runs today (particularly during the toughest hill stretches).

Hiking:  Yup, Dad again.  Dad in turn credits Uncle Jim (Mom’s brother) who opened his eyes to the wonders of hiking Mount Washington and the other White Mountain High Peaks.  I’ve conquered many-a-mountain since those early years of hiking as a teen with Dad.  The enjoyment of it is a rare all-family bond activity with Peter, Charlotte, Nancy and I.

Painting:  Daughter Charlotte brings canvas to life!  I recall a colleague at work chuckling at one of her 3^rd grade works on my office wall:  A proud Dad and nothing more he surmised.  He could not have been more wrong.  I saw something early on, which is quite unlike me when it comes to the arts.  Like Pete Townshend, Charlotte is her own worst critic (a fellow tortured artist), despite the accolades she receives, including from those in the profession (she has never shown interest in making it a career herself however).  My favorite painting of Charlotte’s is of the tree house I built here in Pepperell (see below).  

Canada: This one I credit Mom for.  Mom’s lunch-time reflections of her Dad’s upbringing in Prince Edward Island were fascinating to me.  Canada was a dreamscape for me as a child and our forays to Ontario and Quebec later in my teen years were always rewarding, eventually leading to a Junior-year (exchange program) life-changing experience in Ottawa and innumerable excursions North of the border ever since. 

Camping: Nancy again.  One great thing about camping is the versatility it gives you on the road:  Usually there is no need to plan a destination ahead and so you can travel at your leisure, or deviate from the original intended path (which we did often on our Great Lakes, Newfoundland, and Cross Country trips).  The best thing about camping however has been seeing how it has made Peter and Charlotte such naturals in the woods. 

Back Packing:  Great friend Bob asked me to join him on backpack trip across Europe in the summer of ’86.  Europe was the continent of Bob’s upbringing and so I got the insiders view (which I would later fill Nancy in on during our follow-up trip in ’89).  Often at the end of long adventurous days, when I took that back pack off, I felt as if I could walk on air.

Wine:  I was strictly a beer consumer until Bob took me to the Bordeaux region of France.  We explored the wine cellars, purchased several bottles of the local red (along with bread and cheese) and climbed into a tower on the edge of a vineyard.  Somehow, the first sip was instant karma.

Hockey Player: Well, it goes without saying that Bobby Orr was the best I ever saw, but when I was at my best at understanding the game of hockey in the late 70s, the player who impressed me the most was Don Marcotte.  Today you could equate the play of Patrice Bergeron to Marcotte’s style, which is classic two-way hockey.  The Bruins did not have nearly the talent of the Montreal Canadians in those days, but it was that two-way team style, epitomized by Marcotte, that almost put the B’s over the top. 

River Systems: Long-standing colleague and friend Kernell is the inspiration here.  Early in my career at USGS, Kernell gave me a new way of looking at the landscape, not as one being broken up by roads, cities and political boundaries (states, towns, etc.), but one broken up by watersheds.  From there it was a progression of thought to the river systems within those watersheds; a headwaters-to-outlet view of the world (think a dendritic pattern like the silhouette of a tree).   Rivers soon became my favorite natural feature (see Big Top # 13).

The World Cup:  Friend Bob again.  We back-packed Europe together in ’86 and I got to see passion for sport in a way I had never experienced before or since.  We were always in the right place at the right time, including Denmark and Belgium for dramatic victories by the home teams.  The streets were filled with revelers that summer and televisions were often set up outside of pubs and cafes for anyone to stop and catch a moment of action.  Since then I’ve been hooked every four years.

Tide Pools: Cousin Peter Mello would always bring his buckets, nets and goggles on our treks to the beach when we were boys.  A quick swim would soon enough be followed by a short walk over to the tide pools, where we would spend the rest of our day exploring.  I marveled at the varieties of creatures, including shrimp, hermit crabs, jellies, sea stars, sand dollars, chitons, green crabs, mole crabs, lady crabs, rock crabs, spider crabs, eels, and varieties of fish.

Tree Houses: hmmm, this is a hard one.  Swiss Family Robinson?  Nahh…. not so much as childhood fascination in general.  I think I’ll take credit for this one. Eleven years ago I designed and built a tree house in the back yard that remains intact to this day (despite a neighbor’s prediction it would come tumbling down with the first wind storm).  It is one of my all-time favorite personal creations, as it took some ingenuity pull it off (with only branchless pine trees to work with, I had to come up with a design of moving parts on moving parts).  Again, Charlotte’s painting of the structure is below.


