(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)
Song: “Boris the
Spider”
Album: A Quick One
Release Date: December,
1966
There was a short period in my early to mid-20s when I shared with
my brother Joe (and separately, college friend Bouv) a rather morbid sense of
humor (also referred to as gallows humor).
Occasionally Joe and I dip our feet back into that bizarre, twisted
world, which never fails to give us one or two belly laughs, but these days
it’s for the most part a rehashing of old material. Back in the 80s however, we were in major fresh-idea
mode (a good window-sample of where our heads were at: We concocted an alternate-world scenario
where the psychotic killer in the first Dirty
Harry movie, along with Jason from Friday
the 13th, and our own creation “Laughing Boy”, hijack the Los
Angeles Lakers charter plane on its way back from Boston after their
devastating 1984 World Championship loss to the Celtics, and force Kareem, Magic
and friends to sing the Boston Celtics Theme Song over and over again). In our musings we would include dialog and sound
effects, such as chain saws, swinging hatchets, poison darts, blow torches,
pipe bombs, rolling heads and flying body parts. Not much was too demented for our imaginations
(I suppose you could say we predated South
Park in this regard).
This humor was pretty unique to Joe and me in our circles. Few could relate to us for very long when we
morphed into this mode, including our very own siblings. Quite often we would find the crowd around us
thinning out, our friends and family off to other conversations, leaving the
two of us (and sometimes brother-in-law Dale when he was feeling it) to our own
devices. It was not so much that they
were repulsed; they just didn’t get it. This
had no effect on us. We knew we had a
good thing going and so we would continue to run with it, coming up with one
outrageous thought after another (I recall on one occasion carrying on our
crazed humor into the wee hours outside on my parent’s front steps).
John Entwistle had the same macabre sense of humor, which he
expressed in his songs. From “My Wife”,
about a very angry spouse out for revenge (“Gonna
buy a tank and an aeroplane, when she catches up with me won’t be no time to
explain”) to “Ted End” about a poor sod who’s funeral goes unattended, to
“You’re Mine” about the devilish fate of someone who drowns cats, whips horses,
and robs old woman, to “905” about the emotionless state of a humanoid, to
“Cousin Kevin” about a masochistic relative, to “Uncle Ernie” about a dirty-minded
one, and finally to this week’s Big Top entry “Boris the Spider” about the
abject fear of an arachnophobe and how he takes it out on a poor defenseless 8-legged creepy-crawler (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8dSBWysmnM). Many of Entwistle’s
solo-album titles and covers reflected this warped imagination too; from1971’s Smash Your Head Against the Wall, (the
first solo effort by a member of the Who) to Whistle Rhymes, to Rigor
Mortis Sets In (one of my all-time
favorite album titles).
What explains this dark fixation that John Entwistle, Joe, Bouv
and I have connected with at various times in our lives (you can add Alice
Cooper, Vincent Price, Alfred Hitchcock, Stephen King, Elvira and many others to
this list as well)? In terms of
Entwistle, from all I’ve read, it had nothing to do with his personality, which
was the type that Pete Townshend looked up to: The Ox being in many ways the
big brother Pete never had. This was
simply his sense of humor. As for the
rest of us, I don’t believe this humor reflects on our core values either,
which had me scratching my head a bit as I took on these thoughts earlier this
week. And so I ended up doing something
atypical of these entries: A little research on the matter. It turns out that laughing at the macabre and
absurd is for most of those of us who do it, a coping mechanism: A way to deal with the sad reality of the darkest
and most hapless extremes in human nature, and a way to get a grip on some of our
deepest fears. With this new
perspective, I now believe Joe and I just had to get this morbid humor out of
our system as we transitioned into the working adult world (that period being
one of the toughest and stressful transitions any of us make in our lives).
I find John Entwistle’s sense of humor and his personality in general
very interesting in relation to how he fit into the Who as a bandmate. In his insightful review of Smash Your Head Against the Wall, John
Swenson, writing for Crawdaddy
observed “In the complex character
interplay that makes up the Who dialect, Entwistle was always the dark horse
who worked in a strange way opposite to the direction of the other members of
the group”. I read this for the
first time last week (in the liner notes to my brand new purchase of Smash Your Head) and said to myself “right
on!” Roger Daltrey and even Keith Moon
would occasionally genuflect to the genius of Pete Townshend, but not
Entwistle. John admired Pete, but as far as I can tell he did not once ever put
him on a pedestal.
