(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)
Song: “The Kids Are
Alright”
Album: My Generation
Release Date:
December, 1965
Of the eleven original studio albums the Who have
produced, there was only one that I never really gave a good listen to until
this year, that being the very first, 1965’s My Generation. The one solid
memory I have of this album is related to a show Mac and I went to in Boston
several nights after John Entwistle died, when one of the bands paying tribute
to the Ox performed My Generation
from beginning to end. Other than that singular
flashback, these blog insights and musings into my favorite band start off with
a pretty vacant black hole in terms of my connecting with the Who’s discography,
which is darn right mortifying to admit.
And yet, this actually falls right in line with my track
record (no pun intended given the name of the record company which the Who’s managers,
Chris Stamp and Kit Lambert founded subsequent to breaking from Decca not long after
My Generation was released; that
being “Track Records”). As with all
great 60s bands, including the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Kinks, Neil
Young, Van Morrison, and even Bob Dylan, I tend to shy away from the earliest
albums, which were typically out of the musician’s artistic control (read: At the mercy of the record labels and their
“under assistant West Coast promotion men”).
I also have a tendency to squirrel away a nugget or two for future
reference, no matter the hobby or interest, content in the knowledge that there
is always a treasure to dig up somewhere.
This is no longer the case with the Who:
All eleven chests of gemstones, pearls and nuggets have now been
unearthed.
This up-till-now omission in my immersion into the Who’s
discography has allowed for at least some song discovery this year, which is
refreshing (the same can be said for my Stepping
Stones and Forever Young series’). And I have to say that listening to the Who’s
inaugural studio album this week was definitely a more enjoyable experience
than listening to inaugural studio albums of those other prior mentioned 60s
musicians. Many critics think so too, as
My Generation has made its way onto a
handful of ‘top’ rock-album lists over the years (another reason to be
embarrassed), which can’t be said for the others.
It would be easy to say this album is top heavy with two
long-time Who classics “The Kids are Alright” and “My Generation”. These songs do sound quite different and significantly
more cutting edge when compared to the rest of the record, but we are not
talking here about a quantum leap in quality from the top to the bottom of this
oft-critiqued track list. Most of the
album is old-sound rhythm and blues, including two James Brown covers, which fit
Roger Daltrey’s tastes in those days, he being the undisputable band leader in
the early years. But there is flow here
that gives you a tiny bit of confidence that the record company knew what they
were doing, and gives you even more confidence in the Who themselves,
regardless of the fact that the band had yet to find their true sound on a
consistent basis.
A number of Who ingredients are there on My Generation however, albeit in
germination form, including their pop sensibilities (“Legal Matter”, “La-La-La-Lies”)
their jam extensions (“The Ox”), bass propulsion (including the first-ever rock
bass solo on “My Generation”, which would be Spinal Tap silly if this were not
John Entwistle), drum propulsion (“The Ox”, “The Kids Are Alright”) punk (the
title track – see the last blog entry), and the aforementioned rhythm and blues
(most everything else). There is even a
hint of the otherwise unique sound of their third album, The Who Sell Out, which was released two years later at the heart
of the psychedelic period (“Circles”). With
all this, one could make the argument that My
Generation is the Who at their most diverse.
Oh there is one other ingredient: Concept, or more
accurately the foundation of concept, in “The Kids Are Alright”. There is a lot going on here. “The Kids Are Alright” cuts to the very core
of the Who’s connection with their fan base. It is also the ground floor for
their seminal 1973 album Quadrophenia
(see Big Top # 9: “A Symphony of Four”), actually appearing briefly on that
album as the intro to “Is It in My Head?”.
Additionally, it’s the title of their unparalleled 1979 rocumentary,
which is what hooked me with this band in the first place (see Big Top # 2:
“The Awakening”). The key reason for
such prominence in the Who’s story (and ultimately their legacy) is that “The
Kids Are Alright” anticipates the band’s longevity through blood-brother-like
loyalty and camaraderie. As such it is
the mustard seed to all they would become.
The rest of this entry will try to flesh all this out.
On the surface, the lyrics to “The Kids Are Alright”
might just sound like a need to break free, on occasion, from family life; a
night on the town with your buddies. But
try to find a consistent meaning to this song on websites like SongMeanings and Songfacts, and you will find opinions all over the map. One says it’s about Roger Daltrey’s fragile
marital status at the time. Another says
it is an ode to the Who’s Mod following.
Another says it’s about our children.
The list goes on. To complicate
matters even further, Pete Townshend has added even more lyrics on recent
tours. I’ve seen and heard them, which
included a number of touching verses added in remembrance to John Entwistle
only weeks after his sudden death. And
he has also tied in the crowd with other lyrics, pointing out the family
relationships we all have and our connection with the Who as a sort-of family. The
fact of the matter is that “The Kids Are Alright” is an open-palette of a song
about dealing with life, which evolves and expands with time. And so, in some ways, everyone is correct.