Logical Thinking: This goes back to a very young age, watching my brother Fred take care of his red tractor, along with witnessing his ability to build small toy car models from a variety of moving parts at our grandparents home in Falmouth (quicker and more inventive than the rest of us).  Fred's abilities have played out to the present day, be they manifested in carpentry or other types of construction, or by comprehending complex instructions to build most anything.  In turn I've been inspired to take on my own projects:  Rock walls, a wood shed, a large shed, a bench, along with assisting my Father-in-Law (who was another later inspiration in regards to logical thinking) to add an addition to my old home.

Homemade Fish Ponds:  Friend Bob’s ex-in-laws.  The wedding-rehearsal gathering in their back yard in Breda, Amsterdam was illuminating.  I could see that a focus on a natural wooded setting for your yard was a valid alternative from the standard, manicured lawn-encompassing setting.


Bridging Presumably-Disparate Worlds:  After we went off to college, childhood friend Mac bonded with my friends from North Adams and Canada, proving that you do not have to leave your youth behind when you move on in life.  Mac eventually proved to be the gage in determining if a new friend was a true friend (that is, if they could connect with Mac they had what it took).  Where Mac represents this bullet from a quantitative standpoint, cousin Becca and long-time friend Dave represent the ultimate bridge, meeting on a road trip to Canada that I pulled together and later getting married (see Big Top # 31).

** Everyone I am close to has brought something special and unique into my life, and so I consider this entry an open file, which I plan to add to after this Big Top series is over:  Maybe one per week thru 2017.

I was going to hold out with the majestic Who’s Next tune “Bargain” for a more spiritually-centered entry.  After all, this song is about Pete Townshend’s relationship with God.  But then I thought, ‘well hey, doesn’t the music speak for itself?’  The entire band seems touched by an angel.  Townshend’s guitar sound near the end is transcendent. John Entwistle’s midriff bass lines are complex and fluid.  Roger Daltrey’s vocals sound newly born.  And this may be Keith Moon’s best studio effort.  Was it all spurred by the beauty of the meaning?  I for one believe this to be the case (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cyv_65o1HDY).

The lyrics to “Bargain” include the classic line “In life, one and one don’t make two; one and one make one”.  These words are the bond of this entry.  After all, do not our inspirations tie us with those who inspire?

- Pete

Under the Big Top # 35: “Transition”

(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)

Song: “Outlive the Dinosaur”
Album: Psychoderelict
Release Date: June, 1993

It’s hard to absorb, but over the past 25 years, there have been only two full-fledged original studio albums behind which Pete Townshend was the creative spark.  The most recent was Endless Wire, the Who’s 11th original disc, which was released in 2006.  Before that, you have to go all the way back to 1993 and Townshend’s last solo album (to date….one can only hope); the sturdy, ambitious Psychoderelict.  That concept album was a failure in terms of record sales, not quite breaking the 200,000 mark upon release (the record company was anticipating 5 million in sales), and ultimately leading to Townshend’s decision to pull the plug on his solo-record contract and pretty much call it quits (which again remains the case to this day).  ** Side Note: from his own accounts, Pete Townshend continues to be prolific in writing and recording music in his home studio, he has just not released much of it.

I’d had fellow fans of Pete Townshend’s music (both solo and with the Who) to turn to for feedback my whole young life to that point, but when Psychoderelict came out, I felt that I was on my own for the first time.  Nobody I knew got into this album at all.  I recall raving about the first single “English Boy” to my brother Joe, and sensing ambivalence.  Others seemed stuck in the past:  Fellow Who-crazed friend Kurt was never really a Townshend-solo guy in the first place, but in the decade leading up to 1993 that was all you were going to get.  And on the theatrical tour that supported the Psychoderelict concept, I suffered the ignominy of listening to good friend Bouv shout out for older material during the performance of the new stuff. 

Psychoderelict was unique, but not that unique.  The music itself was sound, arguably Townshend’s most even-keeled effort since 1980’s Empty Glass.  No, there was something else going on with all the indifference, something more overarching, and I was beginning to realize that at least some of it had to do with the fact that many of us were moving on in our lives.  Transition was all around me.  Children were entering the picture.  Careers were being established. Expectations were being altered.  Personally, I was a year into my 30s and in another year I would be anticipating the birth of my first child.  Life was getting serious.  In comparison, what was the big deal with another Pete Townshend album anyway?  There was a strong sense that everyone was putting the Rock and Roll world behind them, at least at the level of intensity we had been accustomed to when it came to the excitement generated upon the new release from a top-tier talent. 