This fascinating relationship I always sensed and I could too
envision how important it was toward what made the Who unique, and toward what
it was that made them tick. John
Entwistle helped to keep things balanced in the band through his equal-footing approach
to Pete Townshend. Without his attitude,
the group would have been top heavy like so many others. Unlike Townshend, Entwistle rarely tried to
tackle big-world problems or spiritual soul searching, or deep concepts or
personal crisis in his songs. He did not
try to emulate his prolific bandmate in any way really. The Ox beat to his own drum, and in doing so
contributed profoundly to the extremely unique dynamics of the Who.
At some
point in their career - probably around the production of Tommy in 1969 - John Entwistle came to the realization that the Who
was Pete Townshend’s band in terms of songwriting. Townshend’s composition style fit the Who
much better than Entwistle’s, the number two songwriter in the band, which must
have been very difficult for him to accept at first (although, the Ox once
admitted that he wrote in a style for himself where Townshend wrote in a style for
the band). But the really cool (and
historically significant) end game in this saga was that Enty never left the group,
despite his abundance of God-given musical talents and a desire to write music primarily
for himself. Yes, the money and fame had
much to do with this I am certain, but there was much more to it. John Entwistle knew that the Who had captured
lightning in a bottle after years of working hard together and he was not about
to disrupt that. Indeed, the truth of
the matter with the Who was, if any member had broken away, the whole structure
would collapse. But keep with it like each
of them did (right up until Keith Moon’s death), and the sky was the
limit. All four band members sacrificed
something of themselves in the process, with Entwistle’s sacrifices being the
clearest of them all to Who fans.
The complexities of the relationships in the Who remind me of my
own complex relationships; the interplay between friends in my handful of
friendships (home, college, Canada) are replete with dynamism, as too with my
family. My hometown neighborhood crew of
eight for example is made up of personality traits that include intellectual
curiosity, bravado, quiet fortitude, slapstick, book smarts, street smarts,
stamina, generosity, extroversion and introversion. How much of this that gets tossed into the
soup kettle on any given gathering can tilt the scales in any number of
directions related to our unique cocktail-blend of personas.
My sibling dynamic is even more interesting. As the oldest of six, I do not always play
the part. Everyone has a strong lead role
in the family. There’s not a weak link
in the bunch. Despite the fact that I
don’t always aspire to the more traditional roles of ‘big brother’, I still find
a responsibility to my standing as the first born. Many oldest siblings set the stage for their
younger brothers and sisters in the standard-bearer ways of what it means to be
successful: Big house, big car, big income, doctor, lawyer, architect, etc. Not me (and I’m proud to never have put that kind
of pressure on my siblings to follow suit, seeing as those types of ambitions for
me would have been misguided because they do not reflect who I am). But I do like to think that when I am at my
best, I can be a role model in many other more important ways; through patience,
kindness, understanding, faith, listening more than talking, minimalism, interest
in the outdoors, dependability, humbleness, concern for the environment, modesty (in my mind a requirement for a civil servant), and
yes, bizarre humor (which I find myself adjusting happily to each sibling’s
comedic tastes in ways that reflect mine) are but some of my priorities. I do not always get it right, but these are the
kinds of ideals I try to portray and convey in my role as big brother.
This is a key reason why I can relate to John Entwistle,
particularly in regards to how he interacted with Pete Townshend. As a big
bother figure to Townshend, Enty let him do his thing. The Ox played by the rules and contributed
his enormous talents to something which he knew he had to take a second fiddle
to. The only other examples I can think
of in Rock and Roll bands is how older brother Tom Fogerty relented to the
songwriting skills of his younger brother John in Creedence Clearwater Revival and
how Band founder Levon Helm eventually bowed to the talents of Robbie Robertson
(although in both of these case the long-term reaction was a quite a bit more
acerbic than it was with John Entwistle).
