(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)
Song: “A Little Is
Enough”
Album: Empty Glass
Release Date: April,
1980
Pete Townshend has written plenty of love songs, but there are
only a few where you can be pretty certain that the song is actually about being in love. “Love Reign o’er Me”? Nope; this is more about the power of love
itself, rather than how it drives a beautiful relationship. “Bargain” and “Drowned” are about love for
God (as are many other Townshend penned songs).
“Let My Love Open the Door” is about God’s love for us. “Now and Then” is about misguided love. “They Are All in Love” is about looking upon
others in love. “You Better You Bet” is
all over the map, welcoming interpretation, as is the case with other Townshend
love songs.
One of Pete Townshend’s unmistakable being in love, love songs, however is “A Little Is Enough” and it
is a favorite of mine. * Side Note: And yet, as with many of Townshend’s songs,
there is likely some spiritual duality here too *. “A Little Is Enough” is one of those songs
that, if you have ever been graced to experience this mind-numbing emotion, you
can immediately relate. In my personal ‘top’
love-songs list, it’s up there with Van Morrison’s “Have I Told You Lately”
(Nancy and my wedding dance song), Leonard Cohen’s “So Long Marianne” and “Dance
Me to the End of Love”, the Pretenders “Back on the Chain Gang” (reflecting on
love lost), Neil Young’s “Change Your Mind” (the advice of one friend to
another that reconnecting with the loving bond of his marriage as being the only
solution for his troubled soul), and I am sure a handful of others that don’t
come to mind at the moment.
Love songs are so unique, that they can bring the cornball out of
the most stalwart of public images. For
example, if you only knew Eric Clapton for “Wonderful Tonight” you would think
he could only be heard on soft rock radio stations. Bob Dylan’s studio version of “Lay Lady Lay”
sounds nothing like him. Patti Smith “Because
the Night” comes across as positively mainstream (for her). And John Lennon was so smitten with Yoko Ono
that he out cornballed them all with songs like “Woman” and “Oh, Yoko” (and
yet, none of these come close to the Styx “Babe” in the softie department, but
hey, even that song can touch those of us who have been on the receiving end of
Cupid’s arrow).
There are many elements that contribute to what makes “A Little Is
Enough” a great love song, including lines like “I’m like a connoisseur of champagne cognac; the perfume nearly beats
the taste” and “I eat an oyster and I
feel the contact, but more than one would be a waist”. What put this song over the top for me
however, are the crescendo lyrics that follow upon the instrumental-bridge. It is here that Townshend takes his typically
impassioned singing to new levels:
“Just like a sailor
heading in the sea
There’s a gale blowing in my face
The high winds scare me but I need the breeze
And I can’t head for any other place
Life would seem so easy on the other tack
But even a hurricane won’t turn me back
You might be an island
On the distant horizon
But the little I see
Looks like heaven to me
And I don’t care if the ocean gets rough
Just a little is enough”
On the Pete Townshend Deep
End Live! release of “A Little Is Enough” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DBRG-KI_UWk), there is fresh emphasis on certain lyrics and phrases in this
stanza that we don’t get on the original studio version (which is not meant to
be a criticism of the brilliance of the studio cut). For example the way Townshend emphasizes the
word ‘any’ in line 4 (above) and ‘hurricane’ in line 6: Further proof that this musician is one of the
best when it comes to live Rock and Roll improvisation.
All of this begs the question:
What makes for a great love song?
Well, as the title of another magical tune centered on this most popular
of song-topics declares, “God Only Knows”.
I suppose if I knew the answer to that question I would have attempted
to wax poetic on it at least once in any one of my numerous entries to this
blog site thus far. Falling in love is
after all a central piece of my life puzzle, and likely for many who read these
entries as well. I do know that great
love songs cut across genres. They can
be slow or fast, soothing or harsh, melodic and even discordant.
As with any great song in general, I think that with great love
songs, there more often than not has to be a little pain involved, and “A
Little Is Enough” is not without struggle.
Townshend’s lyrics include “But
it’s clear that the match is rough” and “Common sense’s tell me not to try and continue”. Other songs I have listed above have similar
folly. On “Have I Told You Lately”, Van
Morrison sings “take away my sadness,
ease my troubles”. On “Dance Me to
the End of Love” Leonard Cohen sings “Dance
me through the panic ‘til I’m gathered safely in”. Both “Back on the Chain Gang” and “Change
Your Mind” are fraught with the pain that can ultimately come with falling in
love.
One of Roger Daltrey’s most memorable quotes was back in the 70s when
he stated that Pete Townshend’s best songwriting is expressed when he’s
depressed. Why such a memorable quote? I believe it is because Who fans already knew
this to be a fact and so it was refreshing to hear Pete’s typically unphilosophical
band member actually reflect on the notion.
Even though it does have touches of sadness in the lyrics, “A Little Is
Enough” is primarily upbeat, and so it’s a bit of an anomaly in terms of Townshend’s
songwriting in the late 70s. However, I
don’t believe it stands isolated. I
think it feeds off his more depressing (yet brutally honest) material at the
time, which would include “Empty Glass”, “Daily Records”, “Cache Cache”, “New
Song”, and “Jools and Jim”. Looking at
it from this context, it’s a truly unique tune in the annals of Who music. And so
in a way the actual song “A Little Is Enough” is that proverbial ‘island on a distant horizon’.
But this condition is not so unique in the annals of Rock music
and maybe this is what I’m driving at in regards to what makes a great ‘in-love’
love song, at least for me. It’s not
only about the expression of the love song itself but also what it’s surrounded
by. Love comes with a heighted sense of
all our emotions. Love comes with
heartache. It comes with pain. It comes with humor. It comes with truth and faith and conviction
and, yes, dismal failure and even self-loathing. The best of Rock musicians know this. They express all these emotions, quite often
on the same album. It’s what true
Rock-music fans look for, because the whole ball of wax strikes a chord,
reflecting on our own complex lives and connecting all of us with our common
humanity.
- Pete
Sunday, November 6, 2016
Saturday, October 29, 2016
Under the Big Top # 43: “When Fiction Becomes Fact”
(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)
Song: “Pure and Easy”
Album: Who Came First
Release Date: October, 1972
When was the last time you did something for the very first time where you said to yourself afterwards, “Man, I never thought I’d get around to that”? Often it is something that’s been sitting out there for quite some time, stirring your curiosity, but not to the degree where you feel you have to act on it anytime soon. And so that something remains out of your realm of concrete comprehension. In turn, you end up conjuring up your own alternate reality of what fills that space. It could be a street you drive by every day on the way to work, but have never veered onto. It could be a classic novel you have never read or a nearby town you have never visited. It could be an Oscar-winning movie you have never watched, or a seldom-seen neighbor you have never greeted, or an activity you have never taken up.