The notion of “The Kids Are Alright” anticipating the
Who’s longevity is a fascinating one to me, not only because it appears to
envision the future at the beginning of their collaboration, but also because
it acts as a counterpoint to the title track.
“My Generation” is a declaration in the moment: “I hope I die before I get old” Roger Daltrey sneers, while
stuttering in high-strung, pill-popping Mod fashion throughout the song (pretty
impressive in its own write, considering Daltrey was the relative teetotaler of
the bunch). Teenagers and young adults
in general can relate to all of this.
Heck, a very good friend used to exclaim back in the ‘love lost so live
fast and die young’ day that he would be dead before he turned 30. Thankfully that prediction did not play
out.
Most future punk bands would stick a fork in it right
there, but not the Who. Where this band
closes side one with that youthful abandon in “My Generation” they open side two
with “The Kids Are Alright”; the title alone suggesting a yearning for
survival. What we see here are the two
extreme ends of the Who paradigm. It’s
almost as if Pete Townshend is saying “ok, yes we are going recklessly all out
here, but make no doubt we are committed to making this work”. It’s a conviction he shares with Neil Young,
but in Townshend’s case he’s trying to take his band and his fans along for the
ride. Unfortunately Keith Moon, John
Entwistle and many of those fans would ultimately overdo it with the “My
Generation” approach to life. But Pete
Townshend himself has overcome the Rock & Roll lifestyle odds (as has Roger
Daltrey in a different way, seeing as loyalty and dedication are key factors to
his personal rock and roll story that cannot be ignored)… or so one would be
lead to believe, unless you take this early anthem “The Kids Are Alright” into
account.
Pete Townshend is a unique soul. He is a loner, a solo artist at heart, who unconventionally
ended up in a gang that happened to be a band.
And he not only adopted this situation, he glorified it. I have no solid basis for the following, but
the more I listened to “The Kids Are Alright” this week, the more I could envision
Townshend breaking down each verse to the individual members of the Who and
their personal commitment to both the band and their own loved ones at the time. Toss into the mix that prior-mentioned
interpretation of the song as a dedication to their Mod followers in 1965, and
I can see how there could have been a very natural progression for Pete
Townshend when it came to conceptualizing Quadrophenia
(which hits on both these storylines).
This tug-of-war between punk immediacy and the type of
responsibility that comes with longevity plays out so wonderfully in the
rocumentary The Kids Are Alright too,
which may explain why this is my all-time favorite movie. When I watch it I get hit from two
directions: Capturing the moment on one
hand and loyalty/longevity on the other. Isn’t this balance what you hope to
pull off with your friends? The times I
remember watching this movie were all with great friends: That first viewing in North Adams with the “TH1-ers”
(Big Top # 2) was later followed by multiple viewings with the Franklin crew;
renting the video, along with other rock classics, to watch in friend Pete’s
attic. And then there was the midnight
Ottawa theatre viewing with Bob and other friends in ’82. I vividly recall walking out of that theatre in
the early morning as the closing number “Long Live Rock” blared in the
background. In all these cases, the memories
are surreal. I felt as if my friends and
I were at the center of the universe, fully understanding the meaning of
camaraderie like no one before us or since.
Yes, I believe I covered the gambit with my personal kids-are-alright
moments.
So I sit here in my Pepperell home on a rainy Friday
nite, not sure if I’ve even come close to articulating the meaning of “The Kids
Are Alright” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afam2nIae4o
). Then again, I don’t think anyone has,
including Pete Townshend, and I don’t think anyone ever will. I will close with this reflection: If there
is a ‘give’ in this two song tug-of-war, it’s on the “My Generation” side. I have always interpreted the lyrics “I hope I die before I get old” to mean
getting old mentally, not physically.
And so in my mind “My Generation” is a sheep in wolfs clothing. With this denouement “The Kids Are Alright”
wins, and explains how the overall story of the Who has played itself out, in
spite of their losses along the way, rather than the alternative version, which
has played out all too often with others.
- Pete
(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)
Song: “My Generation”
Album: My Generation
Release Date:
December, 1965
Rolling Stone Magazine did a nice cover story on the
Ramones a few weeks back. (** Side Note # 1:
I find it amazing that all four founding
members of the Ramones are dead: “The
Cover of Rolling Stone” has been sadly eulogistic these days with David Bowie
and Merle Haggard on other recent covers and now, Prince, in the mail just
yesterday). The issue included a
review and ranking of the top 40 Punk albums of all time, the Ramones taking
the top spot with their 1976 self-titled debut.
The #2 and #3 slots were predicable (The Clash’s 1977 self-titled debut
and the Sex Pistols Never Mind the
Bullocks), but there were some interesting choices further down the list,
including The Stooges, Devo, the New York Dolls, and Nirvana, none of whom are
considered primarily as Punk bands. That
was fine by me, seeing as each write-up made a valid argument for having the
given entry in the mix, including several as Punk inspirations.