Of all the great songs the Who have performed live over their many
years of touring, “Boris the Spider”, with that heavy bass sound and John
Entwistle’s exaggerated, eerie baritone vocals, was astoundingly the most
requested of the bunch. This must have
made ‘big brother’ John Entwistle proud.
He stuck to who he was, and in the process helped make the Who who they
were. This all had an eye-opening effect
on my younger 20-something self; seeing a stoic, solid, quiet, rock-of-a-man,
and knowing that it was ok to sprinkle that trait with a little morbid pixie dust
every once in a while for a well needed bit of stress release.
- Pete
Saturday, November 19, 2016
Saturday, November 12, 2016
Under the Big Top # 45: “Wash Over Me”
(Personal reflections inspired by Who songs)
Song: “Drowned”
Album: Quadrophenia
Release Date: October, 1973
Of the multitude of songs Pete Townshend has penned in a long and fruitful career of songwriting, “Drowned” appears to be a personal favorite of his (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_NM8387dDQ). This week I decided to take this educated insight of mine a bit more seriously and allow the song to wash over me in ways I never had before, seeing as Quadrophenia has so many tremendous tunes that “Drowned” can often get lost in my own personal zeroing in (or a more apt term might be that it can get “drowned out”). This is not to say that I have neglected to peck away at it over the years: When Mr. Townshend himself decides to sing and play a song solo at the piano during a Who show - a song that the rest of the band contributed to on the original album - and adds lines such as “I want to drown in your sweet, sweet love”, you tend to get a bit more curious.
To the analogy of ‘washing over’, this is not a random choice of phrase here (though it did come to me subconsciously), seeing as it is consistent to what the deeply spiritual lyrics are attempting to convey through imagery. Much like Pete Townshend’s solo number “The Sea Refuses No River” (see Big Top # 13: “Poetry in Fluid Motion”) “Drowned” is jam-packed with references to moving water. However, where the lyrics to “The Sea Refuses Know River” keep us in a series of abstract rivers (with varying water – read: human - quality), “Drowned” is all over our watery world; the falling rain, a train’s boiler, the tear in a baby’s eye, rippling over canyons, etc. The song’s lyrics even go into the sea itself (and also allude to our free will to want to get to it). What’s so cool about all this? Well, the moving water is suggestive as a metaphor for us all, the sea as a metaphor for God, and with the powerful symbolic lyrics as a whole clearly evoking the rite of Baptism (the washing away of sin and renewal of spirit), the song itself appears to be a metaphor for redemption.
It may or may not be a coincidence in terms of this Who series, but this year has been a revitalizing one for my faith (which, in bracing for the ramifications of this week’s election over the foreseeable future, will be sorely needed). I kind of anticipated that coming into it back in January. My first two series on the Rolling Stones and Neil Young were short on spiritual undertones because these musicians do not have much of it in their repertoire. But with Pete Townshend (and up next Bob Dylan and then George Harrison with the Beatles) I knew I was going to be delving into the deeper meanings of life. It’s one of the main reasons I saved the Who, Dylan and the Beatles for the homestretch: A ramping up to more serious topics. In hindsight, I can see now that I could not help but have it all rub off on my own spirituality when I immerse myself into songs like “Don’t Let Go the Coat”, The Sea Refuses No River”, “Bargain”, “Keep Me Turning”, and “Drowned” to the degree I need to in order to write these blog entries.
“Drowned” illuminates the beauty of faith in so many wonderful ways. It allows you to imagine yourself as a drop of water, yearning to get back to the sea where you once belonged. You are surrounded by other drops of water – family, friends, acquaintances – who are on similar quests. The ‘drowning’ is letting go of your fears, doubts and insecurities (in this case, those of the flawed ‘hero’ of Quadrophenia, Jimmy the mod). Pete Townshend once stated that this song almost stands on its own, detached from the rest of the double-record storyline. I can see his point, but it’s also fine just where it is: The meaning of “Drowned” being the only real solution to the torment inside of a troubled soul.