Or, it could be an album you have never listened to. Now, I’ve been pecking away over the years at my own personal disc-bucket-list. My “Stepping Stones” blog series of 4 years ago included listening to Between the Buttons from beginning to end for the first time. The “Forever Young” series included a personal baptism with On the Beach. In the last three decades I have also tackled Astral Weeks (Van Morrison), What’s Going On (Marvin Gaye), Squeezing Out the Sparks (Graham Parker and the Rumour), Blue (Joni Mitchell), Sweetheart of the Rodeo (The Byrds), Sail Away (Randy Newman) and John Wesley Harding (Bob Dylan), among many others. But The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars (David Bowie) remains outside my own personal plane of knowledge, as is the case with This Year’s Model (Elvis Costello and the Attractions), Solid Air (John Martyn), Arthur (The Kinks), Paradise and Lunch (Ry Cooder), Kate and Anna McGarrigle (self-titled debut), Rock ‘n’ Roll (The Mekons), and Shoot Out the Lights (Richard and Linda Thompson), among many others.
There are also the odd-duck records and intriguing deeper cuts of the most popular of Rock musicians that have remained elusive. These include John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s Two Virgins, George Harrison’s Wonderwall, Bob Dylan’s Self Portrait, Keith Moon’s Two Sides of the Moon, Ray Davies The Storyteller, and John Entwistle’s Smash Your Head Against the Wall. But I have conquered Neil Young’s Trans and Re-Ac-Tor in the past 2 years, and the Rolling Stones Her Satanic Majesties Request. In terms of those last three albums, there was some pain in my week-long dedicated listening (for my blog entries), but I did pull it off, and in the process found a few lonely little petunias in the onion patch.
This week I tackled another one of those outliers, Pete Townshend “debut” solo album Who Came First. I put the word debut in quotes here because many, including myself, consider this more as a specialty disc of demos (with contributions from others), and not what one would think of as a professionally-produced studio album. Regardless, it felt strange popping Who Came First into my cd player on Monday and then tuning in; similar to how I felt when I peered out the plane window on my decent into Whitehorse, Yukon last year: A long imagined concept becoming real. The album cover was already unmistakable to me: Pete Townshend in his Woodstock-era white jumper-suit standing on a supersized batch of whole white eggs (which begs the question; Who came first, the chicken or the egg?).
As was the case with Young’s Trans, Harrison’s Wonderwall and Lennon/Ono’s Two Virgins, Who Came First was a very personal album for the songwriter, which centered on the teachings of Pete Townshend’s spiritual “avatar”, Meher Baba. Now, I’m not going to delve any deeper into the Eastern religious spirituality of Townshend and Baba (and several other celeb-type followers, including the Small Faces Ronnie Lane and Tommy cover artist Mike McInnerney), other than to say that everything I’ve read reminds me of the teachings of Jesus, and so it’s all good. Yes, Who Came First is an overtly religious album, along the lines of Godspell, Jesus Christ Superstar, and - pivoting a bit closer to Rock and Roll home - George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass and Bob Dylan’s Saved. This was an opportunity to see the peaceful man behind the stage destruction and guitar demolition, and to connect the dots with the intense songwriting Townshend was showcasing on Who albums up to that point (1972); particularly songs on Tommy and Who’s Next.
In listening to Who Came First this week, the biggest take home message for me was that the music on it is further confirmation that Pete Townshend is a musician fully willing to bare his soul to the public. In fact, I think he sees this as his duty. Later in the decade, that soul-baring would also play out in ever more humble and confessing ways, as Townshend would acknowledge long periods of substance abuse (i.e. “However Much I Booze”) and spiritual depravity (i.e. “Empty Glass”), among other wayward ways (he would eventually get through this period of transgression, and remains a Meher Baba devotee to this day). And so, of all Pete Townshend’s albums, Who Came First is the only one in the Who/Townshend catalog that comes across as unabashedly uplifting. Its core messages are love, faith, and redemption. Many of his other albums are too, but it takes a while to get there; there’s a struggle you have to go through first. Not so with this open-hearted record.
Who Came First opens up with “Pure and Easy” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mfFh0h1IF20 ), which four years later would appear on the Who’s Odds and Sods, with Roger Daltrey singing the lead. * Side Note: Ideally, “Pure and Easy” should have made it’s Who introduction on Who’s Next in 1971. Combined with other omissions, including two more songs on Who Came First - those being “Let’s See Action” and “The Seeker”- would likely have vaulted that record from a top 20 all-time Rock album to a top 5). Pete Townshend has written a laundry list of soul-searching songs and ”Pure and Easy” may be the epiphany of them all (along with “Drowned”, which I still need to write about). I recall in Townshend’s autobiography Who I Am, where he reflects on a childhood memory while in a small boat during a storm, where the intensity of the moment suddenly connected him with a musical sound like no other he had ever heard. Reading this, it came across to me as a life changing moment for him. “Pure and Easy” captures that sentiment in song.
I believe all faiths have a musical component: Hymns, Psalms, Gospel, Pow-wows, chants, a cappella, etc. It appears that with Who Came First, Pete Townshend and his compatriots were hoping to make a musical case for their new religion. Although I have enjoyed listening to Who Came First, I’m not connected enough to the teachings of Baba to understand if they made a compelling case. But I do understand the power of music and on this album and many others, Townshend found a way to combine musical and spiritual beauty: Now that is something I can relate to. And that combination just may be the cathartic moment that Townshend experienced on that boat as a boy, and later put into words and music in the song “Pure and Easy”.
I’ve alluded to the fact several times in these blog entries that I tend to like loose ends; mysteries that remain unexplored. Perhaps it’s a personal bias; that fiction is stranger than fact (or better yet, stronger). I believe this thinking is tied to the notion that if something has not been discovered, the possibilities remain endless. This week, I ‘discovered’ Who Came First, and as my connection transitioned from abstract to concrete, I came to the realization that for any qualitative artistic expression, my bias is proven wrong: Fact can on rare occasions be stronger, stranger and even more surreal than fiction. Do I leave things that I alluded to in my opening paragraphs of this entry hanging out there because I don’t want to be disappointed? That’s part of it, and more often than not this becomes a truism when I finally do dip my toes in. But then, despite the setback, that curious side kicks in again, and I dig, delve, veer, probe, and listen until suddenly I am rewarded with a rare diamond in the rough.