Don’t get me wrong… I can fully understand these developments:  It’s all an important part of what life is all about.  But still, it was a hard pill to swallow at the time.  There are interesting periods in our lives where we have to weigh our practical selves against our creative, artistic selves.  This was one of those periods.  For me this clash of thinking has always posed questions: What do you do to adapt to societies norms while at the same time try and maintain a spirit of cutting-edge imagination?  What do you do to be a breadwinner in a job market of restricted options, while at the same time maintain your integrity?  How do you keep an open mind in a sea of conformity that is often ready to marginalize us unless we go along with the majority ways of thinking?

This just happened to be the initial dilemma facing the Psychoderelict lead character, Ray High (a combination/twist on Ray Davies and Nick Lowe’s namesakes to honor their deep-thinking reputation as British Rock musicians; a trait Townshend succeeded to emulate in the Ray High character).  Perhaps the album and its concepts were a big reason for my feeling the way I did at the time (but if so I did not make that connection right off since the concept was initially of less interest to me than the music itself).  Anyhow as the story unfolds, Ray High confronts his post-stardom reclusiveness after his manager tells him he’s matured (“I’m not mature, I’m just derelict!” High retorts, hence the album’s title).  From there it’s a myriad of the same middle-aged emotions many of us grapple with.  Yes, in typically insightful fashion, Pete Townshend was once again relating to his audience’s emotions by connecting with where we were at that stage in our lives.

What emotions you ask?  Well, there’s “I Am Afraid”, which soberly confronts our inability to change even when we know the effect of our lifestyle is not good for those around us (in an interview years after the release of Psychoderelict discussing this song, Townshend used the example of how he enabled Keith Moon’s self-destructive behavior despite feeling a strong sense that his life-of-the-party bandmate was not long for this world.  He also has discussed the song in the context of the effect we have on our children when we raise them during a period of self-abuse).  There’s “English Boy”, which is about the negative effect we can have when we point fingers at other easy targets (in this case older Brits calling out the younger generation of boys) when it’s more appropriate to look in the mirror.  “Let’s Get Pretentious” is about the importance of taking risks, even in the face of ridicule.  “Early Morning Dreams” tackles how difficult it is (if not impossible) to go back to something we started (and abandoned) at a younger age, in the hope of giving it new life.  “Now and Then” on the surface appears to be about falling in love with someone you just met, but a deeper meaning is the ruinous effect that cheating can have on your family.  Underlying it all is the effect of fast paced change in the modern world.

All heady stuff and it pointed me to another related reason why Psychoderelict did not make as big of a splash as had been hoped:  This was the first album in Pete Townshend’s career that was virtually devoid of innocence.  Yes, Townshend had always been serious, but that often came with a sense that what he was experiencing was fairly new to him.  In Psychoderelict, it was clear that this man had been around the block a few times.  Those of us who were willing to weave through this sad but familiar reality were in a position to conclude that at least Pete Townshend was not afraid to admit it.  And so we could relate more to his post-release comments about what he was really searching for in this album:  A core truth that Townshend felt was insidiously vulnerable in that aforementioned new age of rapid change and access, personified in the internet.

I believe we all look for innocent, fresh thoughts in the artists we turn to.  It’s invigorating and hopeful.  When a musician gets heavier and heavier in their lyrics, they risk losing all but their most empathetic audience (Bob Dylan being a rare exception).  But there is no other option for a true artist:  They have to follow the truth!  Otherwise they lose their artistic creativity.  In the end, it’s more important to avoid at all costs losing your artistry than to lose your audience.  Pete Townshend has always made the right choice in this regard; often at the expense of his own dignity (which is the key reason why I find his music so appealing).  And he has followed that path to the present, in the end (at least up until now) acknowledging that when the response became placid, it was time to internalize. 

A lot of big ideas are fleshed out in Psychoderelict.  The basic premise revolves around the stereotypical personality traits of the three primary characters; 1) the already-discussed serious musician Ray High 2) his shallow, money-grubbing (albeit loyal) manager, Rastus, and 3) Ruth Streeting, a confrontational DJ who is an outspoken critic of High.  These three characters never sing, rather they narrate in the middle of and between songs (much like Neil Young’s Greendale tour which came later, actors played their parts on stage during the tour that followed the album’s release, which was intriguing to watch).  Ray High is ‘tricked’ by Streeting into coming out of semi-retirement in order to help a young artist who writes to him for guidance (in actuality it’s Streeting in disguise).  Interspersed throughout the story are reflections into Ray High’s earlier aborted opus, Grid Life, which was never released because it was too ambitious for anyone but the author to get (this is where the internet angle gets fleshed out some).  Similarities to Townshend’s Lifehouse failure (see Big Top # 7) are unmistakable (some of that music is used) but the depth and complexity of the Psychoderelict concept overcome this otherwise eyebrow-raising obvious connection. 

