The Who: Pure and Easy

One of the things that I love about The Who is the fact that their principal songwriter, Pete Townshend, gives you some insight about who he is at a given stage of his life. Sometimes his message is veiled in poetry and sometimes it is all too clear; sometimes there is no message beyond the considerable visceral experience of listening. Taken as a whole, the discography of the who progresses from "I hope I die before I get old" in "My Generation" to "I know you, middle age" in "It's Your Turn" (a lesser-known song from their last studio album). We witness Pete's progress from arrogant youth to enlightened spirit, naive artist to pragmatic businessman, sobriety to addiction and back again.

The band formed when Pete and his art school mate, bassist John Entwistle, hooked up with singer Roger Daltrey and a drummer whose name I forget; like the Beatles, they threw over their original drummer for another, the certifiable Keith Moon. Under the guidance of manager Kit Lambert, they capitalized on the Mod youth movement in early-'60s England (making them direct rivals of The Rolling Stones, who appealed to the "Rockers" with whom the Mods held gang wars). They were originally called The High Numbers, indicating their status in the Mod heirarchy; being ostensibly Mods themselves, members of The Who dressed fashionably, destroyed things for no apparent reason and took lots of drugs. In keeping with the male chauvenism of the movement and his own natural inclinations, Roger wanted to sing very masculine material, resulting in the band covering blues songs like "I'm A Man" or "Young Man Blues" as well as Pete's more personal material. As you might expect, his lyrical dominance in the group led to some friction; "My Generation" was provocative, but songs like "The Kids Are Alright" indicated some sensitivity alien to the Mods, who were fortunately too dim to grasp it; and what of songs like "I'm A Boy" or "Pictures Of Lily," respectively about a boy who is dressed as a girl by his mother and a boy whose father gives him old photographs to masturbate with? Roger once insisted that he be allowed to write a song for one of their albums; the song, "See My Way," is one of the worst they ever recorded.

Due in part to this friction, the group must have been very exciting in those days. Roger Daltrey, always envious of attention cast anywhere else, devised a way to bring it back to himself: gaffer-taping the base of his microphone and revolving it by a length of cable. Pete Townshend popularized his own "windmill" arm motion, changing chords on the fly, and playing the fretboard with amazing dexterity. Keith Moon ("the loon") attacked and often destroyed his drum kit, but sounded great doing it. And John Entwistle, the bassist, became known as "the rock" for anchoring the group and standing serene amid the chaos- and so he stood out as well. They soon gained attention for the undeniable quality of their music (despite Pete's protestations to the contrary) and their on-stage antics; they toured on the strength of what Pete would call their "cabaret act," racking up more hits ("Magic Bus," "Substitute," "Happy Jack," etc.)

The destructive aspects of the band may seem inconsistent with Townshend's generally soft-spoken nature and the often lyrical subject matter which expresses a desire for peace and quiet. Pete once claimed that he got the idea for smashing guitars from art school: he called it "autodestruction," which actually means that one is destroying oneself; an ironic comment considering his and the other band members' health problems today. Pete certainly has been known to express anger in his lyrics and while performing, inviting the crowd at Woodstock to try and take his guitar off him (he kicked Abbie Hoffman off the stage at the same concert). He gets into such a "zone" while performing that he may become violent if someone tries to interrupt or distract him.

What endears Pete to me is the fact that he speaks through the guitar just as he does with lyrics. Some of that "speech" is fairly obvious; the descending scale he plays as Roger sings "love, reign o'er me" implies the falling rain which is the subject of the song. Other examples are far less obvious, echoes and signatures noticeable only to those who become familiar with the band's history, music, and style of play. Like a butcher, Pete doesn't throw away a good bit of melody: the relatively mundane song "Communication" from one of his solo albums was rearranged with new lyrics to be The Who's more challenging final song ("Cry If You Want") on their final studio LP. Like any good writer, he crafts his songs at all stages of the process so that they have some depth and will reward repeated listening, still fresh and catching the ear.

Somewhere during the '60s, Pete got religion: he became a follower of Eastern prophet Meher Baba and also of rock music itself, convinced that it could help us transcend to a greater spiritual state, a sort of universal harmony. Kit Lambert encouraged Pete to develop songs on his own and just bring the demos to the group. This working method may well account for the introspective nature of many of Pete's songs. This method paid off with TOMMY, the first "rock opera," so called due to its operatic structure which pushed the limits of the young "concept album" of the '60s. Pete was under tremendous pressure to get it done and wound up recording many of the tracks himself at home, which is why the original album sounds very spare and personal in parts. TOMMY was a huge hit, drawing attention to brooding Pete and brash Daltrey, who grew his hair long and essentially played Tommy on stage for years afterward. As the group found this new plateau of commercial success, they realized that they needed a change in management and parted with Kit Lambert; producer Glyn Johns stepped in.