- Pete
Song: “Pure and Easy”
Album: Who Came First
Release Date: October, 1972
When was the last time you did something for the very first time where you said to yourself afterwards, “Man, I never thought I’d get around to that”? Often it is something that’s been sitting out there for quite some time, stirring your curiosity, but not to the degree where you feel you have to act on it anytime soon. And so that something remains out of your realm of concrete comprehension. In turn, you end up conjuring up your own alternate reality of what fills that space. It could be a street you drive by every day on the way to work, but have never veered onto. It could be a classic novel you have never read or a nearby town you have never visited. It could be an Oscar-winning movie you have never watched, or a seldom-seen neighbor you have never greeted, or an activity you have never taken up.
Or, it could be an album you have never listened to. Now, I’ve been pecking away over the years at my own personal disc-bucket-list. My “Stepping Stones” blog series of 4 years ago included listening to Between the Buttons from beginning to end for the first time. The “Forever Young” series included a personal baptism with On the Beach. In the last three decades I have also tackled Astral Weeks (Van Morrison), What’s Going On (Marvin Gaye), Squeezing Out the Sparks (Graham Parker and the Rumour), Blue (Joni Mitchell), Sweetheart of the Rodeo (The Byrds), Sail Away (Randy Newman) and John Wesley Harding (Bob Dylan), among many others. But The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars (David Bowie) remains outside my own personal plane of knowledge, as is the case with This Year’s Model (Elvis Costello and the Attractions), Solid Air (John Martyn), Arthur (The Kinks), Paradise and Lunch (Ry Cooder), Kate and Anna McGarrigle (self-titled debut), Rock ‘n’ Roll (The Mekons), and Shoot Out the Lights (Richard and Linda Thompson), among many others.
There are also the odd-duck records and intriguing deeper cuts of the most popular of Rock musicians that have remained elusive. These include John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s Two Virgins, George Harrison’s Wonderwall, Bob Dylan’s Self Portrait, Keith Moon’s Two Sides of the Moon, Ray Davies The Storyteller, and John Entwistle’s Smash Your Head Against the Wall. But I have conquered Neil Young’s Trans and Re-Ac-Tor in the past 2 years, and the Rolling Stones Her Satanic Majesties Request. In terms of those last three albums, there was some pain in my week-long dedicated listening (for my blog entries), but I did pull it off, and in the process found a few lonely little petunias in the onion patch.
This week I tackled another one of those outliers, Pete Townshend “debut” solo album Who Came First. I put the word debut in quotes here because many, including myself, consider this more as a specialty disc of demos (with contributions from others), and not what one would think of as a professionally-produced studio album. Regardless, it felt strange popping Who Came First into my cd player on Monday and then tuning in; similar to how I felt when I peered out the plane window on my decent into Whitehorse, Yukon last year: A long imagined concept becoming real. The album cover was already unmistakable to me: Pete Townshend in his Woodstock-era white jumper-suit standing on a supersized batch of whole white eggs (which begs the question; Who came first, the chicken or the egg?).
As was the case with Young’s Trans, Harrison’s Wonderwall and Lennon/Ono’s Two Virgins, Who Came First was a very personal album for the songwriter, which centered on the teachings of Pete Townshend’s spiritual “avatar”, Meher Baba. Now, I’m not going to delve any deeper into the Eastern religious spirituality of Townshend and Baba (and several other celeb-type followers, including the Small Faces Ronnie Lane and Tommy cover artist Mike McInnerney), other than to say that everything I’ve read reminds me of the teachings of Jesus, and so it’s all good. Yes, Who Came First is an overtly religious album, along the lines of Godspell, Jesus Christ Superstar, and - pivoting a bit closer to Rock and Roll home - George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass and Bob Dylan’s Saved. This was an opportunity to see the peaceful man behind the stage destruction and guitar demolition, and to connect the dots with the intense songwriting Townshend was showcasing on Who albums up to that point (1972); particularly songs on Tommy and Who’s Next.
In listening to Who Came First this week, the biggest take home message for me was that the music on it is further confirmation that Pete Townshend is a musician fully willing to bare his soul to the public. In fact, I think he sees this as his duty. Later in the decade, that soul-baring would also play out in ever more humble and confessing ways, as Townshend would acknowledge long periods of substance abuse (i.e. “However Much I Booze”) and spiritual depravity (i.e. “Empty Glass”), among other wayward ways (he would eventually get through this period of transgression, and remains a Meher Baba devotee to this day). And so, of all Pete Townshend’s albums, Who Came First is the only one in the Who/Townshend catalog that comes across as unabashedly uplifting. Its core messages are love, faith, and redemption. Many of his other albums are too, but it takes a while to get there; there’s a struggle you have to go through first. Not so with this open-hearted record.
Who Came First opens up with “Pure and Easy” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mfFh0h1IF20 ), which four years later would appear on the Who’s Odds and Sods, with Roger Daltrey singing the lead. * Side Note: Ideally, “Pure and Easy” should have made it’s Who introduction on Who’s Next in 1971. Combined with other omissions, including two more songs on Who Came First - those being “Let’s See Action” and “The Seeker”- would likely have vaulted that record from a top 20 all-time Rock album to a top 5). Pete Townshend has written a laundry list of soul-searching songs and ”Pure and Easy” may be the epiphany of them all (along with “Drowned”, which I still need to write about). I recall in Townshend’s autobiography Who I Am, where he reflects on a childhood memory while in a small boat during a storm, where the intensity of the moment suddenly connected him with a musical sound like no other he had ever heard. Reading this, it came across to me as a life changing moment for him. “Pure and Easy” captures that sentiment in song.
I believe all faiths have a musical component: Hymns, Psalms, Gospel, Pow-wows, chants, a cappella, etc. It appears that with Who Came First, Pete Townshend and his compatriots were hoping to make a musical case for their new religion. Although I have enjoyed listening to Who Came First, I’m not connected enough to the teachings of Baba to understand if they made a compelling case. But I do understand the power of music and on this album and many others, Townshend found a way to combine musical and spiritual beauty: Now that is something I can relate to. And that combination just may be the cathartic moment that Townshend experienced on that boat as a boy, and later put into words and music in the song “Pure and Easy”.