A minor negative aspect of Pete Townshend’s legacy will likely be his at-times-failed attempts to conquer the grandiose.  Townshend can tend to stick with something BIG and personally interesting until either he masters it or it masters him.  One thing I’ve learned in my middle-age is that people are more fascinated with who you are than what you are interested in.  In other words, what got you to who you are is of less interest to your loved ones than where it got you.  Friends and family like the results more than the path to those results.  This is what keeps us humble.  It’s all good. 

Psychoderelict may have been that reality check for Pete Townshend (although the concept gives you the odd sense he knew it all along).  If it was his last solo effort, it was apropos though; a multi-tiered thinking man’s rock album.  Ideas hit you on the first listen and then new ones hit you on the second listen, and so on.  Isn’t that what great music is supposed to be all about? 

I close this entry with this week’s inspirational song source: “Outlive the Dinosaur” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iUyPnh7jMNw).  To me, this tune is a clarification of one of Townshend’s most renowned anthems: “I hope I die before I get old” from “My Generation”.  These lyrics have always been misinterpreted as old age associated with a number.   Are we old when we are 60? 70? 80?  The real meaning is not age per se.  It’s about staying one step ahead of the demon dinosaur in us all.  And we can only conquer it by staying honest to ourselves.  Pete Townshend has made it into his 70s.  Some would think that in doing so he failed that early anthem. Those of us who have listened to his music through to today, including Pschoderelict, know different.

- Pete

Under the Big Top # 34: “Rising to the Occasion”

(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)

Song: “See Me Feel Me/Listening To You”
Album: Tommy
Release Date: May, 1969

This past week was the 48^th Anniversary of Woodstock; the three-day music festival which was by most accounts a monumental watershed moment, as is evident in its being included in virtually every 20^th century American history documentary known. Everyone has an opinion about Woodstock, with most views slotted at the far left of the spectrum (the epitome of the ‘Age of Aquarius’) or the far right end of the spectrum (a decrepit hippie drug fest).  It could be argued that, given the Nixonian reaction soon after to the entire hippie subculture (the Kent State killings for example) and the escalating rift between left and right ever since, this singular event may likely have been the catalyst for the intense political polarization that exists to this day, both here in the USA and in other parts of the Western World.

Contrary to his inharmonious view of the multitude of Who shows that most others who were there rave about, Pete Townshend has always been pleased with the band’s performance at Woodstock, particularly his and Roger Daltrey’s contributions.  But for many years, Townshend’s views of the event in general had fallen more in the right-leaning camp (“I hated it” he once said about the experience).  By 1998 however, Pete Townshend started sounding a bit more objective about Woodstock.  That was the year he did a mini solo-tour (just three shows in the States) with a number of musicians from his mid-80s “Deep End” band (see Under the Big Top # 30), which centered on an appearance at “A Day In the Garden: Woodstock” on August 15^th at the original Max Yasgur’s Farm locale, along with other musicians from the ’69 event including Melanie, Richie Havens and Ten Years After.

One of the three shows Townshend and his band performed was a warm-up gig the night before the Woodstock anniversary show, which was at Boston’s Harborlights Pavilion (the third show was a benefit for Maryville Academy at Chicago’s House of Blues, which was filmed and put to record).  I was there in Boston, along with Nancy, Becca, Dave, Mac and Bouv.  It was a rare treat for any Who fan to witness a Pete Townshend solo show.  The band opened up with an original Woodstock classic, Canned Heat’s “On the Road Again” (they would later in the set add that band’s other Woodstock hit, “Going Up the Country”).  It was strange hearing Townshend sing in that offbeat high-tenor style of Canned Heat’s then lead singer Alan Wilson (who died the year after the original Woodstock of ‘acute barbiturate intoxication’ at the rock-cursed age of 27; two weeks before Jimi Hendrix and four weeks before Janis Joplin).  But he pulled it off as the show captured a spirit from the past that even those of us who were not there in ’69 could feel.

