screamin' sounds: THE WHO

The Who have been a fave for so long, and so deeply entrenched that I couldn't get them out of my fave list even when I tried. No amount of disparagement would work. They stayed. Like an unwanted house guest. And I had to learn to love them all over again.

The Who have long been a major part of the Rock Geek Pantheon. Nearly always near, if not at, the top. They were a big deal with the Stoner Rock crowd I knew in high school, too. Though always behind Led Zep (of course). And there were always the rebels who truly hated them, even then.

But that was the later Who. Roger with his long ringlets of hair. Townshend bearded and mystical. Their later, artier music. Not that said music wasn't very fine nor that it didn't rock. But that was not The Who I've come most to love.

In the beginning ... That's when they really mattered. That's what all the fuss is about. Roughly `65-`66 The Who were simply the toughest rock band of the British Invasion. They hit harder than even The Kinks and The Yardbirds, had more menace than The Animals and Them. They lacked The Stones sexuality and bluesology, The Yardbirds instrumental finesse (save for John Entwistle, the Hendrix of the electric bass), Eric Burdon's or Van Morrison's or Mick's vocal abilities - they made up for all such lack with sheer firepower. And their ambition was second only to The Beatles themselves. They've been cited as the godfathers of punk, but there's a difference - they hit as hard as any punk band, but they also had skills way beyond their thrashier disciples. Their pure fury came from white rock, but their discipline came from soul and r&b. Driven by a surf-style drummer, their music hit that much harder because they knew where and when to punch for maximum impact. There was no thrashing about. The Who were in control.

Moon was the key. His drums were overpowering - all over the kit. But he was also tight. He could seize the moment away from his compadres - as he does on "I Can't Explain" with six fast shots right after the vocal pause ("I know what it means but ---- [bangbangbang!bangbangbang!] I can't explain") and again on their versions "Leaving Here" and "I'm A Man", and their own "I Can See For Miles" and all over "Happy Jack" and many more.

Townshend was the key. The intellectual. The mystic. The artiste. The auteur. It was he who penned the songs, fantasias of youthful confusion, anger, joy, sex and thrills. And he drove it with furious open chording and lightning flashes of sped-up Link Wray and John Lee Hooker licks. His piledriving chords sounded enormous, titanic. His gawky frame and outsize schnozz made him visually striking - an angry nerd taking revenge on the world for every insult he'd ever received (at the hands of guys like Roger Daltrey) with a guitar and a sneer.

Daltrey was the key. Handsome, studly. His singing wasn't much more than a growl, a callow British bad boy trying to sound like Howlin' Wolf. But it wasn't so much that he was a great singer as it was that he was a great vocal actor. When he shouted "hope I die before I get old" it sounded like he meant it. He sounded like he was quite willing, and able, to fuck you up. And wouldn't hesitate to do so. And he was Townshend's number one weapon to wield against the world. Townshend could articulate aggressive fantasies. Rog could act them out.

Entwistle was the key. The musician. Taciturn. By turning the bass into a lead instrument, he (along with Moon) forced Townshend to power the rhythm section as much as the leads.

Each stage personality modulates Daltrey at the center. Daltrey projects the grimy heart of rock and roll more purely than Townshend ever could: he is a not-too-bright tough, not much of a singer, but absolutely cocky, swinging that mike, missing sometimes and who cares. Keith Moon has the same intensity, but he is playful instead of dangerous. Townshend, on the other hand, projects the danger at a more cerebral and self-conscious level. And John Entwistle is the burgher on the other side of every J.D.: he just stands there and earns his paycheck. (Christgau)

The center cannot hold. As Townshend's came to the fore as the writer and visionary, Art began to creep into The Who. They were never the same. But their rock and roll impulses continued to overpower Townshend's arty ones, and the music remained crushing ("I Can See For Miles").

Tommy changed everything. It put Townshend in the driver's seat and the band in the Top 40. They became stars. The music lost something but retained many glories.

After that they were rock stars. Townshend tortured himself over getting old (at 28!), over failing to create a mystical experience, over becoming wealthy, over trying to come up with some grand concept, rather than doing the obvious thing and just making more music. Poor Pete. He never understood that just writing and recording a single great song is important enough. I'd trade 100 Tommy's for one "I Can't Explain".

They soldiered on, salvaging the best songs from Townshend's incoherent "Lifehouse" project into their most ambitious album yet. They created another "rock opera" - one superior to the often limpid Tommy. But it wasn't as well received. Townshend struggled with alcoholism and depression. The Who By Numbers got a mixed response. They dropped the songs from their live show and their set list consisted almost entirely of older material. But they were a major concert draw and critics still loved them. Then Moon died. They replaced him with Kenny Jones, ex Face, and did a tour that showed there was still life in the old beast. But any promise of that quickly petered out, as Townshend succumbed more and more to his personal problems, and Jones seemed to lose his mojo after `79. Then the whole band lost theirs. Then they were gone. Then they were back. Trading on past glories every few years. Entwistle died. Their star continued to fall.