I’ve alluded to the fact several times in these blog entries that I tend to like loose ends; mysteries that remain unexplored. Perhaps it’s a personal bias; that fiction is stranger than fact (or better yet, stronger). I believe this thinking is tied to the notion that if something has not been discovered, the possibilities remain endless. This week, I ‘discovered’ Who Came First, and as my connection transitioned from abstract to concrete, I came to the realization that for any qualitative artistic expression, my bias is proven wrong: Fact can on rare occasions be stronger, stranger and even more surreal than fiction. Do I leave things that I alluded to in my opening paragraphs of this entry hanging out there because I don’t want to be disappointed? That’s part of it, and more often than not this becomes a truism when I finally do dip my toes in. But then, despite the setback, that curious side kicks in again, and I dig, delve, veer, probe, and listen until suddenly I am rewarded with a rare diamond in the rough.
- Pete
Saturday, October 22, 2016
Under the Big Top # 42: “Expectations and First Impressions”
(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)
Song: “I Can’t Explain”
Album: Released as a single
Release Date: December, 1964
It felt as if the diamond ring was burning a hole in my pants, and that it would disappear at any moment, slicing through the stitching of the lining in my pocket with the same precision-sharp edges that were cut by the Boston jeweler on Washington Street whom I had recently purchased it from. It would be weeks before Nancy and I would get to the Alps, which was where I wanted to unveil it. In the meantime, here we were in Paris, hundreds of miles away, with friends to visit and a wedding to attend in Holland beforehand. I’d already been babysitting this shiny little puppy for four days, including through airport security, where I was nervous as hell that the personnel would detect it and prematurely blow my carefully laid-out plans (in hindsight that would have been an interesting place to propose). On top of all this, I was very excited to make my case to Nancy. Put it all together, and that majestic European mountain range felt as if it were light years away.
Could somewhere/anywhere in Paris be an alternative? Well, first I had to break my future wife away from our friendly crowd, which was not all that kosher of a thought for Nancy, considering that we had just reunited with our Parisian-based friends (the bride and groom to be) the day before. But I filled Bob in on my intentions, and he was able to help me weave though Nancy’s wonderfully polite sensibilities. Soon enough the two of us were off on our own to try and make the best of what ‘la Ville des Lumières’ has to offer.
All day, the Eiffel Tower was looming both in the distance and in my mind. But from afar, the structure did not impress to the degree I had desired. However, I decided to hold out hope that this world-renowned marvel of human ingenuity would gain in stature as we gravitated closer. And so I passed popping the question at the Notre Dame Cathedral, and on the River Seine, and in the cafes of Montmartre, and at the Arc de Triomphe, and in the magnificent restaurant we dined at that evening.
By the time we reached the immediate neighborhood of the Eiffel Tower, where every glance up was a vantage point, night had fallen. And the closer to the ‘Iron Lady’ we got the more impressive she became. When we finally arrived, I looked up in shocked awe at the magnificently lit-up tower. A contented feeling settled over me: This was indeed the place! Nancy was impressed too (which is never an easy sell). To get to the top, however, would take some time, seeing as there was a very long line to get on the elevator. In fact, there was a chance we may not get up there at all that night based on some of the feedback I was getting from the security folks. There was simply no way that going to happen.
We poked around a bit (as is my nature) and ended up sauntering to a dimly-lit section of the base, where we spotted a staircase that was loosely roped off. No one was there to stop us, and so we slipped under the barrier and began climbing the steps. And then we kept going…..and going…..and going: To the first platform, and beyond. It was at the second platform that we slipped under another rope and joined a crowd of people who had stepped off the elevator. We enjoyed the view for a moment and then got on the up elevator which took us to the top.
Stepping off and then looking out at the postcard-perfect Parisian nite, I dug into my pocket for the umpteenth time and relievingly felt the rock. We then stepped over to the Seine River side of the platform and I slipped a short primer note I had written out of my pocket. Nancy smiled sweetly at me after reading it, but did not get the full gist of the meaning. And so, I finished the delivery, pulling out the ring and proposing on the spot. Now that got a reaction! (not only from Nancy but from the two women behind her, who just happened to capture the whole affair). There were a few tears shed and also (thank goodness) a big fat “Yes!” Mission accomplished.
I begin this entry with this favorite reflection of mine because I’m focusing here on first impressions and the expectations that may or may not come with them. My expectations of that nite had certainly turned out as wonderful as I had hoped, and it was in part due to a famous edifice pulling thru, which was not in any way a guarantee. The Eiffel Tower had never been a really a big deal to me. I’m more of a natural-features guy: Niagara Falls, Old Faithful, the fjords of Norway, the Mississippi River, and the icebergs off the coast of Newfoundland all come to mind. It takes a bit more for cultural features to blow me away, but it can happen: The US Capitol, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Rideau Canal, the Statue of Liberty, even the Pepperell Covered Bridge in my hometown. They have all wowed me, and it’s partly due to the fact that when it comes to cultural features, my expectations are low, which increases the chances of making those ‘what have I got to lose’ experiences positive ones. On the other hand my expectations for natural features are typically on the high end of the scale. These features have much more to prove (and many of them pull through). It’s all kind of a paradox when I think about it.
The Who came out of the gate in 1964 with the single “I Can’t Explain”( (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h3h--K5928M) in 1964 and followed it up several months later with their second single “Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mXU0GvtOTH0) This was a heck-of-an opening salvo for the Who…. for that matter, any band that hopes to nail down their image right off. Yes, the Who had established their sound from the get go, which is not typically the way it works. The earliest Rolling Stones records for example were old-Blues sounding. The early Beatles recordings were a bit teeny-bop. Bob Dylan had a raw coffee-house folkie sound on his self-titled debut, but there’s little there that reveals what he would soon become.
But those earliest Who singles gave us the essence of this band (indeed, there are examples of other musicians who have done this, including Richard Thompson, the Kinks, REM, and Led Zeppelin). On top of being a nice, slightly-brash pop number, “I Can’t Explain” reveals Townshend’s seeker mentality in his songwriting. The title alone gives this away, with the opening lines reaffirming this:
Got a feeling inside (Can't explain)
Song: “I Can’t Explain”
Album: Released as a single
Release Date: December, 1964
It felt as if the diamond ring was burning a hole in my pants, and that it would disappear at any moment, slicing through the stitching of the lining in my pocket with the same precision-sharp edges that were cut by the Boston jeweler on Washington Street whom I had recently purchased it from. It would be weeks before Nancy and I would get to the Alps, which was where I wanted to unveil it. In the meantime, here we were in Paris, hundreds of miles away, with friends to visit and a wedding to attend in Holland beforehand. I’d already been babysitting this shiny little puppy for four days, including through airport security, where I was nervous as hell that the personnel would detect it and prematurely blow my carefully laid-out plans (in hindsight that would have been an interesting place to propose). On top of all this, I was very excited to make my case to Nancy. Put it all together, and that majestic European mountain range felt as if it were light years away.