What also worked were Pete Townshend’s in-between-song reflections of the event that launched the Who into what remains a very small circle of superstar rock immortals.  His mixed feelings came through loud and clear that evening, but at least they were mixed and not his utterly negative reflections to that point.  It was clear Townshend had thought quite a bit about what the original event meant to him leading up to that 29^th Anniversary evening.  His past thoughts that Woodstock was just a teenage wasteland had now rounded out some (just listen to the Who song “Cry If You Want” off 1982’s It’s Hard for a taste of how he felt about the hippie movement in the decades following the 60s). 

It’s taken me some time to understand Pete Townshend’s original viewpoints, but now I think I get it.  Tommy was just released at the time and the Who performed much of it that pre-dawn morning (most of their set was in the dark; onto the stage at 5 am and off not long after the sun rose on the 3^rd day).  Tommy has plenty of spiritual undertones, and Townshend was then deeply into a personal faith journey, in part due to his intense effort in putting the story of the deaf dumb and blind boy to life.   Pete Townshend made many observations prior to the Who’s set that nite, walking among the crowd and the like to see if the mood was appropriately similar to his, especially considering the peace-centric promotion of the event.  He was disappointed for the most part, seeing that the crowd appeared to be agnostic to what could have been a group spiritual quest:  A sacrosanct Tommy-like moment lost. 

And so at the Boston Harborlights Pavilion time appeared to have softened this view, with Townshend acknowledging who was he to judge the motivations of others who were there.  Perhaps many in that massive crowd were on a quest with him after all.

Pete Townshend has been quite outspoken over the years about the fact that much of what the Who have done throughout their history is in action/reaction to their audience, which would include at times mirroring what they observed in the crowd.  Many of their early stage moves for example were simply aping their Mod-audience’s dances, which would evolve nightly.  A core part of the Quadrophenia concept album was based on the personalities of the Who from the perspective of the stories central character, Jimmy.  And then there’s the title of the album Who Are You, which has no question mark (as originally noted by the great music writer/editor Matt Resinicoff) suggesting, if you know the lyrics, a strong tie between the Who and their fans (see Big Top # 10). 

When Pete Townshend wrote the Tommy song “See Me Feel Me/Listening To You” he had this band/fan relationship in mind.  He saw Woodstock as the pen-ultimate moment to seize in this regard, and when all was said and done he was disillusioned.  But my goodness, did the Who ever do their part.  Each time I listen to their performance at Woodstock, particularly “Sparks”, “Pinball Wizard”, and “See Me Feel Me/Listening To You” I find it more awe-inspiring than the time before.  It’s one of those achievements where I can’t help but think that God himself guided the band’s performance to precisely the way it played out, if for no other reason than to reveal what humans are capable of when they form a four-piece rock band. 

I found a mesmerizingly fantastic version of the Woodstock footage of “See Me Feel Me/Listening To You” on YouTube, which includes the lead-in “We’re Not Gonna Take It” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IbaIB7rurys) (to jump right to “See Me….”, scroll to the 3:26 mark).  Here we see Roger Daltrey majestic in all his golden-Greek-god glory.  John Entwistle and Keith Moon did their inimitable rolls on bass and drums, Enty chiming in backing-vocal high-notes in earnest, spine-chilling fashion (very unusual to see the Ox appearing earnest, but he does here).  And Pete Townshend?  Well, he orchestrated the entire thing; his guitar playing otherworldly.  His stage act jaw dropping.  His focus; laser-beam intense.  Townshend’s guitar work starting at the 6:50 mark of the attached is border-line scary: A Godzilla-like sound (it also reminds me of the sound in  Saving Private Ryan when the German tanks roll into the destroyed French village then occupied by the small group of American soldiers).  If that did not wake up the remaining souls in the crowd that morning nothing would. 

The Greatest Live Rock Band ever at their utmost best on the ultimate stage.  Wow!

I played a bunch of Woodstock footage for my daughter Charlotte on Sunday.  Richie Havens intense improvised singing of “Freedom (Motherless Child)” to launch the event; Santana’s “Soul Sacrifice” (including the incredible Maichael Shrieve drum solo), the aforementioned Canned Heat songs, Jefferson Airplane’s “Somebody to Love” and “White Rabbit”; Joe Cocker interpreting in bluesy fashion the Beatles “With a Little Help from My Friends”,  Janis Joplin singing “Summertime”, Sly and the Family Stone’s “I Want To Take You Higher”, Country Joe McDonald’s “I’m-Fixin’-to-Die Rag” (anti-Vietnam War).  I could have gone on and on.  The totality of quality songs played that weekend is truly astounding.  But of all these songs and acts, it’s the Who that appear to have played their best at the perfect time.  And I believe they gave Woodstock that bit of hard-edge that it needed to fully legitimize it, separating it from your standard folk festival.