Pete's idea of the unifying potential of music developed into a project called LIFE HOUSE, where a stadium-sized audience would be sealed into a self-sustaining environment with the band for a year: a creative commune of sorts. Each "citizen" would be assigned a musical note or series of notes, and with the aid of the electronic keyboard and computer technology that fascinated Pete, each encounter between two or more citizens would generate music from their respective notes. This very '60s idea sounds rather like the monkeys-with-typewriters theory of literature, but it did serve as the foundation for some of The Who's most memorable music, and it left a permanent stamp on Pete's songwriting style. LIFE HOUSE was clearly never going to be achieved due to technical and logistical problems; so Pete used some of the songs and synthesizer tracks to record WHO'S NEXT, possibly their best and certainly one of their best-known albums. "Baba O'Riley" and "Won't Get Fooled Again," the biggest hits from the album, have those "communicating note" synthesizer tracks in the background.

Also notable on WHO'S NEXT is "My Wife," probably the best of the dozen John Entwistle songs that the group recorded; "Behind Blue Eyes," a ballad which Pete referred to as the theme song of the villain in LIFE HOUSE; and "Bargain," in which Pete articulates his desire to find a relationship with God. Another track, "The Song Is Over," borrows a line from a song called "Pure And Easy" which appeared on ODDS & SODS, one of their many collections of singles, B-sides and outtakes. In "Pure And Easy," Pete writes that "there once was a note, pure and easy, played so free like a breath rippling by/ the note is eternal, I hear it, it sees me, forever we blend then forever we die/ I listened and I heard music in a word/ and words when you played your guitar..": obviously another manifestation of the LIFE HOUSE idea. In "The Song Is Over," the song concludes with the first line of "Pure and Easy" in the background, indicating perhaps that Pete was giving up on the LIFE HOUSE idea. Later in his solo career, he would revive it for the PSYCHODERELICT album, in which a washed up rock star rediscovers his love of music through the innocent idealism of his youth.

Pete is the man who once wrote "I hope I die before I get old," a sentiment which haunted him as The Who rose to new heights of success in the years after TOMMY and WHO'S NEXT. The band seemed to fall into a pattern of recording, touring, breaking up for side projects, and regathering when Pete had enough songs for a new album. Even Keith Moon released a solo album, covering the Beach Boys songs and surf music that he loved (another Beach Boys track, "Barbara Ann," was covered by the whole band with Keith on vocals). They kept the spotlight on themselves with TOMMY-related projects (a performance with the London Symphony Orchestra, and later the infamous Ken Russell film), arguably the first great live album (LIVE AT LEEDS), singles collections like ODDS AND SODS and MEATY BEATY BIG AND BOUNCY, and destructive antics on an increasing scale. There had more money to spend, more drugs to take, more booze to drink, and their personal relationships continued to deteriorate, with Pete and Roger trading punches once or twice.

Despite the hurricane around them (or perhaps because of it), they recorded what I consider to be their best performance as a group and as individuals: the second rock opera, QUADROPHENIA. This time preoccupied with age and the struggle to grow up, Pete recounts the clashes between the Mods and Rockers in early-'60s England. The narrator, a confused kid named Jimmy, is prone to personality changes due to his drug use and mood swings, resulting in being thrown out of his home, attempting suicide, and integrating those personalities in a climactic final act. Unlike TOMMY, the band had whatever sophisticated recording techniques were at hand, including the failed process of quadrophonic stereo mixing: the result is an album that, despite its relatively modest subject matter, sounds superior to any other Who material. It had its share of popular hits, such as "The Real Me" and "Love, Reign O'er Me," but for my money the truly great moments are in personal musings like "Sea and Sand" and the amazing "Dr. Jimmy." As a confused late-blooming college kid, I identified strongly with this album and for a period listened to it at least once a day! While it has never gained the notoriety of TOMMY (given new life by a successful Broadway adaptation and a 1989 reunion tour), QUADROPHENIA was a hit that solidified the band's reputation as "the greatest rock and roll band in the world." They even held a Guiness world record for the loudest performance in concert. Unfortunately, it was the last great album for the original band.

In the Jeff Stein film THE KIDS ARE ALRIGHT, Townshend observes that they had "reached the end of [their] tether." Drug use in the band was at its height, and Pete suffered from depression, writing only three upbeat songs for the next album, THE WHO BY NUMBERS, the title of which implies a tiredness or regularity in the group. The rest of the songs comprise what one critic called "Pete Townshend's suicide note"; the price of fame expressed in "How Many Friends," the despair of "However Much I Booze," and the twinge of bitterness in John Entwistle's "Success Story" combine with the strange optimism of "Blue, Red and Gray" to make for a disturbing listening experience. It's a very interesting glimpse into Pete's mind, perhaps more so than most other albums, but it's a hard one to enjoy.

Fortunately, Pete got help. Two years later, the band released WHO ARE YOU, featuring less downbeat material with more lavish production, a strong synthesizer element, and a new emphasis on storytelling in quaint pieces like "Guitar and Pen," "Music Must Change," and Entwistle's "905". Tension in the band was still high but relatively productive, as shown in THE KIDS ARE ALRIGHT, which shows a recording session for the album's title track (one of the better songs from the post-QUADROPHENIA period). As Townshend said near the end of the film, the band was getting old- "not boring, though!" Things seemed to be looking up; but a week after the release of the film's soundtrack, Keith Moon died. He had drank himself to death, making more ironic the cover photo of WHO ARE YOU, in which he sits on a chair marked "not to be taken away."