Could somewhere/anywhere in Paris be an alternative? Well, first I had to break my future wife away from our friendly crowd, which was not all that kosher of a thought for Nancy, considering that we had just reunited with our Parisian-based friends (the bride and groom to be) the day before. But I filled Bob in on my intentions, and he was able to help me weave though Nancy’s wonderfully polite sensibilities. Soon enough the two of us were off on our own to try and make the best of what ‘la Ville des Lumières’ has to offer.
All day, the Eiffel Tower was looming both in the distance and in my mind. But from afar, the structure did not impress to the degree I had desired. However, I decided to hold out hope that this world-renowned marvel of human ingenuity would gain in stature as we gravitated closer. And so I passed popping the question at the Notre Dame Cathedral, and on the River Seine, and in the cafes of Montmartre, and at the Arc de Triomphe, and in the magnificent restaurant we dined at that evening.
By the time we reached the immediate neighborhood of the Eiffel Tower, where every glance up was a vantage point, night had fallen. And the closer to the ‘Iron Lady’ we got the more impressive she became. When we finally arrived, I looked up in shocked awe at the magnificently lit-up tower. A contented feeling settled over me: This was indeed the place! Nancy was impressed too (which is never an easy sell). To get to the top, however, would take some time, seeing as there was a very long line to get on the elevator. In fact, there was a chance we may not get up there at all that night based on some of the feedback I was getting from the security folks. There was simply no way that going to happen.
We poked around a bit (as is my nature) and ended up sauntering to a dimly-lit section of the base, where we spotted a staircase that was loosely roped off. No one was there to stop us, and so we slipped under the barrier and began climbing the steps. And then we kept going…..and going…..and going: To the first platform, and beyond. It was at the second platform that we slipped under another rope and joined a crowd of people who had stepped off the elevator. We enjoyed the view for a moment and then got on the up elevator which took us to the top.
Stepping off and then looking out at the postcard-perfect Parisian nite, I dug into my pocket for the umpteenth time and relievingly felt the rock. We then stepped over to the Seine River side of the platform and I slipped a short primer note I had written out of my pocket. Nancy smiled sweetly at me after reading it, but did not get the full gist of the meaning. And so, I finished the delivery, pulling out the ring and proposing on the spot. Now that got a reaction! (not only from Nancy but from the two women behind her, who just happened to capture the whole affair). There were a few tears shed and also (thank goodness) a big fat “Yes!” Mission accomplished.
I begin this entry with this favorite reflection of mine because I’m focusing here on first impressions and the expectations that may or may not come with them. My expectations of that nite had certainly turned out as wonderful as I had hoped, and it was in part due to a famous edifice pulling thru, which was not in any way a guarantee. The Eiffel Tower had never been a really a big deal to me. I’m more of a natural-features guy: Niagara Falls, Old Faithful, the fjords of Norway, the Mississippi River, and the icebergs off the coast of Newfoundland all come to mind. It takes a bit more for cultural features to blow me away, but it can happen: The US Capitol, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Rideau Canal, the Statue of Liberty, even the Pepperell Covered Bridge in my hometown. They have all wowed me, and it’s partly due to the fact that when it comes to cultural features, my expectations are low, which increases the chances of making those ‘what have I got to lose’ experiences positive ones. On the other hand my expectations for natural features are typically on the high end of the scale. These features have much more to prove (and many of them pull through). It’s all kind of a paradox when I think about it.
The Who came out of the gate in 1964 with the single “I Can’t Explain”( (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h3h--K5928M) in 1964 and followed it up several months later with their second single “Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mXU0GvtOTH0) This was a heck-of-an opening salvo for the Who…. for that matter, any band that hopes to nail down their image right off. Yes, the Who had established their sound from the get go, which is not typically the way it works. The earliest Rolling Stones records for example were old-Blues sounding. The early Beatles recordings were a bit teeny-bop. Bob Dylan had a raw coffee-house folkie sound on his self-titled debut, but there’s little there that reveals what he would soon become.
But those earliest Who singles gave us the essence of this band (indeed, there are examples of other musicians who have done this, including Richard Thompson, the Kinks, REM, and Led Zeppelin). On top of being a nice, slightly-brash pop number, “I Can’t Explain” reveals Townshend’s seeker mentality in his songwriting. The title alone gives this away, with the opening lines reaffirming this:
Got a feeling inside (Can't explain)
It's a certain kind (Can't explain)
I feel hot and cold (Can't explain)
Yeah, down in my soul, yeah (Can't explain)
With those lyrics, the Who introduced themselves to the world…..not bad! And then, “Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere” came at us from a slightly different angle. Where “I Can’t Explain” may be a bit polished, not so for this second single. The ‘instrumental’ mid-riff reflects a Who live set, with feedback, reverb and power chords. Keith Moon’s unique drumming comes across much clearer here too than in the opening single. All four members get to strut their stuff at one point or another (I love Roger Daltrey’s fade away “Anywhere……” as the buildup to that instrumental portion kicks in). It’s a fantastic song. To this day, both “I Can’t Explain” and “Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere” remain opening numbers in most Who set lists. How many longstanding bands can say this about their introduction singles?
First impressions can be tricky. If they are real positive or real negative they can stick with you for a very long time, if not a lifetime. The giant iceberg stranded in a Newfoundland harbor was jaw dropping. The dinosaur-sized bison crossing the road right in front of our car introduced the family to Yellowstone. The Yukon River in downtown Whitehorse had the breathtaking aura of being remote and untamed. Stepping off a plane in Brussels at 7 am and seeing an airport full of businessman drinking beer gave me a first whiff of European culture. My first wildlife sightings of Killer Whales, Puffins, Steller Sea Lion, Bald Eagles, Yellow Spotted Salamanders, Giant Sequoia, Roadrunners, and Mountain Goats have all confirmed my fascination with nature.
The same thing can be said for people. There was the cackling, sarcastic old man in San Antonio who confirmed my preconceived Texan stereotype for a spell until others helped round my thoughts out (see Big Top # 6). There was an early Democratic debate in 1992, when I checked off each introduced challenger as ‘not a problem’ to my choice, Paul Tsongas…. that is until they came to this guy named Bill Clinton. There was Bobby Orr, weaving his way around the ice as if everyone else were standing still, the instant fan in my Brother Fred and me in-turn being aroused in the fall of 1970. There was good friend Kurt, who cut through the din of the more raucous overtures of his roommates, insisting I join them for a game of pool. And there was Nancy, sitting in my chair at a Halloween party in her Indian outfit, instantly shedding the normally apprehensive invisible barrier of mine when it came to breaking the ice with pretty woman (see Big Top # 16).