Charlotte asked me if I wished that I had been at Woodstock.  Well, I was 6 years old, not quite ready for Prime Time, but I know she means.  I’ve been to my share of festivals.  I know the aura they can give when done right:  There can be a certain type of community feeling that you simply do not get anywhere else; particularly at the multi-day/night events when you get to hang around fires, converse and sing late into the evening with people you have only just then met.  Woodstock was special because it was the first and because it was the biggest (at least half a million people if not double that) ,and because it drew together an amazing and eclectic group of musicians together, like no other event has done since.  So yes, I would have liked to have been there, and so would millions of others.  A parade of Altamont’s and Watkins Glen’s and Isle of Wight’s would never be able emulate what that first big festival event accomplished.

It would have been all in vein however if I missed that 5 am Who set.  I’d like to think that if I were there and in the right place as Pete Townshend was roaming through the crowd earlier that night that that I’d have given him a sense that at least some of us were there to deliver the promise of what Woodstock was supposed to mean to all of us.  In terms of how the Who performed, I don’t think it would have mattered much at the time:  They were flawless.  But who knows how things would have played out if Townshend came away from Woodstock with a positive attitude.  Maybe the Lifehouse project would have come together.  Maybe the Who would have gone to India and then recorded their own version of “The White Album”.  Or maybe the Who would have disbanded:  Pete Townshend going on a spiritual retreat from life in the public eye and then never returning.

As for the me that never was, the me that Charlotte conjured inside myself as wishing he was there? Well, hopefully I would have been ‘in the moment’ and taken in that Who’s set with awe-inspiring abandon, realizing it was all a two-way street as I absorbed the lyrics to “Listening to You” (below) and possibly even realizing later that I may have had an affirmative effect on Pete Townshend in that chance encounter in the fields.

Listening to you I get the music.
Gazing at you I get the heat.
Following you I climb the mountain.
I get excitement at your feet.

Right behind you I see the millions.
On you I see the glory.
From you I get opinions.
From you I get the story.

- Pete

Under the Big Top # 33: “Pop Art”

(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)

Song: “Magic Bus”
Album: Released as a single
Release Date: September, 1968

About two months ago, I made an effort to explain my appreciation of the Who to Cousin Jack (after great feedback from him about The Kids Are Alright film where he brought up Ringo’s promotion for the movie; the Beatles drummer sitting sternly in an armchair stating “Hello children….you know who I am…. I know who you are….but we all know who The Who are!”).  I put it this way to Jack: “You know, in those days (the mid-70s’) we were all about Red Sox, Bruins, Lost in Space and Wacky Packs.  I look at the Who as simply an extension of all that.” Since then I’ve been meaning to expound upon just what I meant by that comment.  Now is the time. 

Jack’s reminder of the Ringo promotion was the catalyst for that specific reply by me.  There are several reasons for this.  First off, Jack and I were products of our times.  We had what could best be defined as pop sensibilities. The term ‘pop’ is simply an abbreviated term for ‘popular’, and in the context of ‘pop art’ it is having an affinity, maybe even a fascination, with mainstream (as opposed to elitist) art and culture.  Many in prior generations found this a bit odd (including my Dad).  Their appreciation for the upper-crust things in life; classical music and books, traditional art galleries, powerful historical figures, fine dining, Greek and Roman ruins and the like, was noble for sure, but these had taken a back seat for most of us baby boomers.  There was now brand new interest and insight into what was brilliant, sunny, cool and funny. 

There was and continues to be a significant visual aspect to pop art.  Makers of album covers, comic books, games, sunglasses, clothing, shoes, sitcoms, musical instruments, lunch boxes, you name it, all spruced up their acts after the advent of pop.  Heck, even sports cards got livelier in the 70s.  Perhaps this was simply an inevitable follow up after the dawn of color TV.  Who knows?  What I do know is that for Jack and I and many of our friends and family members, it was all borderline addictive. 

Rock and Roll has for many years fed off of this visual aspect of the pop phenomenon, starting with the psychedelia of the late 60s and never really abating much since.  And it was not just the aforementioned album covers.  It was also the stage acts, the personas, and the songwriting. Bands like the Kinks started writing about the average guy in songs like “Mr. Pleasant” and “Muswell Hillbilly”.  David Bowie and Elton John out flanked one another on a weekly basis with their garish stage acts.  The Rolling Stones built up an outsider tax-exile image in Southern France. It all factored in to what was accessible to the average guy and gal.