The only problem was the inspirations did not go far back
enough. If they had, and were flexible
enough to recognize singular songs instead of just entire albums, the Who would
surely have been slotted in somewhere, considering their earliest chart entries
were truly proto-punk songs: “I Can’t Explain’’, “Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere”,
and “My Generation”. Yes, before this
band was anything, they were a Punk-like band; maybe even the first (the Kinks
could make this claim too). I realize
this probably does not impress many, but part of my job here is to make the
case for why this was a big deal. After
all, the Who’s punk origins made them immediately relevant (due to the novelty)
and is the key reason why this band will endure the test of time. I’m not just talking through our age. I’m talking Mozart-like endurance (the one
commonality of the bands I focus on in this blog series is this conviction). It’s pretty cool to realize something like this
at the time it is unfolding, and that you have personally witnessed such a
spectacle on numerous occasions.
If Punk itself was anything, it was liberating. Many Punk bands came from lower class
backgrounds, and the music was their ticket out of misery and conformity. Heck, even middle and upper class kids who
did not want to repeat the mistakes of their elders found solace in Punk, which
rebelled against the establishment. Punk
even rebelled against most of the Rock establishment that preceded it, seeing
as by the mid-70s many of those successful performers were slipping and sliding
into the same hedonistic trappings that fame had incurred on so many other
famous people before them. How do you
define Punk? How about “laying it all on
the line”; or “nothing to hide”; or “raw and unadulterated”; or “open
wound”. All these work. I was too young and honestly not angry enough
(thank goodness) to fully appreciate Punk when it erupted onto the scene. But I knew at the time that it was real (my first memory of Punk was actually a funny one, with the Sex Pistols just starting their singular disastrous USA tour, Dad walking in the house after work, looking over at Fred and I with a glimmer in his eye and blurting out "Johnny Rotten!")
The sad fact with many Punk bands however, was that they
did not last (fearing rust more than burnout perhaps) and more importantly,
they did not evolve. The Sex Pistols and
many others of their contemporaries were shooting stars. The latter-day Punk band Green Day
(recognized at # 18 on the Rolling Stone Punk list for 1994’s Dookie) is a rare exception. They took
their roots and stepped it up, ultimately producing the phenomenal Rock concept
album, American Idiot. One of the
incredible things about the Who is they did this too, only along a much longer
and diverse continuum. That proto-punk
foundation was a solid one; extremely important for setting the Who’s work
ethic and morality. And they capitalized
on it -- like no other band has since.
The Who’s Punk origins are captured in all its glory on
the 1970 Live at Leeds album, which
has consistently been rated as one of the best live Rock albums of all
time. Even the non-punk songs (in terms
of their original studio release sound and meaning) come across as Punk here. Funny thing was I did not pick up on the
potency of this album on the handful of times I first listened to the original compact
release. Some of this had to do with
live albums in general. I have forever
known the potency of live music, but I guess I had always just concluded that “you
had to be there”. On top of this, as I
have mentioned often before, I am an original-studio-album-oriented guy: Great studio albums lay out concepts whether
intentional or not, which I love to diagnose.
Also producers and engineers have the opportunity with studio albums to
perfect the sound. Live events make it
much more difficult, if not impossible, to capture and tinker with sound in
order to get the sought-after effect onto record. That was my thinking for many years.
But as music critic Tom Moon once stated, “The more you
love music, the more music you love”, and so it was really only a matter of
time before this one sunk in. The first
live recording I ever really connected with was Bob Dylan’s 1976 Hard Rain album with the Rolling Thunder
Review, which hit me many years after it should have. And I do recall the very moment the
planet’s aligned for me with Live at
Leeds – literally. I was sitting on
the deck at Mac’s Humarock cottage on a lovely starlit night about 10 years ago. Mac cranked up the album and I said to myself
“ok, I’m going to give this another go”.
I sat back and looked into the night sky. There to my left was Mars, and to my right
Venus. Together with my perception of
where Earth was in comparison, I could suddenly see the Solar System at play
(no, I was not stoned). And as this
image enveloped me, so too did Live at
Leeds. It was one of those glorious
moments that you hope can last forever.
Some of it was fleeting, as such moments certainly are, but other
aspects remain, including that then new found insight into the power of Live at Leeds.
