Under the Big Top # 11: “A Who Concert Review: The Last Who-rah”

(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)

Song: “Join Together”
Album: Non-album single
Release Date: June, 1972

It was about two years ago now when Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey sat with a reporter and talked about their pending 2015 “The Who hits 50” Anniversary Tour (which Townshend amended, pointing out a dormancy period in the 80s and 90s by stating “for 13 years the Who didn’t really exist, so we are really only 37”).  In the interview, Daltrey referred to the tour as the beginning of a long goodbye, insisting that this was it for world tours by emphasizing the physical toll it takes to do them.  I took this statement to heart.  And so when tickets went on sale and Mac snatched up six for a core group of us, I began to gear up for my final Who show, which was supposed to have happened last October at the Boston Garden (I remain in corporate-extension-name denial, so that’s what I still call the place).  It did not: A Roger Daltrey bout with Viral Meningitis being the culprit which, due to its severity, nearly turned my upcoming ‘Last Who-Rah’ experience into a chimera. 

In the end, it simply delayed what I now believe was the inevitable, which worked out nicely with this Big Top series as I was not quite ready to roll it out until this past January, several months after the original scheduled Boston event.  I say ‘worked out nicely’, because these past 10 weeks have been all I would have hoped for in regards to re-stirring those Who juices in my soul.  My thinking with all these blog series is that there are no guarantees that I will recapture my youthful fascination for any of the music I re-immerse myself into; at least to the degree that I can passionately write about it all, which to date includes year-long weekly-entry series on the Rolling Stones (2012), Neil Young (2014), and now the Who (not to mention the original 100-entry “Gem Video” series in 2007-08, which covered the gambit in terms of musicians).  Thankfully it all continues to click, making for ideal preparation for that Who show this past Monday evening.

Before I get into the actual concert review, I have to back up a tad to the beginning of my self-proclaimed ‘Last Who-Rah’ weekend.  I was getting ready to settle in for my typical Friday flexi-place work day at home when a monkey wrench was tossed into that plan.  A pickup truck careened off the road in front of the neighbor’s yard, took out the telephone poll (knocking out power in the neighborhood for the day), weaved across their yard and then ours, and finally crashed into a 25 foot blue spruce tree which Nancy and I had decorated all these years with Christmas lights.

The driver, whose truck was totaled, ended up without a scratch (thank goodness).  The spruce tree; well that was another matter.  At first it looked like the leaning Tower of Pisa (as the week progressed we got to see what will eventually happen to that Italian campanile, as the tree inched ever closer to the ground and now just about rests there).  When I arrived at the scene from a quick errand a few minutes after the accident (if it was a bit earlier, I would have seen it all play out before my eyes), I could not figure for the life of me how the pickup truck ended up where it did.  There were other trees between the spruce tree and the road that should have acted as a buffer, and the lilac bush directly behind it was unscathed too.  One of the emergency respondents later showed me what happened:  That amazing trail down deeper into our yard and then up again into the tree. 

We had decorated that blue spruce for 12 years.  After the first year I gave up taking down the upper lights and just left them there.  Every year we would add the lower lights and then I would close my eyes, plug in, and raise my head skyward.  Opening my eyes would unfailingly lead to the exclamation: “A Christmas Miracle!”  The upper lights remained working year after year. 

The tree was on its way out though.  The lower branches were dying annually by the bundle.  I tried to reassure the poor lady who hit it that this was meant to be; she had plenty of other things to worry about and I did not want to heap on that pile.

The most fascinating part of the event though was when I glanced up the yard after talking with the driver I saw what looked like a miniature spruce tree sticking out of the front lawn.  I put two-two together, and after glancing up at the top of the leaning Tower of Tree-sa, confirmed that it was the crown itself, which got lopped off the tree upon impact!  This was too much to ignore.  There was symbolism here.  I picked up the crown and brought it into our home, where we decorated it with Christmas lights for one last time.  Then I began to contemplate.

As the buildup to the ‘Last Who-Rah’ intensified thru Saturday and into Sunday, I could not shake the thought: Was all of this in any way symbolic of the pending show?  Well, I think so.  First off, like the Who concert I was about to see, this majestic tree went out with a bang after a longer-than-expected run.  During that run it glowed bright.  And, despite that bang of an ending, it landed on its feet.

The Who have always landed on their feet; the Pete Townshend leaps regularly ending upright; the Roger Daltrey microphone spins and Keith Moon drum-stick tosses routinely finding their way back into their deliverer’s hands.  But all great things must come to an end.  I mean, how long could I expect this to last anyway?  These shows are high octane and the remaining founding-members of the Who are now in their 70s.  Many of their fans, like myself, are in our 50s or older.  Forty years ago we would have all found this 50-year celebration a bit ludicrous, in similar fashion to what Mick Jagger was thinking in 1975 when he stated “I’d rather be dead than sing Satisfaction when I’m 45”.  45?  How about 72!

And yet, as with so many great Who-related shows I have attended over the years, I thoroughly enjoyed the concert I witnessed earlier this week, which reinvigorated me to continue to immerse myself into Who music for the remainder of 2016 with the intent of encapsulating the effect it has.  Still, as was the case when I first took in that fatally-struck spruce tree in my front yard last weekend, I’m ready for the end game.  Monday nite made this all plainly evident to me.