In 2006 I saw them again (first time was on the desultory `82 "farewell" tour). It was free. I didn't expect much more than a fun evening rocking out to some old faves. I got a surprise. Second songs of the night was "The Seeker"(!). Townshend was leaping and stepping out on guitar ala Live At Leeds. The new songs from Endless Wire were good, and sounded strong next to their classics. They ended with a mini-Tommy set ("Amazing Journey"!), and then a wistful "Tea and Theater", Roger and Pete alone, with a guitar. It was a perfect night.

Essential Listening:

The Who Sing My Generation is my favorite single Who album. This is the original version, in its American edition (missing "I'm A Man"). It is NOT the "deluxe edition" issued a few years ago, which is an abomination - the remix strips guitars and guts out of every song). Meaty Beaty Big and Bouncy collects their great 60's pre-Tommy singles, and is their best music. Live At Leeds is the classic live Who recording and possibly the all-time great live rock album, pure firepower - this is the kind of sound the Stooges and MC5 were reaching for. The bootleg of their 1968 Fillmore East stand is also well worth hearing.

Of the other 60's albums, The Who Sell Out is beloved by many, but I find it weak. The remastered edition includes a slew of outtakes that are better than what made the original album. It's predecessor, A Quick One is a good if spotty album with some real winners in the "My Generation" mode ("Run Run Run"). Tommy is famous as hell. Most of its pretty good but it loses serious steam after Tommy becomes a messiah, and the production is thin. Live at the Isle of Wight puts across most of if with a lot more firepower.

Of the later Who, Who's Next is a great album that's been dulled a bit by overfamilarity. Quadrophenia holds up well, and is superior to Tommy. Most of what's best from the later albums can be found on the Thirty Years of Maximum R&B box. I like the recent Endless Wire album fairly well. A good Quadrophenia show from Philadelphia is well worth a listen. Also, while I had generally thought most Kenny Jones-era shows were weak, the Chicago show from 1979 is first-rate latter-day live Who.

Essential Viewing

The Kids Are Alright remains the definitive Who document, a fan-assembled scrapbook of potent live performances, TV appearances and promo films. Worth it for the Smother Brothers clip alone. Monterey Pop contains their stunning version of "My Generation" as well as many other non-Who highlights. Live At Kilburn 1977 captures Moon's next-to-last show. Originally shot for Kids and then rejected, Moon is actually in better form here. Quadrophenia doesn't even feature the band (except in a an archival clip), but adapts the album's story into coherent form and is fine, fine film in any case.

Of the many solo albums - Entwistle's Smash Your Head Against the Wall is very good; a kind of witty, clever 70's British heavy metal. Whistle Rhymes, Mad Dog and Rigor Mortis Sets In all have their moments as well. Roger's are mostly lightweight pop, but McVicar, the soundtrack to his 1979 film, is tough rock and "Waiting For A Friend" would stand up as a Who album track. Townshend's Who Came First has considerable charm, and Empty Glass is a solid rock album that stacks up better than most of their post-Quad work. My favorite though is Rough Mix, his 1977 collaboration with ex-Face Ronnie Lane. Townshend's cuts have a low-key, folkie feel, and are some of the most emotionally direct stuff he's ever done, and Ronnie Lane matches him every step of the way. Definitely my favorite Townshend solo album and my favorite Lane album as well.

Essential Reading

The Who by Gary Herman is one of the first serious rock biographies. Written not long after Tommy, it gives a good, if rather dry and academic, picture of the why the band was considered important in an era when rock music was just beginning to be taken seriously. The Who: Maximum R&B by Richard Barnes is a fairly superficial, though engaging, bio, but loaded with many rare, stunning photos - a must for the diehard Whoista. Before I Get Old by Dave Marsh remains the most comprehensive and thoughtful bio out there, though be prepared for a certain amount of Marsh righteousness towards the end (doesn't mean he was totally wrong). Won't Get Fooled Again by Riche Unterberger is a fascinating account of the "Lifehouse" debacle that led to the rest of the band's 70's career. Full Moon is an often hilarious and sometimes tragic account of life with The Loon by his paid companion, Dougal Butler. Moon: The Life and Death of A Rock Legend by Tony Fletcher is a more serious look at Moon's story. Finally, Townshend's own Who I Am is good read that offers Birdman's side of things, and a chance to feel good because, no matter how awful your adolescence was, it was still better than Pete's.