Part of the insight I obtained that evening had to do
with how that 1970 concert on the West Yorkshire England campus of University
of Leeds (at the University Refectory) progressed. The original 6 song release of
Live at Leeds was a compilation of
highlights from the show. But in the
process of capturing highlights, the original release lost much of the flow and
buildup. Much like fireworks, amazing
live events have buildup, often reaching a grand finale. In the case of a concert however, it’s not so
much due to one final outburst as it is to a crescendo effect, or slow buildup. The first time I realized this as important
in a live event was when I went to see Richie Havens many years ago. The show
started off slow and tame, but as it went on I came to the realization that I
was slowly being reeled in, like a fish on a line. Not soon after I had the same experience at an
Arlo Guthrie show. Professional musicians are masters at this ability. The Who were among them. Recorded proof finally burst through with
later releases of Live at Leeds which
have included more and more of the set list. That evening in Humarock, Mac and
I were listening to the whole 33 song event. That Planet-aligning vision, coinciding
with my Live at Leeds eureka moment,
was no fluke: I was opening my eyes to a
gravitational pull on multiple fronts that night. (** Side Note # 2: Live at Leeds was the only live recording the Who released in Keith
Moon’s lifetime, which dumbfounds me knowing their top-notch reputation as a
live act).
Live at Leeds is a 4-man freak show. It borders on sensory overload. The Who had everything going for them that
evening (and many others), and were masterful on all accounts: Drums, guitar,
bass, lead and backing vocals. Although
the entirety of Live at Leeds is mind-numbingly good, I’ll cherry-pick out a
couple of highlights here. First, if I
had to introduce someone who was completely alien to the Who’s music to try and
define them, I might start with the Live
at Leeds version of “Happy Jack”, which captures all their energy and
potency in 3 minutes, and then I would compare it to the studio version. This live version somehow replicates note for
note the studio version, but in much more dynamic fashion because it is live. The
amazing thing about it is the studio version is by no means easy to replicate
(it actually sounds live itself), and everything seems to be moving at 78
RPM. But the Who pull it off. Keith Moon’s drumming is mesmerizing. Pete Townshend’s guitar work is majestic, as
is John Entwistle’s bass and Roger Daltrey’s lead vocals. Even the Townshend/Entwistle backing vocals
are spot-on stupendous. And it’s all note for note (most incredibly Moon’s
drums), syllable for syllable, and pitch for pitch (i.e. “lap, lap, lap”). My point
here is, even if you have never heard this song before, you could compare a
studio listen of “Happy Jack” to the live version and I believe you would be
astounded.
Other moments on Live
at Leeds are not so emulative. One
of them is “My Generation”, the second to last number played at Leeds, and this
week’s Big Top entry. “My Generation”
has been constantly tweaked in the Who’s live set throughout their 50-plus year
career. The version on “Live at Leeds”
is likely one of their longest, taking up most of side 2 of the original album
release (the only other song on side 2 was the encore, “Magic Bus”). Its proof that a Who extended jam could rival
anyone’s including the Allman Brothers and the Grateful Dead.
To witness the Who at their Punk best one only needs to
watch the opening scene to the movie The Kids are Alright (“My friends call me Keith you can call me
John”) which thankfully, Rolling Stone Magazine has posted on the web ( http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/flashback-the-who-blow-up-smothers-brothers-in-primetime-20160304
). It is a truly fascinating moment in
pop-music history, and one that no band will likely ever be able to get away
with again (for those who do not know what I am talking about, I’ll leave the
resolution to this anticipation up to the video link to showcase).
Years ago great friend Kurt posed the question to me “If
you had to choose any event to attend from the past, what would it be”? It’s a great question. I immediately rolled out a few concert
events, including Woodstock and the Neil Young Rust Never Sleeps tour. I
caught him by surprise, as he was thinking along the lines of sporting events
(Bobby Orr’s Stanley Cup winner for example).
But after hearing me out, he reconsidered. Anyhow, I’ve been thinking more about this
exchange all week as I listened to Live
at Leeds. No doubt I am adding it to my wish list. It really is a seminal recording and must have
been brilliant to have witnessed in the flesh.
I was once in the sensory-overload crowd with this album, but not
anymore. Through stars aligning, or
gravitational pull or luck or blessing or wisdom or a little of it all, I’ve
been transported to the other side.
I’ll close with a few images. The first is a poster that Madeline and Jeff
(who receive these weekly rants) presented to me on my 50th
birthday. It’s so punk, and so I
dedicate this entry to these two great friends.
The second photo is one of my all-time favorite Who photos which is a
caption in Richard Barnes sensational book The
Who: Maximum R & B. It’s another
punk moment I could not pass on adding here (note the action-reaction between
Pete Townshend and the preppy crowd). Finally,
I add those 4 recent Rolling Stone covers.
Let’s hope 2016 is done with taking away some of the great musicians of
our time.
- Pete
(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)
Song: “Mike Post Theme”
Album: Endless Wire
Release Date: October,
2006
“Vicarious Dad”: This is how I sign off my emails and
chats to daughter Charlotte these days. It
wasn’t difficult to dream that one up.