Ok, so the night itself.  It started at The Fours sports bar (upstairs), same locale where my bachelor party launched 25 years ago.  A great aspect of Who shows, as is the case with most any concert, is being surrounded by like-minded fans; a chance to get pumped up.  Occasionally there’s a surprise in the mix; an opportunity to talk to an enlightened stranger about his/her take on a given song or album, consequently expanding my Who horizons.  This was not to be this time around as there was simply too much of a need on my part to catch up with old friends who I have ventured to these concerts with on a regular basis. That personal ‘Who Crew’ on Monday evening, as with most Who shows, included cousin Becca, along with great friends Dave, Mac, and Kurt.  For this show we also had in our circle newcomer Mike Carney, a fellow Pepperellian whom I jam with in a “band” on occasion (“hackers” may be a more apt description, but hey, I speak for myself).  Mike fit right in as our group talked about all things Who, including past memories of shows.

When we got to our seats, I spotted a ~ 10-year old boy sitting with his Dad.  I leaned in and said “in twenty years you are going to look back and say to yourself ‘I got to see the Who!’ “.  His Dad smiled and enthusiastically shook my hand as the boy looked at me in awe.  I think I got him.  During the show I would occasionally glance over to see how he was enjoying the spectacle.  Based on those observations, I have no doubt he was.

Right off, there was definitely a warm-embrace feel from the men on the stage.  Boston has been an automatic destination for the Who over their many years of touring (including the old Boston Tea Party venue which they performed at in the late 60s), and as they looked out on the capacity crowd in front of them, you could just tell that this was a special city for the band.  There were a few comments made by Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend along these lines, but these were not needed really.  The emotion in the arena said everything.

I knew this concert was going to cover the breadth of the Who’s catalog; not a greatest hits thing per-se, but an attempt to touch on a bit of everything.  And so the familiar tunes were rolled out before us, cascading one to another, and in turn throwing that Who corner of my brain into overdrive.  What follows is the set list, one song at a time, along with that given songs date of release (always important for this History Major), and in parenthesis a handful of thoughts that were floating through my mind as I listened:

First up “Who Are You” - 1978 (“I just wrote about this one in Big Top # 10:  There’s enough written there to reflect on for the entire show, never mind one song. The ‘ooh wa ooh wa ooh wa ooh wa’…. interlude always evokes images of surf/beach-party films of the early 60s”).  Next up “The Seeker” – 1971 (“hey, I wrote about this one too – Big Top # 1.  As brother Fred pointed out in his feedback to that entry, the 2-3 second break in the middle of the song after ‘I’m a really desperate man’ is poignant.  They nailed it.  The band brought this one back from the dead on their last few tours”).   “The Kids are Alright” – 1965 (“This one reflects a 50 year celebration all on its own.  Zak Starkey sounds great, but the original extended recording is a true testament to the utter uniqueness of Keith Moon’s drumming.   Recall talking to Kurt before the show about the classic Who movie of the same name we watched together in that North Adams movie theater all those years ago, which had such an effect on me.  I've still got the poster from the broken glass case in front of the theatre").  “I Can See For Miles” - 1967 (“not sure if I have ever seen this song performed live; maybe a Daltrey solo show.  Never has been one of my favorites, but hey, not bad here! Wait, I wrote about this one too – Big Top # 5.  That’s 3 of 4 so far.   Recalling Townshend saying one time that this was the best pop songs he ever wrote”). 

Next on the docket was “My Generation” – 1965. (“this song is also 50 years old.  Pete Townshend could have died on stage if he was a bit closer to Moon’s exploding drum kit on the Smothers Brothers show.  Perhaps that’s what is planned here?  Man, what a way to go…. nope, not happening.”). “The Real Me” – 1973 (“thinking of the way I let Bec and Dave know that I secured Madison Square Garden tickets to see Quadrophenia in’96 - see Big Top # 9.  Nice Brighton England imagery on the big screen. The Who sound great”). “Pictures of Lily” - 1967 (“more great imagery on the big screen.  This song needs John Entwistle’s French horn for the ‘climax’ moment.  It’s too much of a key to leave it out.  Oh well.  Still, it’s a very nice chestnut to pull out of the war chest”).  “Behind Blue Eyes” - 1971 (“the crowd can never resist singing the refrain.  Neither can I.  I wonder how many of them know it’s an appeal to God?  I wonder how many of them know a lot of Townshend's songs are about faith and God?”).  “Bargain” - 1971 (“nice intro by Pete Townshend, stating this is one of his all-time favorites.  I am not surprised, though the Who don’t play it live as frequently as some of their more familiar hits.  The entire song is an open appeal to God. It sounds magnificent”).

Next up, “Join Together” - 1972 (“ok, I think I’m going to use this one for this week’s Big Top selection.  Yes, we are joining together with this band for one last time here. The Who are primarily known for their album oriented music, but their discography is flush with a multitude of singles that never made it onto original studio albums.  This is one of many.  Hmmm, I will have to roll out the excellent video that came out with the song for the blog - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_HDMCCLlGl4 -   which showcases that the band members were multi-instrumental, much like The Band.  I’ll also have to point out that I love in the video how Townshend, Daltrey, and Entwistle all roam out into the crowd near the end of the song.  Wonder if they will do it here <nope>”).