The band fell apart again and so did Pete. He drank furiously and assailed the media that swarmed around the surviving members, in songs like "Jools and Jim" from his solo album EMPTY GLASS. Roger Daltrey, wisely singing songs that were written for him, had some solo hits and acted in another film or two (McVICAR and LIZSTOMANIA). John Entwistle released a couple of solo albums but they are not particularly memorable. Pete collaborated with folk singer Ronnie Lane on an album called ROUGH MIX, which includes the very interesting "Street in the City," about a man who watches people pass the wall where he leans all day. "Who's to blame for the pain?" he wonders. The Who reunited again in the studio and invited ex-Faces drummer Kenny Jones to replace Keith on drums. The resulting LP, FACE DANCES, met with great critical scorn but is one of my favourites; and it is also where I can place my introduction to the band. I became aware of rock music as a pre-teen in 1980, listening to the radio and hearing things like "You Better You Bet," a successful single from the album. Other notable songs include Entwistle's "The Quiet One" and Pete's "Cache Cache" and "Daily Records," both of which seem to indicate a desire on his part to withdraw from public life and make music by himself in his home studio. The ideals of touching the listener, as expressed years before in "Pure and Easy," seemed to be gone. A new Pete was emerging: one who sublimated his pain and wanted to, as he put it in EMPTY GLASS, "Keep On Working."

Acrimony within the band was as high as ever. Kenny Jones, in an astounding display of gall, accused Pete of keeping his best songs for his solo albums. Pete and Roger clearly could not stand each other on stage. Their last studio LP, IT'S HARD, was released almost twenty years after the band's formation; the cover photo shows the band walking or looking in different directions while a kid in the center plays a video game, clearly uninterested in the musicians. This implication that the band had gotten too old (bear in mind, this was before the revival of all things '60s later in the decade) was continued in songs like "It's Your Turn," "Eminence Front," and "Cry If You Want." The Who announced that they were breaking up and organized a couple of "farewell" tours which are represnted in the unremarkable WHO'S LAST live double LP. As far as I know, there was no flurry of lawsuits: just a long angry silence as Roger hammered away at a solo career and Pete kept to himself in the studio.

Perhaps the breakup was just what they needed. Two years later, Roger released a solo album called UNDER A RAGING MOON that had two hit singles, "Let Me Down Easy" by Bryan Adams and more significantly, "After The Fire" by Pete Townshend. The song seemed to reflect the creative energy which Pete was still feeling as the years passed, and fans speculated that the collaboration meant that a reunion was in the works; but they were wrong. A year later Pete released WHITE CITY: A NOVEL, his most successful (though probably not his best) solo album, featuring hit singles like "Give Blood," "Secondhand Love," and "Face The Face." There was a small budget film based on the album; Pete also released a book of poetry and short prose called HORSE'S NECK, and went to work part-time for the publisher. I recall those years well because I had just entered college and was just getting into The Who. By the end of my sophomore year, I had all 20+ of their albums and watched my copy of THE KIDS ARE ALRIGHT frequently. I bought the B-side collections and found some worthwhile gems in odd places. I even bought a guitar and learned to play the opening chords of "Pinball Wizard" and "Behind Blue Eyes." On my last campus radio show of 1987, I signed up for two consecutive three-hour time slots and played nothing but The Who.

And then, eventually, my interest waned. By the time the 1989 Radio City reunion was broadcast, I had fallen in love with REM (again, a few years too late); Townshend's solo album THE IRON MAN was a poor placeholder for his fans, the highlights being "I'm Not Gonna Run Anymore" and "Dig," one of two songs on the disc performed by the surviving members of The Who. Since then, The Who have been in boxed-set purgatory. Bothered by an inner ear disorder called tinnitus and from years of playing with the world's loudest rock and roll band, Pete has struggled with performing despite a severe hearing loss. After years of screaming the lyrics to some of the band's power ballads, Roger Daltrey's voice is in bad shape. If John Entwistle should lose his sight, God forbid, The Who's surviving members will be a personification of TOMMY himself!

Entwistle is touring with his own band and has just released THE ROCK, the latest of about half a dozen solo LPs. Roger's last solo album, CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THE MOVIE, fell so flat that he vowed to retire, but he has since returned for recent revivals of TOMMY, tributes to Pete, and assorted acting gigs. Townshend wisely released two double albums of demos and rare tracks called SCOOP, unearthing some very good material. He has become a master of the old rock and roll game of releasing "remastered" versions of old albums and tossing on some previously unreleased tracks so that collectors will pick them up; "the same old song with a few new lines," as he once wrote. Perhaps the epitome of this was his last solo album, PSYCHODERELICT, which combined more LIFE HOUSE outtakes with a few enjoyable new songs; even his greatest hits CD, released just a few months ago, features remixed versions of "Let My Love Open The Door," his first big solo hit from EMPTY GLASS. The maddening thing about Pete Townshend is that no matter what he does these days, I forgive him because even his worst album will have one redeeming note, one beautiful lyric that cuts through everything else and reminds you of what you always loved about him and The Who. Rock is dead, they say...