After all, Charlotte has spent the last 3-plus months on a
semester-abroad tropical-ecology program in Panama; a trip that has included
excursions throughout the country, from rain forests to cloud forests,
volcanoes to coral reefs, mangrove swamps to tropical islands. Charlotte has stayed with Panamanian families
in small villages and lush agricultural regions, as well as an indigenous
culture (the Naso people) where the only way to get to their remote locale was
upriver by boat. She’s seen sloths,
howler monkeys, vipers, armadillos, anteaters, geckos, agouti, peccary, coati, tree
frogs, fruit bats, tarantulas, bizarre insects, tropical fish, tropical birds, sharks,
Portuguese man o’ war, sea turtles, and got up-close and friendly with a
barracuda. Charlotte has also made great
friends with the other 25 ecology students she has traveled with, and has made
wonderful connections with the extremely gracious families she has stayed
with. And so I can vouch for the fact,
that when your daughter is having such experiences, you do live vicariously.
The past few weeks have been a bit trickier to enjoy
from afar, however. For the required ‘independent
study’ part of the curriculum, Charlotte chose to head four hours west of
Panama City, to the highland hamlet of Santa Fe, gateway to a large National
Park of the same name. This would be her
home base to conduct a water quality and macro-invertebrate sampling project at
selected points along the Santa Maria River.
Preparation was a bit of a scramble for equipment, data, research, and
general logistics, considering that there was little time to prepare after the
previous adventure. All seemed to be
coming together a week or so in, until Charlotte’s laptop failed. After a hapless attempt at self-repair, we surfed
the web and found a computer store in Santiago; a fairly large town several
hours down the valley. Charlotte
immediately set off. Their
diagnosis: A colony of tiny white ants
had taken over the innards and wreaked havoc on the motherboard (this story I
passed on to a long-term professor friend at URI who jokingly stated he had
thought he’d heard it all for student excuses).
After a week trying to repair it (and, thank goodness recovering her
data), the techies at the store concluded the laptop was ready. Initially this appeared the case, but later
that day after Charlotte returned to Santa Fe, it fried up again, this time for
good. Back to Santiago and, one used
computer purchase later, Charlotte was finally back on track, albeit understandably
frazzled and a week behind on her on-line research. ** Side Note: During that chaotic week,
Charlotte stated to me that looking back over the months prior she wondered why
every time she opened her laptop there would be a few tiny white ants scurrying
about.
The reason I bring all this up is not so much to gush
over how proud Nancy and I have been while witnessing our daughter’s
grace-under-pressure (though that doesn’t hurt). It’s to give some backdrop to Charlotte’s
plans the morning after that half day spent going back and forth to the
computer store in Santiago. For it was then that she went through with an
earlier commitment to reconnect with several of her new found friends, who were
doing their independent studies on a Caribbean island, Bocas del Toro, which
happened to be on the other side of the continental divide, with few mountain-pass
roads to get there. Charlotte did not
have to add this leg. After all, she had
been through quite the ordeal. But she still
insisted on going. She figured out the complex
bus schedule, a 12 hour journey - ultimately way out of her way for the
tail-end of her semester these next few weeks - and made it work.
One day, Charlotte will do a much better job describing
all of this on her own. I’m simply
trying to encapsulate enough here to hopefully reveal what I see to be a personal
pilgrimage of hers on multiple fronts. I
can say this for certain, because as Charlotte’s adventure unfolded these past
weeks, particularly that last part, it all felt so familiar. In other words, it was exactly as I would
have done. My daughter’s ‘road less traveled’ has been my journey too. I told Charlotte that those friends she was
visiting in Bocas del Toro, if they are true friends, will forever be affected
by her commitment to making these last weeks in Panama work on an interpersonal
level.
I know this only because it’s what true friend Bob told
me many years after one particular journey I made to Ottawa from North Adams to
connect with him and my other Canadian friends a year after going to school
there. Due to a last minute conflict, brother
Fred was unable to make the drive from Franklin to pick me up. Without a car, and rain pelting the windows
to my apartment, I chewed on this predicament some, but soon became
undeterred. I begged a short ride from a
friend to Rte. 7 on the southern end of the Vermont border where I stepped out
of her car and stuck out my thumb. A
handful of eventful rides later (including the back of a hay truck) I was in
Burlington Vermont with Mac, who was going to school at Saint Michaels and who
now joined me on my quest. Several even-more-eventful
rides later (a story in and of itself), the two of us arrived in Montreal where
Bob drove to from Ottawa to pick us up.
All in all it was a 15-hour day-and-night affair, but in the end well
worth it.
Is it the journey that makes the person or the person
that makes the journey? I’ve pondered this all week, and it started, not with
Charlotte’s adventures, but with my immersion into the Who’s 2006 conceptual Endless Wire album. This in turn opened up a self-reflection,
particularly in relation to this blog series, which has been a journey in its
own unique way. My thought process
unfolded in somewhat convoluted fashion, but I’m going to take a stab at a
recap.