“I Can’t Explain” was the Who’s introduction to Rock fans and the music industry, but my personal inauguration (in terms of piecing it all together) came 16 years later in 1980 as I watched The Kids Are Alright film (see Big Top # 2). I had no expectations as I walked into the cinema that evening, similar to the low expectations that I had for the Eiffel Tower later in that decade. In both cases, the product pulled through with flying colors. And both events had lasting impact, arguably the most lasting in a lifetime of curious exploration into what this world has to offer. First impressions and expectations: It’s always great to be ready for something, but it’s even better when something magnificent hits you out of the blue.
- Pete
I feel hot and cold (Can't explain)
Yeah, down in my soul, yeah (Can't explain)
With those lyrics, the Who introduced themselves to the world…..not bad! And then, “Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere” came at us from a slightly different angle. Where “I Can’t Explain” may be a bit polished, not so for this second single. The ‘instrumental’ mid-riff reflects a Who live set, with feedback, reverb and power chords. Keith Moon’s unique drumming comes across much clearer here too than in the opening single. All four members get to strut their stuff at one point or another (I love Roger Daltrey’s fade away “Anywhere……” as the buildup to that instrumental portion kicks in). It’s a fantastic song. To this day, both “I Can’t Explain” and “Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere” remain opening numbers in most Who set lists. How many longstanding bands can say this about their introduction singles?
First impressions can be tricky. If they are real positive or real negative they can stick with you for a very long time, if not a lifetime. The giant iceberg stranded in a Newfoundland harbor was jaw dropping. The dinosaur-sized bison crossing the road right in front of our car introduced the family to Yellowstone. The Yukon River in downtown Whitehorse had the breathtaking aura of being remote and untamed. Stepping off a plane in Brussels at 7 am and seeing an airport full of businessman drinking beer gave me a first whiff of European culture. My first wildlife sightings of Killer Whales, Puffins, Steller Sea Lion, Bald Eagles, Yellow Spotted Salamanders, Giant Sequoia, Roadrunners, and Mountain Goats have all confirmed my fascination with nature.
The same thing can be said for people. There was the cackling, sarcastic old man in San Antonio who confirmed my preconceived Texan stereotype for a spell until others helped round my thoughts out (see Big Top # 6). There was an early Democratic debate in 1992, when I checked off each introduced challenger as ‘not a problem’ to my choice, Paul Tsongas…. that is until they came to this guy named Bill Clinton. There was Bobby Orr, weaving his way around the ice as if everyone else were standing still, the instant fan in my Brother Fred and me in-turn being aroused in the fall of 1970. There was good friend Kurt, who cut through the din of the more raucous overtures of his roommates, insisting I join them for a game of pool. And there was Nancy, sitting in my chair at a Halloween party in her Indian outfit, instantly shedding the normally apprehensive invisible barrier of mine when it came to breaking the ice with pretty woman (see Big Top # 16).
“I Can’t Explain” was the Who’s introduction to Rock fans and the music industry, but my personal inauguration (in terms of piecing it all together) came 16 years later in 1980 as I watched The Kids Are Alright film (see Big Top # 2). I had no expectations as I walked into the cinema that evening, similar to the low expectations that I had for the Eiffel Tower later in that decade. In both cases, the product pulled through with flying colors. And both events had lasting impact, arguably the most lasting in a lifetime of curious exploration into what this world has to offer. First impressions and expectations: It’s always great to be ready for something, but it’s even better when something magnificent hits you out of the blue.
- Pete
Sunday, October 16, 2016
Under the Big Top # 41: “Been There”
(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)
Song: “Slit Skirts”
Album: All the Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes
Release Date: June, 1982
This past weekend was the once-in-a-lifetime “Concert in the Desert”, which took place in Coachella, California, a remote region east of Palm Springs near the Salton Sea (as in can’t_get_there_from_here; believe me, I looked into it). This was a virtual Rock and Roll ‘Dream Team’ of live acts. Bob Dylan and the Rolling Stones played full sets the first nite, followed by Neil Young and Paul McCartney the second nite and finally The Who and Roger Waters on the third nite. Ok, John Lennon was not there. Neither was George Harrison, Ringo Starr, John Entwistle, Keith Moon, Bill Wyman, Brian Jones, Mick Taylor, David Gilmour, Nick Mason, or Richard Wright. But many of their former bandmates were there, including some of the heaviest hitters in Rock and Roll history: Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Charlie Watts, Ronnie Wood, Pete Townshend, Roger Daltrey, Roger Waters, and the aforementioned Dylan, McCartney and Young.
It was pretty amazing that this event came together, considering the fact that all of these musicians are in their 6th decades as active (vs. nostalgic) performers and all have been top draw acts throughout that time, which remains the case to this day (and I mean ‘top draw’ as relates to both their influence and ticket sales). In fact, I can’t think of anyone who should have been included or excluded. In other words, if a comprehensive survey were to query long-time rock fans to list their personal top 100 rock acts in order, these six (in the case of Paul McCartney and Roger Waters, I refer to the bands they are primarily associated with, those of course being the Beatles and Pink Floyd respectively) would most likely percolate to the top. * Side Note: I guess I’m pretty proud of the fact that this series of yearly blogs that I am writing focuses on five of the six acts that played at Coachella (Pink Floyd could eventually be a nice added touch, as could another outstanding stalwart, the Kinks. But I’d have to come up to speed a bit more if I am to write about either of these bands for an entire year).
Yes, these musicians have been around a----long----time, and are all likely near the end of their individual long-and-winding roads. Kudos to the organizers for getting them together this one time (yes, I said that right: Never before have we witnessed the ensemble music of the Beatles, Bob Dylan, Pink Floyd, the Who, the Rolling Stones and Neil Young, all of it performed at a singular event by the very musicians who wrote the music. It didn’t happen at Woodstock, Altamont, Isle of Wight, Prince’s Trust, the ‘Concert for New York’, or Live Aid, each of which lacked one or more of them). Man, I wish I could ‘a been there. However, the fact I’ve seen virtually every one of them (most on numerous occasions) lessens the blow some.