The physical sea is ubiquitous in Quadrophenia (including background sound effects of waves throughout), and so the analogy of it to God is perfect (which has me understanding more why my Dad is so drawn to it). The entirety of sides three and four of this concept album take place at the England seaside resort town of Brighton. It is here that Jimmy fleas to from his working class London home, where his life is unravelling (on sides one and two). It is here things get worse before they get better (see the “Bellboy” entry: Big Top # 25), and it is here Jimmy finally comes to grips (and in turn at peace) with his plight.
The Who were on fire for the production of Quadrophenia. It’s astounding to listen to the results, which get recognized more and more by the critics with each passing year. Even the Rolling Stones, a band not known for singing the praises of another contemporary band, had to admit there was something special going on here. They hosted the Who in their mobile studio (which they used the previous year for their opus Exile on Main Street) for some of the recording of Quadrophenia. I believe this was to see genius play out first hand: Townshend’s masterful concept, centered on struggle, love and redemption, likely being the inspiration that allowed the band to shift it into an extraordinary gear.
In his excellent (but dated) book The Who: An Illustrated Biography, Chris Charlesworth opens with a short introduction to each member of the band. Up first of course is Pete Townshend. After discussing his lifestyle as a city dweller, he hones in on the deep-thinker aspect of his persona and closes with the sentence “He has to be careful not to preach, but there is a lot that can be learned from this man”. This was the first book I ever read about the Who (it was a cornerstone on my lobster-trap coffee table on Lake Street in Waltham for many years), and so these lines were my foray into the thinking of others with similar insights about Townshend. The sentence has two angles, starting with a slight caution, but finishing with a positive truth. If it were the other way around, it would not be as correct, nor have the same impact.
Pete Townshend is a humble man, and would be the first to admit to the beginning of that sentence. In fact, at one point in the 80s he recommended that his loyalties to his own faith be curtailed in their public prominence due to his personal transgressions. The second part is what us Who fans primarily focus on however, because despite those transgressions (or maybe even because of them) Townshend has been able to connect with both our own foibles as well as our lofty hopes and aspirations.
Rock and Roll has been a major conduit for my connection to my Catholic faith. For the generations that preceded this musical genre, the pulsating beat can belie the honesty behind the music, which often comes from deep spiritual sources of inspiration. “Drowned” is on a pedestal in this regard: A moving tribute to the glory of God.
* This entry is dedicated to Leonard Cohen, a master maestro and true ‘seeker’, and my good friend's Mom, Louis Hedtler, a kind and caring woman, both of whom passed away earlier this week
- Pete
Song: “Drowned”
Album: Quadrophenia
Release Date: October, 1973
Of the multitude of songs Pete Townshend has penned in a long and fruitful career of songwriting, “Drowned” appears to be a personal favorite of his (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_NM8387dDQ). This week I decided to take this educated insight of mine a bit more seriously and allow the song to wash over me in ways I never had before, seeing as Quadrophenia has so many tremendous tunes that “Drowned” can often get lost in my own personal zeroing in (or a more apt term might be that it can get “drowned out”). This is not to say that I have neglected to peck away at it over the years: When Mr. Townshend himself decides to sing and play a song solo at the piano during a Who show - a song that the rest of the band contributed to on the original album - and adds lines such as “I want to drown in your sweet, sweet love”, you tend to get a bit more curious.
To the analogy of ‘washing over’, this is not a random choice of phrase here (though it did come to me subconsciously), seeing as it is consistent to what the deeply spiritual lyrics are attempting to convey through imagery. Much like Pete Townshend’s solo number “The Sea Refuses No River” (see Big Top # 13: “Poetry in Fluid Motion”) “Drowned” is jam-packed with references to moving water. However, where the lyrics to “The Sea Refuses Know River” keep us in a series of abstract rivers (with varying water – read: human - quality), “Drowned” is all over our watery world; the falling rain, a train’s boiler, the tear in a baby’s eye, rippling over canyons, etc. The song’s lyrics even go into the sea itself (and also allude to our free will to want to get to it). What’s so cool about all this? Well, the moving water is suggestive as a metaphor for us all, the sea as a metaphor for God, and with the powerful symbolic lyrics as a whole clearly evoking the rite of Baptism (the washing away of sin and renewal of spirit), the song itself appears to be a metaphor for redemption.