Endless Wire was the Who’s return to form
after a 24 year hiatus from the studio. At
last, Pete Townshend had decided to do another collaborative effort with his old
band, which involved coming to terms with what the band meant to him as a
creative force. By this time the Who
were being dubbed “The Two”, with the passing of John Entwistle just four years
prior. Townshend and Roger Daltrey did
have a great supporting cast, but the original ensemble had now been halved. Could they pull it off?
I have to admit to a touch of ambivalence upon my first
go-around with Endless Wire when the album
was first released. I could rattle off
the reasons, but now there’s really no need, seeing as I gained a new
appreciation for Endless Wire this
week. Sometimes it comes down to making
a mental breakthrough (see 17th in a series of Stepping Stones
“Tapping into my Inner Grasshopper” 4/27/12), which was the case here. This enlightenment may simply be in my mind
only, but sometimes that’s what Rock and Roll is all about, and so the insight
had quite the stimulating effect, which pretty much comes down to the
following: The Who released a 6-song concept
EP, Wire and Glass, immediately prior
to the final product, Endless Wire; a
21 song effort which included the entirety of the EP. Wire
and Glass is a futuristic concept centered on three neighborhood friends of
humble origins and from different ethnic and religious backgrounds that become
rock stars and then lose it all (much of this is not easy to discern). Serious Who fans could not help but make the
correlation to Townshend, Daltrey and Entwistle, growing up in the same
neighborhood and forming a band together (Keith Moon would come on board a few
years later). The breakthrough for me was
making a theme connection between this concept-part of Endless Wire, and the rest of the album, which comes across as very
autobiographical to the then much older (and wiser) Who. The concept conceals this connection, but the
more I listened, the more it made sense.
And so, it appears that what Pete Townshend has done here is to write a
concept inside a concept. When I came to that conclusion I checked my head to
make sure it had not exploded.
When I say autobiographical to the Who, and not Pete
Townshend in particular, I’m not making an error. Core themes in Townshend’s writing for the
Who have always been centered on spirituality, music, and the Who
themselves. Townshend has had quite the
solo career, and there is overlap of the spirituality theme in both his Who and
solo songs. But the other two themes are
almost entirely a Who-centered component of his writing. One song on the album that is revealing in
this way is the closing number “Tea & Theatre”, which seems to overlap the
concept and that loose Who autobiography that plays out in the rest of the
album. “One of us – gone; One of us –
mad; One of us – me; All of us sad”, Roger Daltrey sings, reflecting his
band’s story and the futuristic concept.
Whenever the Who have played this live, usually at the end of their set,
Roger Daltrey gets melancholy (and Mac rolls his eyes), which is unlike his
typical stage presence
Another number, “You Stand By Me”, is an apparent Pete
Townshend thank you to Roger Daltrey for being there for him in tough times (particularly
the then fresh wound of being cautioned by British police on an on-line
sex-offenders charge – later disproven and dropped). Of the interrelationships in the Who, that
between Townshend and Daltrey has always seemed to be the most distant and
dicey. It took the death of their two
bandmates and many years of being on the road together to close that
circle. “God Speaks of Marty Robbins”
is a wonderfully melodic acoustic number which attempts to take God’s
perspective as He was creating the universe: “Wake up and hear the music play”, Townshend sings in his most
angelic tenor. Even at the time of Creation, it was about the music for Pete
Townshend.
The EP title track, “Endless Wire”, is moving in its own
way. After all these years, Pete Townshend
was still yearning to tap into his youthful imagination (the aborted Lifehouse concept in this case: See Big Top # 7 “A Change of Plans”) and in
turn open himself back up to that intense thought process. He actually addresses that thought process in
this week’s Big Top entry, “Mike Post Theme” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J6Zmh-KlYZo ), a song about trying to remain emotionally connected in the modern
digital age. This is fascinating to me,
and gets back to my earlier comment about this blog site. “Mike Post Theme” laments to some degree how
sound bites, digital ‘thumbs up’, and hashtags are replacing true heartfelt exchanges
via conversation and letter writing. It
does acknowledge that those emotions can be unleashed when we connect with our
favorite TV shows for example (hence the title, which refers to the man who has
penned some of TVs best theme songs), but this cannot substitute for true communication.
The paradox of all this is that the digital age gives us
an unprecedented platform to network with others in profound ways. Pete Townshend attempted to do this in the
build up to Endless Wire, writing his
thoughts on his then very creative and active blog site, which welcomed
feedback from readers. These musings
very likely inspired me to start up my own blog site, which in a funny sort of
twist, is now building upon thoughts I dream up by listening to Townshend’s
music.