The Who then launched into “You Better You Bet” – 1981 (“I also covered this one – Big Top # 8; which in part recalls a cathartic moment at a Great Woods show years ago.  This song is one of many examples of how diverse the Who’s sound could be”). “I’m One” – 1973 (“a highlight of the evening’s festivities, despite the fact that it was a stripped down acoustic number sung by Townshend, who is carrying the show tonight.  He sounds better than he did 20 years ago”).  “The Rock” – 1973 (“wow, back to back highlights.  The most professional of musicians know how to build up a show.  Three keyboard players are paying off here.  I don’t want this song to end, but then again, I have to hit the head. In fact, I’ve had to hit the head for a while now. I’ll go right when the last chord it struck”).  “Love Reign O’er Me” – 1973 (“shoot, I should have known this song would follow on the heels of ‘The Rock’.  Gonna have to make this quick: Too many wonderful memories of this song to be staring at a urinal.  Glad to catch half the song in this runway.”).  “Eminence Front” – 1982 (“Yet another Big Top entry - # 3.  Pete is back singing lead and sounding great.  In fact, the whole band sounds great.  I forgot how well Simon Townshend – Pete’s biological brother, 15 years his younger – fits in.  Also, always have respected how bass man Pino Palladino, does not try to emulate The Ox’s sound.  Pino’s style works very well here.  Zak Starkey, as always, sounds sweet”). 

The Who wound down with a Tommy medley, including “Amazing Journey”, “Sparks”, “Pinball Wizard”, and “See Me, Feel Me” – 1969 (“I wonder if the Bird Man will come out ** back when the Who performed Tommy in 1969, Townshend would stick his arms out like a bird and hover over his reverb.  He stopped doing this for quite some time until more recently**.  Wait; there’s Bird Man!  Some of my favorite Entwistle backing vocals ever are on the live Woodstock version of “See Me, Feel Me”.  That’s not happening here.  I’ll have to try and cover it myself”).  The Who closed with two classics off of Who’s Next: “Baba O’Riley” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again” – 1971 (“Strobe lights in full bloom to great effect.  Still amazed at how the Who morphed into their super-band form in 1971.  It must have been from all that touring of Tommy – which works as a nice little insight here, having just heard that Tommy mini set”).

The band thanked the crowd and Roger Daltrey closed it all off with the declaration “Be Lucky!”  And then off they were, and off we were.  As was the case with the Rolling Stones two years ago (which was my 2^nd favorite Stones show of at least 8), I was both floored and inspired by what men can achieve in their 70s (which goes without saying for my Dad as well). 

A thank you to the Who, as well as my fellow Who fans and friends for a very memorable evening.

 - Pete

Under the Big Top # 10: “A Who Album Review: Who Are You”

(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)

Song: “Who Are You”
Album: Who Are You
Release Date: August, 1978

Who Are You is my favorite Who album.  There, I said it.  Why the defensive positioning? Well, this is far from your standard choice for the avid Who fan.  I would be willing to bet that if all Who aficionados were polled on what their favorite Who album was, a vast majority of the responses would fall into one of three bins:  Who’s Next, Live at Leeds or Quadrophenia.  These are certainly seminal albums; each one very hard to best.  But for reasons inexplicable to me until I gave it some serious contemplation, Who Are You knocks them all off the top of my personal Who-disc pinnacle.  In recognition, my blog entry this week is an album review that, in an unintended way (consciously anyhow), ends up fitting in nicely as a back-to-back with next week’s anticipated “A Who Concert Review: The Last WHO-rah!” (which will be following on the heels of my final attendance at a Who concert next Monday).  Anyhow, here is my attempt to explain the why, when, where, how, and WHO of all things Who Are You.

First a few related memories, since no album can rank at the top of a favorite list without a listen to it conjuring up highlight-reel moments from the past.  My initial memory of Who Are You as an album was listening to it in my Lincoln Mercury Capri about a year after it’s release with lifelong friends Mac and Dave in the parking lot down by our own version of “The Rock”, which was a frequent hangout locale for the old Franklin gang (before houses were built there).  The album was being played in its entirety on one of the local radio stations.  As it played through several of the deeper cuts, Mac and Dave, neither of whom tossed praise out lightly, commented on how good it sounded.  They were both a bit more familiar with the album than I at the time, so I just listened to the music and their commentary.  I was impressed on both accounts.  Not long after, Brother Joe (coincidentally?) bought me the album.

Another memory, a few years later, was also in a vehicle, this one a van belonging to another great friend Luc, who I met my junior year in Carleton University, Ottawa, Canada.  By this time I was well indoctrinated into the world of The Who and Who Are You.  Luc chauffeured an afternoon drive through Gatineau Park near Ottawa during one of many memorable trips north of the border.  Who Are You was blaring on the sound system as we wound our way through the hills and valleys.  The van was packed with Canadian and Stateside friends:  A never forgotten snap shot in time for me.

So, what is it about Who Are You that captures the imagination and has my ranking it so favorably?  This view, after all, is not shared by a majority of the rock critics who have reviewed the album over the years.  Most look at Who Are You as The Who on the way down from the heights of earlier success.  To me however, this linkage to past successes is at the core of why this is a great album.  Indeed, the Who were in the enviable position at this point in their history to capitalize on everything they had learned from that success.  All four charter band members were still on board (though not for much longer), which by 1978 was virtually unheard of for most 60’s bands.  Who Are You in other words, is an album that could only be produced by a band with that kind of experience in tow and as such comes across as an exceptionally rare type of ‘cherry on the top’; particularly for a band with the fragility of characters and interrelations that the Who had.  This is the bridge too far in 99.99% of history’s collaborative achievements. As such, I look at this album as a bonus prize of sorts, a treat (although I still harbor a longing of what could have been beyond that proverbial cherry on top), which comes through in the music big time.  And I’ve always been amazed most critics have overlooked this fact. 