It may or may not be a coincidence in terms of this Who series, but this year has been a revitalizing one for my faith (which, in bracing for the ramifications of this week’s election over the foreseeable future, will be sorely needed). I kind of anticipated that coming into it back in January. My first two series on the Rolling Stones and Neil Young were short on spiritual undertones because these musicians do not have much of it in their repertoire. But with Pete Townshend (and up next Bob Dylan and then George Harrison with the Beatles) I knew I was going to be delving into the deeper meanings of life. It’s one of the main reasons I saved the Who, Dylan and the Beatles for the homestretch: A ramping up to more serious topics. In hindsight, I can see now that I could not help but have it all rub off on my own spirituality when I immerse myself into songs like “Don’t Let Go the Coat”, The Sea Refuses No River”, “Bargain”, “Keep Me Turning”, and “Drowned” to the degree I need to in order to write these blog entries.
“Drowned” illuminates the beauty of faith in so many wonderful ways. It allows you to imagine yourself as a drop of water, yearning to get back to the sea where you once belonged. You are surrounded by other drops of water – family, friends, acquaintances – who are on similar quests. The ‘drowning’ is letting go of your fears, doubts and insecurities (in this case, those of the flawed ‘hero’ of Quadrophenia, Jimmy the mod). Pete Townshend once stated that this song almost stands on its own, detached from the rest of the double-record storyline. I can see his point, but it’s also fine just where it is: The meaning of “Drowned” being the only real solution to the torment inside of a troubled soul.
The physical sea is ubiquitous in Quadrophenia (including background sound effects of waves throughout), and so the analogy of it to God is perfect (which has me understanding more why my Dad is so drawn to it). The entirety of sides three and four of this concept album take place at the England seaside resort town of Brighton. It is here that Jimmy fleas to from his working class London home, where his life is unravelling (on sides one and two). It is here things get worse before they get better (see the “Bellboy” entry: Big Top # 25), and it is here Jimmy finally comes to grips (and in turn at peace) with his plight.
The Who were on fire for the production of Quadrophenia. It’s astounding to listen to the results, which get recognized more and more by the critics with each passing year. Even the Rolling Stones, a band not known for singing the praises of another contemporary band, had to admit there was something special going on here. They hosted the Who in their mobile studio (which they used the previous year for their opus Exile on Main Street) for some of the recording of Quadrophenia. I believe this was to see genius play out first hand: Townshend’s masterful concept, centered on struggle, love and redemption, likely being the inspiration that allowed the band to shift it into an extraordinary gear.
In his excellent (but dated) book The Who: An Illustrated Biography, Chris Charlesworth opens with a short introduction to each member of the band. Up first of course is Pete Townshend. After discussing his lifestyle as a city dweller, he hones in on the deep-thinker aspect of his persona and closes with the sentence “He has to be careful not to preach, but there is a lot that can be learned from this man”. This was the first book I ever read about the Who (it was a cornerstone on my lobster-trap coffee table on Lake Street in Waltham for many years), and so these lines were my foray into the thinking of others with similar insights about Townshend. The sentence has two angles, starting with a slight caution, but finishing with a positive truth. If it were the other way around, it would not be as correct, nor have the same impact.
Pete Townshend is a humble man, and would be the first to admit to the beginning of that sentence. In fact, at one point in the 80s he recommended that his loyalties to his own faith be curtailed in their public prominence due to his personal transgressions. The second part is what us Who fans primarily focus on however, because despite those transgressions (or maybe even because of them) Townshend has been able to connect with both our own foibles as well as our lofty hopes and aspirations.
Rock and Roll has been a major conduit for my connection to my Catholic faith. For the generations that preceded this musical genre, the pulsating beat can belie the honesty behind the music, which often comes from deep spiritual sources of inspiration. “Drowned” is on a pedestal in this regard: A moving tribute to the glory of God.
* This entry is dedicated to Leonard Cohen, a master maestro and true ‘seeker’, and my good friend's Mom, Louis Hedtler, a kind and caring woman, both of whom passed away earlier this week
- Pete
Sunday, November 6, 2016
Under the Big Top # 44: “Love Undetached”
(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
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
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
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