All of these musicians/acts are likely facing their mortality (except perhaps Keith Richards, who has been predicted by many soothsayers to be the sole survivor if there is ever an apocalypse). But one musician among them has been grappling with the concept for a very long time: Pete Townshend (George Harrison would have been another. And on his more recent albums, this week’s Nobel Prize winner, Bob Dylan (for literature), has tackled the topic – check out Time Out of Mind). From one of the Who’s earliest hits, “My Generation” (which includes the classic line “I hope I die before I get old”), thru Quadrophenia’s “The Punk Meets the Godfather” followed by Who By Numbers, an album which has a general underlying theme of growing older (particularly the songs “Dreaming From the Waist”, “Imagine A Man”, and “Slip Kid”), Townshend has expressed his views on the concept of aging. The Townshendian slant on this universally-accepted inevitability however, is not necessarily of a physical nature, nor does his music shift ones thinking to the afterlife (which Harrison’s music is inclined to do). No, Pete Townshend’s focus on aging has always been a state of mind: A parade of angles on the notion of ‘try to live a young-at-heart life in the here-and-now in order to resist the types of trappings that can ultimately compromise your youthful ideals and in turn make you look and feel old’.
“Slit Skirts”, off of Pete Townshend’s 1982 solo album All the Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes drives this point across as well as any music he has ever written. It also happens to be a very catchy tune (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pa_JM287Lhk). At its core, this is a song about trying to recapture the spirit of what brings love into your life after a period of foolishly letting it go. Listening to “Slit Skirts” this week, I could not help but compare/contrast my reconnection with the music as I listened this week to my original immersion into it back in 1982, when I was a young 19-year-old man who found the song and the album it was on quite fascinating. Had I slipped a notch now, falling into the prior referred-to trappings of an older man? That was the challenge for me this week: To answer that question.
“Slit Skirts” is a song about Pete Townshend and his emotional state at the still-tender age of 34 (which was in 1979, three years before he wrote the song). Somewhat ironically, that age falls just about in the middle between how old I was when I purchased the album and my age now. Why is this intriguing? Well, when I first listened, 34 seemed like a long way off. At the time it was compelling to hear Townshend’s “Slit-Skirts” song-story from that youthfully-naive perspective; I was learning something. Listening now, you would think it would be more of a “been there” affiliation with the song, which could only dull the emotions that it stirred in me all those years ago; or so one would expect.
“Slit Skirts” has a companion tune on All the Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes; that being the song that immediately precedes it, “Somebody Saved Me”. At least this is the way I’ve always heard it. The two songs sound somewhat alike and their back-to-back order on the album is apropos (together they close “Chinese Eyes”). The former is about Pete Townshend falling into that foolish period I had mentioned earlier of turning his back on love (but being saved by several entities – loosely revealed in the song - from total disaster). The latter is a song about the period immediately after when all Townshend’s attempts to get back what he had feel as if they are in vein (fortunately, Pete Townshend eventually got beyond this vicious cycle in his life).
As I listened this week, I found myself reminiscing on a certain brand of passion I had about the meaning of love back in the early 80s. By that stage, I’d already been down the road of having had love and then having lost it; a teenage hometown romance that fizzled out as growing pains piled high. At the time I’m sure I had a subliminal conception of the truism “Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all”, which was what I was going thru. Music was the best way for me to move on while trying to keep true to the importance of love in one’s life at a time when you know this, but do not have it.
And at that period in my life the album most poignant in helping me maintain my footing in this regard was All the Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes. Listening (over and over), it was obvious that Pete Townshend had been through the love/loss gauntlet. The opening track, “Stop Hurting People” was a super-charged evocation of what it means to love someone. It was poetry in music. Much of the rest of the album came across as the ramifications of not having that intense feeling of affection in your life anymore, which carried all the way to the closing number (“Slit Skirts”). It was so important (then and now) to have this music that related to what I was experiencing. “Chinese Eyes” opened my eyes to the universality of love.
The title of this week’s Big Top entry, “Slit Skirts” needs some explanation. The song steps through what can only be Pete Townshend’s relationship at the time with his wife, Karen Astley (“Jeanie” in the song): A couple that used to have a bright flame burning, but for numerous reasons (explained throughout the song and album) have allowed it to extinguish (“without your match, there is no flame”). The “Slip Kids” refrain…..
“Slit Skirts, Jeanie never wears those slit skirts
And I don’t ever wear no ripped shirts
Can’t pretend that growing older never hurts”
….. is symbolic of the carefree nature of their love for one another in better times, and then the loss of that uplifting spirit. The key line, particularly in regards to this week’s theme, is the last one: Again, the Townshendian view that growing older is a state of mind. It’s what happens to us when we have lost our way.
So back to my reconnection with this album…. can I still feel it or have I lost my way? Well I think we all meander off course at one point or another in life. We have all experienced the role of the Prodigal Son: Experience that comes with ever-increasing years tagged to life can so easily have the inevitability of polarizing us from the innocence of our youth. But I did find love again, and so could now listen to “Slit Skirts” on the other side of the age mountain with this in play too. The intensity of how I felt listening to ‘Chinese Eyes’ 35 years ago has diminished somewhat; there’s no denying that. However, that wonderful music still allows me to connect back up with those lifetime-ago feelings, at moments in deep and stirring ways, and for that I am forever grateful.
- Pete
Song: “Slit Skirts”
Album: All the Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes
Release Date: June, 1982
This past weekend was the once-in-a-lifetime “Concert in the Desert”, which took place in Coachella, California, a remote region east of Palm Springs near the Salton Sea (as in can’t_get_there_from_here; believe me, I looked into it). This was a virtual Rock and Roll ‘Dream Team’ of live acts. Bob Dylan and the Rolling Stones played full sets the first nite, followed by Neil Young and Paul McCartney the second nite and finally The Who and Roger Waters on the third nite. Ok, John Lennon was not there. Neither was George Harrison, Ringo Starr, John Entwistle, Keith Moon, Bill Wyman, Brian Jones, Mick Taylor, David Gilmour, Nick Mason, or Richard Wright. But many of their former bandmates were there, including some of the heaviest hitters in Rock and Roll history: Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Charlie Watts, Ronnie Wood, Pete Townshend, Roger Daltrey, Roger Waters, and the aforementioned Dylan, McCartney and Young.