In the history of rock music, there have been other bands poised to take advantage of past experiences and successes in preparation for a new album.  The difference between the Who and many of these other bands, however, was that the Who had not sold out (despite what the title of their 3rd studio album would declare) to the commercial tug and artistic lethargy that eventually comes with fame and fortune.  Personal follies aside, each member of the Who had all remained focused on what motivated them from the beginning - that being the music - allowing the creative process to kick in to higher gear one last time.

The remainder of this album review is broken down by band member, with a focus on what each of them brought to the table in the making of Who Are You:  Pete Townshend first, followed by John Entwistle (the Ox), Roger Daltrey, and Keith Moon. 

Pete Townshend:
Reflecting on the Who in the April, 2004 Rolling Stone issue “50 Greatest Artists of all Time”, Eddie Vedder states “What disturbs me about the Who is the way they smashed through every door of rock & roll, leaving rubble and not much else for the rest of us to lay claim to” (if the 2^nd part of this quote looks familiar, I thank you for noticing, as I also ended up using it in last week’s entry).  This was actually a concern of Pete Townshend’s in the making of Who Are You.  1978 was a period in rock music where the new punk movement was writing-off all music that preceded it….that is, all except the music of the Who.  Punks were embracing the Who, and Townshend hated it.  He wanted Punk and other new music genres to write off the Who as well.  Strictly speaking, Pete Townshend wished to be ‘rendered irrelevant’, believing this was the only way the new music scene could make a name for itself and maybe even rise above what had preceded it. 

This stance put Pete Townshend in a paradox.  Although he was ready to fall on his own sword, he continued to be driven by what kept him in the Who all along:  That the music of the band should be a reflection of their fan base; a mirror for fans to look at and connect with.  This inner drive required effort and creativity.  Townshend was walking a fine line, and came up with a unique solution to say the least: Write good music but cut it to shreds through the lyrics.  The tortured artist was at it again.

Five of the six songs credited to Townshend on Who Are You are about music: “New Song”, “Music Must Change”, “Sister Disco”, “Guitar and Pen” and the title track.  These songs are fascinating because they explore Townshend’s concerns regarding the need for music evolution head on through the lyrics.  In “New Song” (a brilliant tune written to Who fans) for instance, he writes:

“I write the same old song with a few new lines
And everybody wants to cheer it
I write the same old song you heard a few good times
Admit you really want to hear it”

Several of Townshend’s songs on Who Are You ended up too complex for the Who to ever consider performing them live.  My favorite song on the album, “Guitar and Pen” (which is actually about song writing) is the best example of this. It rolls from one phase to another, testing Daltrey’s singing and Townshend’s own phenomenal guitar playing to the hilt (his guitar bridge three quarters through the song emits a human emotion like few guitar phrases I have ever heard)  . “Guitar and Pen” is an absolutely brilliant illustration of how untouchable the Who could be when all the stars were aligned. 

Who Are You gives us hints of things to come for Pete Townshend.  One example is on “Music Must Change” where Roger Daltrey’s singing of the title at several points in the song is quickly followed up by Townshend’s oddity utterance “Chaaaaaange”; a tidbit of expression that would later sound routine on albums like All the Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes.  These one-time young rock and roll ears did not even hear the interjection upon my earliest listening to this song. 

Pete Townshend’s many contributions to “Sister Disco” are highlights as well.  The song describes a fictional meeting between hospital-bed dying “Disco” and her bedside visitor “Rock”, who promises to carry the torch forward, while in no way conceding that Disco contributed anything substantive to the progression of music.  Townshend sings the bridge…..

Bye, goodbye Sister Disco, now I go

I go where the music fits my soul
And I, I will never let go, I'll never let go
'Til the echo of the street fight has dissolved

….. and ends the song with an acoustic guitar solo, in the process making the song-story soulful.  “Sister Disco” was one of Roger Daltrey’s favorite songs to perform live, and I recall one time in Foxboro Stadium where he accompanied Pete Townshend at the base of the drum platform, both sitting down there as Townshend played those closing notes.  I got a kick out of it, having read earlier that Pete Townshend was in the know regarding Daltrey’s infatuation with the song (Townshend himself more matter-of-fact), and so chuckling to myself about what must have been going through Pete’s head as he plucked away on the strings and looked to his side.

John Entwistle:
Each member of the Who ended up the internal fan of the band at various times in its history.  During the making of Who Are You, it was Entwistle who appeared to play this role. The Ox put in the long hours in the studio, often sticking around well into the evening after everyone else retired for the day. He was ultimately responsible for putting the final touches on the product, a fine polishing that no one else could face, particularly Pete Townshend. 