Of all the bands that capitalized on this pop culture, The Who took the cake.  They were, from my perspective, the most visual extension of my pop-generational mindset.  To use the analogy of this blog series, this band was the main act in the Big Top tent:  A rock and roll circus extravaganza!  There was so much going on in their 4-piece live act that it would often border on sensory overload.  With the Stones, you could focus on one instrument or another. With Neil Young and Crazy Horse, you could simply take in the totality of the sound. The Who?  Well, there was this powerful visual essence that went with the music.  There was Pete Townshend all over the stage, wind milling, strutting, hovering, sliding and spiritualizing.  There was John Entwistle, anchoring, thunder-fingering, harmonizing, focusing, and decompressing.  There was Keith Moon flailing, pacing, innovating, master-minding and intensifying.  There was Roger Daltrey, whirling, swirling, internalizing, prancing and encapsulating.  This was pop art in pure form:  It was incredible.

With this pop sensibility of my generation came a collector/hobbyist mentality as well.  Savvy promoters with a creative touch knew how to tap into my mass-appeal market.  We witnessed “collector’s additions” for just about anything. Even the prizes inside cereal boxes were fair game (see below).  It was a blast to strive for the complete set of anything (I don’t think I ever got there with any of my collections, but it was sure fun trying), and to understand the value of any particular item (often based on demand and quantity produced), and to trade with your friends. 

At the surface this all had an air of superficiality about it.  But there was something deeper going on.  All this stimulation led to personal creativity for many of us on the receiving end.  Our minds were opened up to out-of-the-box ways of thinking.  I’m not sure many of the synapsis in my brain would have ever been used without my pop-art interests.

With all this said I’d like to delve a bit into a big part of what made my adolescent world so fascinating.  Let me start with a gift I got under the Christmas tree when I was 5 years old.  It was a blue box of animals, each of them elastic-strung into their slots and labeled.  This collection was created with passion I am sure, as every detail of these animals was exquisite:  The sculpting (for lack of a better term, considering these were plastic molds), the painting (this was no shoddy rush job, as even the eyes were handled with care) the scale coordination (each animal was perfectly sized relative to the others).  This collection opened my eyes to the diversity of life on the planet.  Yes the standard creatures were there: Lions, giraffes, elephants, and zebras.  But there were also unusual animals that no one I knew had ever heard of: Tapirs and okapis, elands, spring bucks, anteaters, and ibex. 

When my parents received the package in the mail several days before Christmas, they spotted that the tiny platypus was missing.  They knew this bizarre creature would be a big hit with me and promptly contacted the toy store to inform them and ask what could be done.  On Christmas Eve, so the story goes, the duck-billed platypus arrived on Santa’s sleigh just in time to be tucked into its tiny slot beneath the elephants. 

No one else I knew had this animal collection.  Believe it or not, I still have a number of the figures from that set (alas, not the platypus, a victim of a neighborhood bully hurling all my animals into the woods).  I had hours and hours of fun with those animals, particularly with friend Phil, who concocted fantastical character development for every one of them (for example, the ibex was a detective who came to many of his insights by sticking his nose into the elephant’s ear).  

For years I’ve tried to track this “Britain’s LTD Animals” collection on the web.  I’ve found individual animals here and there, but never in that original blue box complete set.  Finally, just recently when I started compiling this entry, I checked again and found it!:

Next up: Battling Tops.  In this game (which I received as a gift when it came out in 1968) you would roll your Top in a string and prop it up into its fighting corner.  Then you would pull the string and go to battle:  Last man standing and spinning wins.  Often a Top would be knocked right out of the ring.  I include this game here because it has a pop art feel about it.  I loved the names of the tops: Hurricane Hank, Tricky Nicky, Dizzy Dan, Twirling Tim, Smarty Smitty, and Super Sam:

Ok, below is one of my favorite collections of all time:  Funny Fringes.  These were collected out of Kellogg’s Fruit Loops boxes.  My favorite was Sniffinge (middle top row) and then Snozinge (far right middle row).  I pictured these two as sort of Laurel (tall, lanky, goofy) and Hardy (short stumpy, gruff) friendship.  Fringe was their sidekick (top row second from left next to Sniffinge).  Phil gave him a sort of super power:  He could spit wood (I am laughing silly as I write this).  Other favorites included Spinge (bottom row middle), Twinge (bottom row left) and Puddinge (middle row middle). I had a toy convertible car that I could perfectly stuff them all into; so perfectly that I could tip the car upside down and none would fall out.  Sniffinge was at the wheel.  Snozinge road shotgun.  Believe it or not, I still have a few of these guys:

When Cousin Jack and I, (along with our brothers) stayed over Aunt Margaret’s home, she would surprise us with Monster Models to put together, including Frankenstein, the Wolfman, Dracula, Mummy, Creature From the Black Lagoon, the Phantom of the Opera, the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and the Forgotten Prisoner (this one Phil had at the entryway to his multi-roomed cellar, which scared the daylights out of you if you let your mind wander).  We would also pick these up at the very cool hobby shop in downtown Franklin.  Every one of these models had an expression of horror on their faces.  It made the experience of gluing them together and painting them all the more intense.  I have the Creature from the Black Lagoon propped up in the study of our home:

I mentioned sports cards earlier. The one collection that stands out the most for me was the Boston Bruins of 1971. This team was astounding, and brought me into the world of sports.  They had the top 4 point scorers in the league that year (and 7 of the top 10!) led by the best hockey player of all time, Bobby Orr.  And they were a marvel to watch (though in some ways they spoiled me).  I loved everything about this team and these cards, but for whatever reason that I can’t quite explain, it’s the background color (each team had its own color identity) that connects with me the most, which again has a sort of pop-art feel about it: 

Another type of collector card that was popular in Junior High School was Wacky Packages. These cards swept me into the wonderful alternate world of the bizarre and maybe even on their own, opened me up to non-conformity.  How?  Well, Wacky Packs gave me a bit of clairvoyance into contemplating the true meaning of success.  It was fun and insightful at the same time and included twists on common products such as “Blunder Bread”, “Chock Full of Nuts and Bolts” (the Heavily Coffee”), “Crust” (toothpaste), “Vile” soap, and so much more:

Comic books were a craze for me for about four years in the mid-70s.  Great friends, Bruce and Mac, along with me would go down to the Franklin News Store on Thursday’s and help unpackage the new shipments that arrived that day just to get our hands on them first.  The comic company of creative edginess in the 70s was Marvel (their competitor DC was so past their prime at the time – Batman, Superman, others – that we referred to the DC acronym as standing for “Dog Crap”).  Marvel comics worth reading in those years were the ones that had the best writers assigned to them.  These included the X-Men, the Avengers, the Defenders, the Amazing Spider Man, and the Incredible Hulk.  There was a lot of interesting character development (for example, Tony Stark, aka Iron Man, was an alcoholic who struggled mightily at times with his addiction and Wolverine was a not-so-nice team player on the X-Men) that would eventually play out nicely on film.  One thing that drew me into this world was the illustrations.  The detail could often be very dramatic and would contribute greatly to the storyline: 

Although not so much pop art (but still extremely visual), this entry would not be complete without mentioning coins.  My favorites were the pennies, nickels and dimes.  We (friends and family) collected coins in many ways, including by digging them up (using metal detectors) and as stocking stuffers.  The most creative way we collected however was to roll up the ones we already pored over and then exchange them for other rolls at downtown stores (the best to get were from old stores that had cash registers with rolls in the back that were not touched in decades!).  It was so much fun populating our coin books like this one below of Mercury Dimes:

Finally, there were the ’45 records and accompanying picture sleeves, particularly the Beatles, which in my late high school years ended up being the last collectible I ever really got into.  This was pop art in the hands of the musicians themselves.  To this day, I still love looking at these:

This week’s song is “Magic Bus” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bl9bvuAV-Ao) because along with the big top circus analogy, these two words capture the Who journey for me.  When played live, the song would often be stretched out into a jam, the Who often trying to flesh new sound for new material.  Pretty cool when you think about it:  The band riding the Magic Bus on stage in an effort to create and explore.  The song was a proverbial palette to work with.  You could go anywhere on the Magic Bus!

I recently read a Pete Townshend interview where he talked briefly about the uniqueness of Who fans (as opposed to fans of other bands).  He said something to the effect that we are a fascinating, creative bunch.  Good people, interesting, deep thinkers.  Having met many myself over the years, I have to agree.  I believe that this entry gets to the core of what Townshend meant:  The Who as a visceral product of their pop-culture times appealed to us fans in the same way that all the above products did.  And this appeal led to wonderful lives for many of us.  It complimented who we are, what our career choices were, how we committed ourselves to our families and our faith, how we took risks, how we reasoned, and how we opened our true selves up to those we love. 

- Pete