It was pretty amazing that this event came together, considering the fact that all of these musicians are in their 6th decades as active (vs. nostalgic) performers and all have been top draw acts throughout that time, which remains the case to this day (and I mean ‘top draw’ as relates to both their influence and ticket sales). In fact, I can’t think of anyone who should have been included or excluded. In other words, if a comprehensive survey were to query long-time rock fans to list their personal top 100 rock acts in order, these six (in the case of Paul McCartney and Roger Waters, I refer to the bands they are primarily associated with, those of course being the Beatles and Pink Floyd respectively) would most likely percolate to the top. * Side Note: I guess I’m pretty proud of the fact that this series of yearly blogs that I am writing focuses on five of the six acts that played at Coachella (Pink Floyd could eventually be a nice added touch, as could another outstanding stalwart, the Kinks. But I’d have to come up to speed a bit more if I am to write about either of these bands for an entire year).
Yes, these musicians have been around a----long----time, and are all likely near the end of their individual long-and-winding roads. Kudos to the organizers for getting them together this one time (yes, I said that right: Never before have we witnessed the ensemble music of the Beatles, Bob Dylan, Pink Floyd, the Who, the Rolling Stones and Neil Young, all of it performed at a singular event by the very musicians who wrote the music. It didn’t happen at Woodstock, Altamont, Isle of Wight, Prince’s Trust, the ‘Concert for New York’, or Live Aid, each of which lacked one or more of them). Man, I wish I could ‘a been there. However, the fact I’ve seen virtually every one of them (most on numerous occasions) lessens the blow some.
All of these musicians/acts are likely facing their mortality (except perhaps Keith Richards, who has been predicted by many soothsayers to be the sole survivor if there is ever an apocalypse). But one musician among them has been grappling with the concept for a very long time: Pete Townshend (George Harrison would have been another. And on his more recent albums, this week’s Nobel Prize winner, Bob Dylan (for literature), has tackled the topic – check out Time Out of Mind). From one of the Who’s earliest hits, “My Generation” (which includes the classic line “I hope I die before I get old”), thru Quadrophenia’s “The Punk Meets the Godfather” followed by Who By Numbers, an album which has a general underlying theme of growing older (particularly the songs “Dreaming From the Waist”, “Imagine A Man”, and “Slip Kid”), Townshend has expressed his views on the concept of aging. The Townshendian slant on this universally-accepted inevitability however, is not necessarily of a physical nature, nor does his music shift ones thinking to the afterlife (which Harrison’s music is inclined to do). No, Pete Townshend’s focus on aging has always been a state of mind: A parade of angles on the notion of ‘try to live a young-at-heart life in the here-and-now in order to resist the types of trappings that can ultimately compromise your youthful ideals and in turn make you look and feel old’.
“Slit Skirts”, off of Pete Townshend’s 1982 solo album All the Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes drives this point across as well as any music he has ever written. It also happens to be a very catchy tune (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pa_JM287Lhk). At its core, this is a song about trying to recapture the spirit of what brings love into your life after a period of foolishly letting it go. Listening to “Slit Skirts” this week, I could not help but compare/contrast my reconnection with the music as I listened this week to my original immersion into it back in 1982, when I was a young 19-year-old man who found the song and the album it was on quite fascinating. Had I slipped a notch now, falling into the prior referred-to trappings of an older man? That was the challenge for me this week: To answer that question.
“Slit Skirts” is a song about Pete Townshend and his emotional state at the still-tender age of 34 (which was in 1979, three years before he wrote the song). Somewhat ironically, that age falls just about in the middle between how old I was when I purchased the album and my age now. Why is this intriguing? Well, when I first listened, 34 seemed like a long way off. At the time it was compelling to hear Townshend’s “Slit-Skirts” song-story from that youthfully-naive perspective; I was learning something. Listening now, you would think it would be more of a “been there” affiliation with the song, which could only dull the emotions that it stirred in me all those years ago; or so one would expect.
“Slit Skirts” has a companion tune on All the Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes; that being the song that immediately precedes it, “Somebody Saved Me”. At least this is the way I’ve always heard it. The two songs sound somewhat alike and their back-to-back order on the album is apropos (together they close “Chinese Eyes”). The former is about Pete Townshend falling into that foolish period I had mentioned earlier of turning his back on love (but being saved by several entities – loosely revealed in the song - from total disaster). The latter is a song about the period immediately after when all Townshend’s attempts to get back what he had feel as if they are in vein (fortunately, Pete Townshend eventually got beyond this vicious cycle in his life).
As I listened this week, I found myself reminiscing on a certain brand of passion I had about the meaning of love back in the early 80s. By that stage, I’d already been down the road of having had love and then having lost it; a teenage hometown romance that fizzled out as growing pains piled high. At the time I’m sure I had a subliminal conception of the truism “Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all”, which was what I was going thru. Music was the best way for me to move on while trying to keep true to the importance of love in one’s life at a time when you know this, but do not have it.
And at that period in my life the album most poignant in helping me maintain my footing in this regard was All the Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes. Listening (over and over), it was obvious that Pete Townshend had been through the love/loss gauntlet. The opening track, “Stop Hurting People” was a super-charged evocation of what it means to love someone. It was poetry in music. Much of the rest of the album came across as the ramifications of not having that intense feeling of affection in your life anymore, which carried all the way to the closing number (“Slit Skirts”). It was so important (then and now) to have this music that related to what I was experiencing. “Chinese Eyes” opened my eyes to the universality of love.
The title of this week’s Big Top entry, “Slit Skirts” needs some explanation. The song steps through what can only be Pete Townshend’s relationship at the time with his wife, Karen Astley (“Jeanie” in the song): A couple that used to have a bright flame burning, but for numerous reasons (explained throughout the song and album) have allowed it to extinguish (“without your match, there is no flame”). The “Slip Kids” refrain…..
“Slit Skirts, Jeanie never wears those slit skirts
And I don’t ever wear no ripped shirts
Can’t pretend that growing older never hurts”
….. is symbolic of the carefree nature of their love for one another in better times, and then the loss of that uplifting spirit. The key line, particularly in regards to this week’s theme, is the last one: Again, the Townshendian view that growing older is a state of mind. It’s what happens to us when we have lost our way.
So back to my reconnection with this album…. can I still feel it or have I lost my way? Well I think we all meander off course at one point or another in life. We have all experienced the role of the Prodigal Son: Experience that comes with ever-increasing years tagged to life can so easily have the inevitability of polarizing us from the innocence of our youth. But I did find love again, and so could now listen to “Slit Skirts” on the other side of the age mountain with this in play too. The intensity of how I felt listening to ‘Chinese Eyes’ 35 years ago has diminished somewhat; there’s no denying that. However, that wonderful music still allows me to connect back up with those lifetime-ago feelings, at moments in deep and stirring ways, and for that I am forever grateful.
- Pete
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