John Entwistle, “the Ox”, is credited with writing three songs on the album: “905”, “Trick of the Light”, and “Had Enough”.  It was rare for Entwistle, the number two songwriter in the band, to get more than one song on a Who album.  But he pulled it off here partly because he allowed Roger Daltrey (as opposed to himself) to sing two of them:  “Trick of the Light” and “Had Enough”. This gave his songs more cohesion with the rest of the album.  Entwistle’s songs also connected, however, because they were very good.  The music and lyrics of “Had Enough” reach Townshend-ian proportions, and the song ranks among the best in the entire Who catalog.  Then there is “905”, where a passion comes through in the Ox’s singing that I can’t recall hearing in any of his earlier songs.  Just listen to how he delivers the bridge lines:

“I have a feeling deep inside that something is missing”
It’s a feeling in my soul and I can’t help wishing
That one day I’ll discover that we’re living a lie
And I’ll tell the whole world the reason why”

As always, John Entwistle’s bass playing on the entire album is superb.  One of the great things about Who music which is incomparable, is that you can listen to one song 4 times and enjoy it in at least 4 different ways, focusing on a different instrument each time.  On Who Are You this is particularly the case with “Sister Disco”, “New Song”, and “Had Enough”.  On all 3, the individual instruments (including vocals) shine, and the Ox’s bass playing is beyond textbook:  It’s unparalleled.

One final note about John Entwistle and his contributions to Who Are You: This was the last Who album where he would put a concerted effort into his backing vocals. One of the hidden gems of Who music was the backing vocals, particularly the low/high vocal range Entwistle was able to cover.  He stepped aside in the 80’s as the Who brought on more backing singers (while also admitting to the fact that his singing had lost its higher-end range).  It’s a shame this had to happen, as the Townshend/Entwistle backing vocal combination was a powerful one. But it’s there in all its glory on Who Are You (although the Who were already using some of that hired help at this stage).

Roger Daltrey:
Daltrey was always the sober member of the Who, which was needed more than ever during the making of Who Are You:  Moon, Townshend and Entwistle were all on personal collision courses at the time.  Daltrey would ultimately ride out the storm, but his deep passion for the band (likely deeper than anyone’s) was thoroughly challenged.  If a session slipped out of focus and into consumption-centric chaos, ‘Squire’ Daltrey was out the door, heading for the hills in a personal helicopter to regroup at his British country side manor (which included a man-made trout pond).

Roger Daltrey’s singing on the entire Who Are You album is, I believe, a continuation of an amazing streak that started with 1971’s Who’s Next.  Simply put, these are the vocals of a master craftsman.  For example, he is somehow able to sound like John Entwistle (at his best) as he sings Entwistle’s “Trick of the Light”.  Trick of the vocals is more like it.  On the other Entwistle song he sings, “Had Enough”, I love how, at the first of two instances where Daltrey sings “Here comes the end of the world….” (the other being the end of the song), he perfectly leads the Ox’s follow-up bass rumble both smoothly and transitionally. 

It’s often been said that a big reason for the success of the Who was that Pete Townshend found the voice for his music in the person of Roger Daltrey.  This is the album where I connect with those comments the most.  Daltrey shifts gears flawlessly from one emotion to another.  He actually makes himself sound like a booze hound on “New Song” (that “Woooo!” exclamation after “we get hung over but we always survive it” for example).  On “Guitar and Pen”, I love the part where he sneers “And she says that she’d like it ‘with more of a tune’ ”, as he reflects the character of an overly critical mother responding to her sons appeal to how she likes his songwriting (Townshend’s personal childhood playing out there).  In the same song, his lead up to and follow through of…..

But is that what you want, to be rich and be gone?
Could be there's just one thing left in the end
Your guitar and your pen!

….. is simply put, in the moment.

One of the amazing things about Roger Daltrey is related to the fact that he was not as gifted as the others.  However, through his love of the band, he was able to rise to their level.  Pete Townshend is a very gifted singer, and the Who could have been successful as a 3 piece, or simply brought on another vocalist.  Roger Daltrey had to make himself better than Townshend or any other potential Who front man in the singing department:  And boy did he ever.  If he had ended up having to write a resume though, a 3-word document would suffice: Who Are You.

Keith Moon:
Who Are You was Keith Moon’s swan song (overruling the ‘Not to be Taken Away’ declaration written on the chair he sat on for the album cover).  He would die of substance-abuse-related causes only several weeks after the album’s release.  One of the biggest issues that rock critics had with Who Are You was Moon’s drumming.  I’m not sure what they hear truthfully.  Perhaps there is an over-comparison to earlier Who albums.  What I hear though is ferociously good drumming, which remains uniquely identifiable to Keith Moon (the only drumming I could ever pick out of a crowd if I had to).

It’s well known, that it took the other members of the band a while to help Keith Moon get his legs back under him when they reconvened in the studio to produce Who Are You after several years of studio inactivity (Moon had let himself go in the interim).  Pete Townshend even reached a point where he had to threaten to replace Moon if he did not get his act together.  Of course, he knew this to be impossible, but Keith Moon left him no options.  Townshend and the rest of the band (including producer Glyn Johns) had to find some way to get Keith’s butt in gear. 

As it turned out, only one song, “Music Must Change” (which has a unique beat), ended up out of Keith Moon’s reach.  There is no drumming on this song (if you listen close on a good sound system, you can hear Pete Townshend’s miked and in-time footsteps in lieu of drums).  Other than that, I believe Moon went out with a bang (not a whimper) on Who Are You.

‘Moon the Loon’ was the Who’s secret weapon.  They were never the same again without him (although as discussed last week, the mid-90’s addition of Zak Starkey, Ringo’s son, was an unexpected positive jolt that brought some of the Moon magic back).  Considering his no-holds-barred approach to life, I find it both amazing and a blessing that Who Are You is a part of the Keith Moon discography.  I factor that thought into the equation with every listen.