This entry has been all about parallels and interconnectivity:
Charlotte ‘road less’ travelled to mine; Pete Townshend’s futuristic concept to
the Who’s story; my attempt in this blog series to hurdle the laments expressed
in “Mike Post Theme”. I’d like to close
with one more interconnection. Aside
from the direct correlation I made between us after seeing Charlotte’s
determination and commitment to friendship this past week, I was also
enlightened by it in another way. I
truly believe the traits Charlotte showed us this past week also reflect free
will open-mindedness. As such, I predict
Charlotte will forever be able to hurdle those “Mike Post Theme” limitations
too.
With that, I believe all interconnections in this entry have
been tied.
- Pete
(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)
Song: “Happy Jack”
Album: A Quick One
Release Date: December,
1966
I’m sure we
can all recall incidents when we laughed till it hurt. I’ve seen it quite often when daughter Charlotte
connects with her cousins. As for me,
well, I’ve had my share, several of which happened over these past few weeks,
starting on “National Siblings Day” (April 10) when sister Jen posted a classic
30 year-old photo on Facebook of the six
of us (attached). This image had to take
the cake for sib photos that were posted that day, at least the ones I saw. The snapshot was taken in a professional
studio near the end of a photo session after all serious poses had been
exhausted; part of a surprise for our parent’s 25th wedding
anniversary. In this shot, we are all
mugging it up rather convincingly, but what makes the photo so darn funny, and
in turn forever worthy of a revisit, is brother Joe’s expression while holding that
large fake rock. Joe has an exaggerated
look of pride on his face, as if to say “Hey,
I’ve got my rock, and there’s nothing else that really matters.” This one moment, captured on camera, is the
essence of my brother, and when you know someone as well as I know Joe, and
it’s captured as such, you laugh your head off.
My family has
been blessed for an abundance of big-ticket reasons including good health and
the strength of our kinship, but there are certainly secondary reasons too, one
of which has to be Joe’s comedic talents.
Joe has always made laughter come easy to those he meets. We all have comedic abilities, but to be able
to express them in exquisite fashion both physically and emotionally (and at
the drop of a hat) as Joe can are rare gifts.
I equate this to the factors that play out in the potential success of a
Saturday Night Live skit: You have your writers, your comedic actors,
and your audience to make it all either work or fall flat. All three are important, but if you don’t have
that dynamic personality to put it into action, the potential for where the
skit can go is left mostly to the imagination.
If you do have that element,
however, you can have truly hysterical moments, and even on occasion make a
badly written skit look good.
When it
comes to humor, I do think I’ve seen it all:
Joe, as well as Mac, Bouv, Phil, John Miller, Ed, Bruce, heck, all my friends
and family to varying degrees, cover the entirety of humor flavors, from
anecdotal to burlesque, farcical to slapstick, hyperbolic to self-deprecating. Belly-laugh memories dance thru my head with
each and every one of these great non-professional humorists in my life (Mac did
once have aspirations to do stand-up; something not at all difficult for many
of us to envision). I could describe a
story or two but good humor can be very difficult to translate into
writing. More often than not, you really
did have to be there (or in some cases, maybe not), so I’ll leave those stories
to the fireside chatter where it can be a bit easier to interpret.
Fortunately,
aside from our memories and those friends who can act it out, there is plenty
of media out there to help us tap into our personal knee-slapping flashbacks,
albeit vicariously, including movies, candid moments caught on film, and
well-written columns in magazines. For
me, one source of humor has been, believe it or not, the Who, seeing as a great
and refreshing component of this band’s aura was their comedic abilities. This is a rarity for Rock bands. Other than the Beatles (the movies A Hard Day’s Night and Help, along with the ditty “You Know My
Name” come to mind), I can’t think of many musicians who could pull this off
while maintaining a deep respect from critics and Rock fans. Most bands are more like the Rolling Stones,
who have spent a career trying to reflect the image of the serious, sensual,
rebellious artist. The Who proved you
could do these things and be funny at the same time (though perhaps sacrificing
the sensual part….I’d have to ask the ladies).
This ability
was most evident when Keith Moon was still alive; he being one of the most
renowned public figures of his era due to his comedic charm and eccentric
behavior. Moon helped extract the fun
out of those around him, so we get to see and hear John Entwistle’s macabre humor
(i.e. “Boris the Spider”, “My Wife”) and Pete Townshend’s sharp wit (i.e.
“Magic Bus”, “Bell Boy”) to levels that would likely not have been possible
without their frantic drummer in their midst.
Moon played the loon, always ready for madcap moments, and the rest of
the band had to be ready for anything. I
want to say it was similar to what John Lennon brought out in the Beatles, but
I think that was different. There was a
dark, sarcastic angle to Lennon’s humor which kept those around him on their
toes as well. But that reaction often
appeared to be a defensive one. And with
John Lennon there was an insider vs. outsider component to his humor. Moon on the other hand welcomed all those
around him into his world. Everyone was
an insider. His humor was neither cutting
nor bizarre (i.e. Lennon’s play on words).
It was just over-the-top fun, with unfortunate and significant self-abuse
elements helping to drive it.