OK, so up till now, I’ve said very little about the title track, which happens to be this week’s Big Top entry (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PdLIerfXuZ4). The becoming-legendary story behind the song goes that Pete Townshend, who had just received a very handsome royalty check, confronted two members of the punk band ‘The Sex Pisols’ at a nightclub.  He was disgusted they would even be seen in (what Townshend determined) an old-fart rockers nightclub ("11 hours in the Tin Pan, God there's got to be another way!".)  He proceeded to shout obscenities at them, then pulled out his royalty check and, standing on a table, ripped it up in front of them, yelling “Who Are You!” in the process. 

In the liner notes of the reissued album, Matt Resinicoff (a kindred spirit who gets it) writes “The Who knew that rock can’t peddle easy answers, but it can share the burdens of its listeners; remember, there is no question mark in the title of this recording.”

In other words, Who are You and You are Who!  Magnificent!

Who are You was released in the States on the occasion of my 16th birthday (8/25/78).  Several years later, it was a much needed 2nd wind for me in terms of enjoying Who music.  I was already a year or so into the band’s best known releases (Tommy, Who’s Next, The Kid’s Are Alright), but if this was going to continue, the lesser known albums needed to pull through.  They did, with Who Are You leading the charge.


This entry is for my Dad, who chants "Whooooooo Are You" better than anyone I know.

- Pete

Under the Big Top # 9: “A Symphony of Four”

(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)

Song: “The Punk Meets the Godfather”
Album: Quadrophenia
Release Date: October, 1973

If you have ever watched Amadeus, you will recall the sequence where Salieri, gasping in awe as he watches Mozart conduct his opera Marriage of Figaro, spies the Emperor yawning out of the corner of his eye.  Well, this and other scenes from the movie were some of the first thoughts that came to mind this past Sunday, not long after slipping disc one of Quadrophenia into my car’s CD player.  The parallels soon became obvious, and I honed in on this interrelationship with each replay of the Who’s most transcendent album.  And so, interjected into my entry this week will be some of the best Salieri (F. Murray Abraham) and Mozart (Tom Hulce) lines in Amadeus, all pertaining to Mozart’s music.  Hopefully the intimation will become evident.

Salieri: “And music, finished as no music is ever finished. Displace one note and there would be diminishment. Displace one phrase and the structure would fall!”

I can relate somewhat to the doomed Salieri, as I have often been transfixed by the great music of others, with Quadrophenia being the album that has probably caused this sensation the most (although I must say it is not my favorite Who album; that I will get to soon enough – and no, it’s not Tommy).  However, as was the case with Mozart’s best works at the time of their unveiling, where he would frequently run into public ambivalence (including the nodding-off emperor), Quadrophenia continues to fall short of what I believe to be its proper place in the grand pantheon of musical achievements.  Although the general reception has always been a rather positive one, a plethora of “Top List” snubs abound, including the otherwise exemplary musical reference book 1,000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die by Tom Moon (no relation to Keith as far as I know). Moon does recognize two Who albums, Tommy and Who’s Next, but the greatest of them all is left off the list. 

Salieri: “I think you overestimate our dear Viennese, my friend (Mozart). You know you didn't even give them a good *bang* at the end of songs, to let them know when to clap”

The Who’s Quadrophenia shares this frequent slight with Pink Floyd’s comparable opus The Wall.  I’ve heard all the criticism: Grandiose, too audacious, over ambitious, a “crisis of concept”.  Ah yes, the concept; as with all of Pete Townshend’s big ideas, it’s a bit complex.  On the surface, the storyline is pretty straightforward:  We are supposed to sympathize with the protagonist Jimmy, a young working class Brit just out of secondary school, with no plans to speak of and a series of monotonous jobs that scream conformity.  It’s a period piece, capturing the mod scene of mid-60s London (and Brighton on the southern coast of England, where Jimmy and his fellow mods would make motor bike forays to on long holiday weekends.  The entirety of sides 3 and 4 play out at this ocean-side resort town – Jimmy alone with his highly charged thoughts - propelling us to the climatic conclusion).  Mods were a subculture of the period and they spent all their money on GS Scooters, pills (uppers), clothes (“Zoot suit, white jacket with side vents 5 inches long”) and “hair cut neat”.   Jimmy is a compromised and lost soul for the most part, but the Who get us to relate to his plight through the music.  We feel his angst, his confusion, and ultimately his longing for something better. 

Mozart: “Come on now, be honest! Which one of you wouldn't rather listen to his hairdresser than Hercules? Or Horatius, or Orpheus... people so lofty they sound as if they shit marble!”

But there’s also this concept of four.  Jimmy suffers from “Quadrophenia” or schizophrenia compounded (Townshend later admitted he undermined the seriousness of the mental disorder by attempting to coin a seemingly more severe fictitious one).  Interwoven through the album are theme songs for the four members of the Who, reflecting each of Jimmy’s four “Quadrophenic” personas: Roger Daltrey as tough guy (“Helpless Dancer”), John Entwistle as romantic (“Is it me for a moment”), Keith Moon as bloody lunatic (“Bellboy”), and Pete Townshend as a beggar, a hypocrite (“Love Reign O’er Me”).   (* Side Note: I believe I covered the entire gambit of these personalities in one night at my bachelor party).  Then there was the quadrophonic sound, an early attempt at surround sound, with different acoustics coming out of four corners of the room based on speaker positioning.  There were plenty of sounds too, and not just the Who but also Townshend’s pre-recorded effects that kick in right out of the gate on “I Am the Sea” and connect the listener with the time period and the mood: Tea kettles, ocean, seagulls, rain, wind, train switchyards, a BBC news reporter, etc.

Mozart: “In a play if more than one person speaks at the same time, it’s just noise; no one can understand a word. But with opera, with music... with music you can have twenty individuals all talking at the same time, and it's not noise, it's a perfect harmony!”

And then there’s the music itself.  Great music can make any story profound (which has me believing that time will ultimately rectify and override the negative reviews and oversights of the past, which is already playing itself out).  Here we have a parade of individual and collective jaw-dropping contributions.  Quadrophenia gives us some of Pete Townshend’s most virtuoso guitar playing.  Quadrophenia gives us Roger Daltrey’s most majestic vocals.  Quadrophenia gives us some of the best bass (John Entwistle) and drums (Keith Moon) ever recorded.  Quadrophenia gives us this amazingly unique ability of the Who to switch off the lead instrument on a dime, and I’m not just talking lead guitar:  Drums take the lead at times and at other times the bass takes the lead (in both cases, this is pretty much unheard of beyond the realm of the Who).  This is Rock and Roll personified; a symphony of sound (including the Entwistle horns and Townshend strings) and done almost entirely by the four bandmates alone!  To these ears, Quadrophenia is your quintessential “stranded on a desert island” album (or Mars, where the Mark Watney character in The Martian book, which I am reading now, somehow endures despite being straddled with a bad collection of disco music).  Quadrophenia was what Eddie Vedder primarily was referring to when he honored the Who in a Rolling Stone Magazine 2004 article as “leaving rubble and not much else for the rest of us to lay claim to”.

Salieri: “It was clear to me that sound I had heard in the Archbishop's palace had been no accident. Here again was the very voice of God! I was staring through the cage of those meticulous ink-strokes at an absolute beauty”

I have loved Quadrophenia since the early 80s, but for well over a decade it was a pipe dream to think I would ever see this album performed live by the band that created it.  The first and only go-around for the Who in terms of a live tour of Quadrophenia was right after its release in 1973, and it was a borderline disaster, with synthesizer backing tapes failing and Pete Townshend railing.  The band eventually scrapped much of the album and replaced the deeper cuts with more standard pre-Quadrophenia fare.  Subsequently, the Who had moved on (and by the time I was enjoying this album they had for all intents and purposes, disbanded).  But for the fans, it was as if the band had given up on their magnum opus as a live act before ever really giving it a chance.  To top off the improbability of a reprise, Keith Moon was now dead!  There was simply no possibility that the Who could ever emulate his contributions in a way that would capture the lightning-in-a bottle aura of the studio effort.  Just no way!  Kenny Jones would not have been up to the task as Moon’s first replacement.  Neither would have Simon Phillips (although I do not want to take away from either of their talents, as each contributed in their own way to make those rarified Who tours in the 80s quite satisfying.  Yet neither had the ability or the hutzpah to pull off the Keith Moon organized-chaos style that would be essential to a live performance of Quadrophenia.  But for goodness sake, who could?). 

Salieri: “That was Mozart. That! That giggling dirty-minded creature I had just seen, crawling on the floor!”

It was this state of mind I was in when in 1996 the Who regrouped for the first time in seven years to perform Quadrophenia in its totality at the Prince’s Trust charity event in Hyde Park, London. Reviews were off the charts and included very promising commentary on the new drummer, Ringo’s boy Zak Starkey, who had his own style but sounded “not like his Dad, but like Keith Moon” (by some strange twist of fate, Zak’s lessons on the drums were taught to him by Moon and not the Fab Four drummer…..or at least the lessons he inherited). Not soon after Hyde Park, a six night residence at Madison Square Garden was announced.  This was exciting; a real happening.  I had to go.  The Manhattan-based Ticketmaster was inundated with calls upon the announcement.  No chance of getting through there.  Working off a little voice in my head (and perhaps a bit of desperation), I called Ticketmaster in Boston.  I got right through and with bated breath, asked if they had Madison Square Garden tickets.  They did!  I purchased 4 (there’s that number again) and quickly relayed the message to good friend Kurt, who did the same.

Salieri: “Through my influence, I saw to it Don Giovanni was played only five times in Vienna. But in secret, I went to every one of those five, worshipping sounds I alone seem to hear.”

Some of my favorite memories of that show were actually the lead up to it.  First off; it started sinking in pretty quickly that I was going to be hearing live rarities. I’ve always had a Who concert wish list: “Slip Kid”, “Daily Records”, “New Song” to name a few (which still remain on the docket).  There was a time when that concert wish list was much more expansive though, and included most of Quadrophenia: “Cut My Hair”, “The Punk Meets the Godfather”, “The Rock”, “Bell Boy”…. the list goes on.  Now we were going to see all these songs live, performed in their original conceptual order by the Who themselves!

Salieri: “The restored third act was bold, brilliant. The fourth... was astounding.”

Another great memory was when I reached out to Becca and Dave; my cousin and great friend.  When I got their voice mail, it popped in my head to leave a Who-type message without saying exactly what I had secured.  I imitated as best I could the entirety of the short opening track, “I Am the Sea”, ocean sound effects and all.  Timing was tricky and important, but I think I nailed it.  Becca called me back the next day at work before I had arrived, and left an ecstatic and moving reply.  I saved that message for years (until our phone system changed), replaying it on the occasion when I wanted to feel the moment again.