My own aforementioned
comedic connections may have a few moments here and there that are captured in
snapshot or video form for antiquity, like Joe and his rock, but Keith Moon and
the Who have an abundance of such moments.
Many of these are from their recorded concerts: Moon being dropped to his drum kit from high
above the crowd (suspended on wires); crazy banter between members; Townshend once
lamenting to the crowd that the Who were nothing but a carnival act (a source
comment related to my choice of title for this series by the way, though “Under
the Big Top” was chosen out of profound respect) and then Moon and Entwistle spontaneously
breaking into appropriate carnival music; Moon setting off his drum kit with
explosives; and Moon’s endless animation and facial expressions behind the
drums…. are but some of the moments I’ve watched and read about.
Several of
my favorite Keith Moon-related footages are from pre MTV-like video clips of
the band from the mid-60s (the Who decades ahead of their time). The first is this week’s Big Top entry,
“Happy Jack” video ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=52cQeFBU2Kw ).
It’s a funny Marx-brothers-like skit; the Who as burglars attempting to
break into a safe. Here we get to see
the unique comic relationship that existed between Pete Townshend and Keith
Moon. We also get to see that macabre
John Entwistle humor play out.
“Happy Jack”
is a great Who song with several fantastic instrumental bridges that are
propelled by Entwistle’s bass and Moon’s drums.
The lyrics tell the story of a childhood memory of Pete Townshend’s
about a man who lived on the beach near his parent’s cottage, who was oblivious
to taunting from kids. The refrain
includes the line “They couldn’t prevent
Jack from being happy”, which is telling.
Many young musicians sing of their defiance in the face of adversity: An
“I did it my way” kind-of
attitude. Townshend turns this on its
ear, removing the bravado and in the process opening this song up to a feel of
innocence, which reflects the general air of the Who in those days. Tied in with this general air is the very ending
of “Happy Jack”, after the music has faded, where Townshend is heard yelling
out “I saw ya” after catching Keith Moon popping his head up behind the studio console
in an effort to get in on the backing harmony vocals (Moon was a horrible
singer). Who fans have always gotten a
kick out of this, and I believe a big reason is because they can relate to the
fun and kinship of that moment.
The second video
and accompanying song are knock-your-socks off funny (at least mine), acted out
by the Who to a rare Keith Moon-penned song, “Cobwebs and Strange” (http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x3rckfu ).
I’d like to give a summation of both song and video here. First the song; an instrumental that can best
be described as barely-contained chaos. An
array of brass instruments alternates with manic Keith Moon drumming, each
verse getting more and more frantic and hysterical. As the song reaches a climax, Entwistle’s
trumpet blares notes that are akin to screams of surrender, as if it’s about to
enter a little padded cell. I laughed repeatedly
all over again as I listened this week.
The video
fits the song so perfectly (it’s amazing that the video was originally set to
“Call Me Lightning”, because I can’t picture any song fitting so precisely to
this short as does “Cobwebs and Strange”).
It tells a fantastical account of how the band met their final permanent
member, Keith Moon, using captions for conversation, like the old silent films. It begins with Townshend, Entwistle and
Daltrey sitting reservedly sipping on their afternoon tea, pre madness, as
unbeknownst to them a giant box rolls their way. Upon spotting it, Townshend utters “Oh no, it’s a bleeding box!”, his tea
cup quivering in his hand (just after this moment you can see Entwistle barely
holding back his laughter). After opening
the box and pulling out the human-sized windup toy (Moon), they crank it up and
away it goes. From there things dissolve
into complete disarray as the three try in vein to corral the un-corral-able
(which is pretty much how it played out in real life). Simply put, the video is
brilliant. Side Note: The only footage I
could find (above) is a bit grainy. It’s
of a version which was spliced with other Moon footage for The Kids Are Alright movie, and includes a Townshend intro and a
great Steve Martin moment as he interviews Keith Moon in a hotel room. For the full song effect, you will just have
to get the album.
All in all
“Cobwebs and Strange” (both song and video) as well as the video for “Happy
Jack”, reveals just how much fun the Who could have together. These songs are
from the 1966 A Quick One album, released
at a time when the band was still experimenting in a lot of ways, including all
four members contributing songs to the mix (neither Roger Daltrey nor Keith
Moon would do it again). They had not
yet been fully taken over by Pete Townshend’s genius (not that this is a bad
thing, as has hopefully been evident by everything I have written thus
far). It’s a fun album which hints that for a short while
the Who made us laugh above all else.
Great comedy
is authentic. It’s wonderful when you can make people laugh, because when you
pull it off, you know you have shown others a window into your soul. And their laughter makes a connection also,
because it opens a window into their soul.
We all have gifts, but few are as immediately rewarding as great humor. It slices across barriers that can otherwise be
insurmountable and links us to our youth and innocence.
- Pete