Salieri: “On the page it looked like nothing. The beginning simple, almost comic. Just a pulse. Bassoons and basset horns, like a rusty squeezebox. And then suddenly, high above it, an oboe. A single note, hanging there, unwavering. Until a clarinet took over and sweetened it into a phrase of such delight!”

And then there was the ride down to Manhattan (what is it about these New York excursions?), Dave driving with Becca in the front, Nancy and I in the back (we would meet the rest of the crew in Greenwich Village).  About half way thru Connecticut as we entered the gravitational pull of the Big Apple, Dave casually reached into a side compartment, slipped disk one of Quadrophenia out of its sleeve, and popped it into the his hi-fi player.  Then he turned up the volume….as in way up.  As in conversation-impossible up!  It was clearly time to get focused on the task at hand.  The remainder of the ride proved to be almost as intense as the real event later that evening.  Dave’s timing was impeccable; we sucked in the riveting sound of Quadrophenia all the way to the city.  The high-volume ride was also a reminder of many of our great road trip over the years, which at that stage in our lives were already beginning to thin out. 

Salieri: “This was no composition by a performing monkey! This was a music I'd never heard. Filled with such longing, such unfulfillable longing, it had me trembling.”

The concert itself was fantastic.  Zak Starkey played up to his billing.  I recall closing my eyes at one moment early in the show and feeling for the first time what a mid-70s Who show must have sounded like.  It was stunning.  John Entwistle’s bass playing was superb.  Roger Daltrey, sporting a mid-60s-style pop-art bull’s-eye eye-patch to cover a bad wound (courtesy of a Gary Glitter swinging microphone stand during rehearsals) was magnificent.  Pete Townshend was omnipresent.  Billy Idol, one of the “guest stars” strutted out to sing “Bell Boy” and, to my surprise, mastered it with the same Cockney-Accent-swagger that Keith Moon had done on the original (which, by the way, was a rare treat for Who fans; that being hearing the caterwauling Keith Moon singing a lead vocal).  Idol’s ad-lib “Fuckkkkkkkk iiiiiitttttttttt!!!” in mid-riff, to emphasize this pathetic moment in the story, hit me to the degree that, well…..that I remember it to this day. 

Mozart: “It's unbelievable; the director has actually torn up a huge section of my music. They say I have to rewrite the opera. But it's perfect as it is! I can't rewrite what's perfect!”

Other Who albums have been resurrected these past few months, but Quadrophenia was never that far away from the vest.  Like the Basement Tapes, Exile on Main Street, and All Things Must Pass, this album is always within arm’s reach.  It cuts across most of my own period-piece bonds: My “Brother Bouv” friendship, my Kurt friendship, and my Mac friendship; then, now and everywhere in between.  When I listen, it reinforces other more general bonds as well:  Dad’s spiritual quest, friend Bob’s wanderlust, friend Mac’s non-conformity, brother Fred’s soul searching, Nancy’s perfect honesty, friend Kurt’s passion for love, sister Amy’s connection with all that is awe-inspiring, Mom’s wonderful generosity.  It reinforces all of my personal bonds.

Salieri: “I heard the music of true forgiveness filling the theater; conferring on all who sat there, perfect absolution. God was singing through this little man to all the world, unstoppable”

I had to pick a song off of Quadrophenia for this week’s Big Top entry.  I thought long and hard and finally settled on “The Punk Meets the Godfather” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H1tFRmQuYWE ).  The song is one of many pivotal points in the storyline; keying in on the relationship between the supposedly learned rock star (ok, the Who) and an avid fan (Jimmy – the “Punk”) and it is one of a handful of moments in Quadrophenia where Jimmy reaches a point of disillusionment, recognized here by the rock star (“Godfather”) with Pete Townshend singing the key refrain:

I have to be careful not to preach
I can’t pretend that I can teach,
And yet I lived your future out
By pounding stages like a clown.

And on the dance floor broken glass,
And bloody faces slowly pass,
The numbered seats in empty rows,
It all belongs to me you know.

“The Punk Meets the Godfather” is the Who at their humble best.  It’s a perfect example of what distinguishes them from so many of their contemporaries and continues to send shivers down my spine with every listen.  It’s one of the many all-too critiqued loose ends to Quadrophenia, but that’s fine by me:  This allows us to stitch it all together ourselves.  Mozart himself was likely looking down with pride when this piece was composed. 

Mozart: “Forgive me, Majesty. I am a vulgar man! But I assure you, my music is not.”

When I purchased Quadrophenia all those years ago and began to realize its brilliance, I took all of it in, including the cover, the booklet, and the lengthy liner notes.  As I read those notes, I found myself just slightly off kilter with one aspect: The parental angle.  In contrast to Jimmy, I had a wonderful upbringing.  Would this be an irreconcilable breach in terms of my connecting with the concept?  When I reached the end, I got my answer:  “No one in this story is meant to represent anyone either living or dead, particularly not the Mum and Dad.  Our Mums and Dad are all very nice and live in bungalows which we bought for them in the Outer Hebrides)”. 

Just another fascinating piece of my relation to this album.

Replicating Mozart symphonies can be a challenge but because all notes are put to sheet in precise fashion, it’s proved to be doable.  Rock is different.  The best rock music is unrepeatable:  At least in this day and age.  Perhaps someone will figure it out another couple of hundred years down the road.  Replicating the spectacle of Quadrophenia will be a major challenge though.  Can it be done?  

I’m thinking that only Mozart (and maybe even Salieri) knows for sure.

- Pete