Trying to Cause a Big Sensation
A Floyd Fan's Introduction to Pete Townshend
If we're going to talk about Pete Townshend, I need you to forget everything you know. Forget about Tommy. Forget about that 'Teenage Wasteland' song. Forget about Kenney Jones (if you can). Forget it all. Because chances are, you probably only know about Townshend's career from the few overexposed tracks that radio has chosen to spotlight over the years. And while there's nothing wrong with those, let's try to shine a light into the darker corners of the man's admittedly extensive career, especially ones that may be of interest to the average Floyd fan.
But the question arises: Why do this at all? Why bother bringing further attention to an artist whose life and career are already, by most accounts, overexposed anyway? Obviously, there's the David Gilmour connection (see About Face, if you haven't already), but there's something else there, which I may have already tipped my hat to with my use of the word "artist." Few, if any performers, have remained as open and honest about their life as an artist and performer as Townshend. His history has been very public, not just because he happens to be a member of a famous pop group, nor because he craves the spotlight like, say, your Jennifer Lopezes, but because he feels he has something to say about the human condition and the journey of the artist that his audience can gain from.
To wit, witness the incredibly personal diary entries that he posts on his official website . These are not merely Bridget Jones-esque cataloguing of details or superficial ruminations on the events of the day, but rather brutally honest, in-depth discussions of the issues and ideas that his work and life bring to the fore. For example, here's his rebuke of those who denounced the sale of the Who's Next track "Bargain" to advertise Nissan cars:
The Who were made big by their fans. But sadly, despite the enormous sums lavished on us, because of punitive U.K. taxes in our most exhaustively active years (98% at one point!), our fans didn't make us rich - not directly. If we are wealthy today it is because of the success of various major secondary 'Tommy' ventures, sponsorship during our 1982 Farewell and 1989 anniversary tours, TV and radio commercial and movie soundtrack licensing - and finally, back catalogue CD sales stimulated by the latter.
My music is my music. I am a song-writer. I sell songs. I started my life - in a sense - selling songs to a band called The Who. It might confuse some people that I also happened to be a member of the band. But where I stand, I know the long-term artistic consequences of that better than anyone. There's a lot more I could say. If anyone else takes as much offence to the Nissan commercial as the writer above then tough. The till is closed.
Disagree with him if you like, but at least he explains his reasoning. The man is not one to back down, nor one afraid to admit fault or failure. You could almost sense the overwhelming frustration when Townshend was unable to openly discuss his recent child pornography arrest. When he was effectively cleared some months later, a flood of words poured forth detailing his anguish at the mistakes he made, his private turmoil, and the value of those who supported him during the ordeal. While few, if any, of us will ever manage the heights (and, yes, depths) that Townshend has seen during his life, it is inspiring to see a man not only conquer them in full view of the world, but also revel in the chance to share those experiences with others. And this journey is actively explored in his music.
But enough of talk of Townshend's life; what about the music? Let's start at the beginning. And the timing couldn't be better, since The Who Sings My Generation just got a spiffy new re-release, thanks to newly patched relations with original producer Shel Talmy (who gave the boys a bit of a raw deal in their first contracts, which The Who has resented ever since). The new 2-disc "Deluxe Edition" release takes the original album and adds nearly a disc and a half worth of bonus tracks, featuring the band in their rawest form, all with some stunning new stereo mixes. There are enough "hits" to keep casual fans interested, and some of the lesser-known originals hint at the promise of later years, but the R&B covers that were the group's bread and butter in the early days are just tedious and today resemble a prehensile tail that has lost its purpose, but hasn't been evolved away. The band had grown by leaps and bounds by the second album, A Quick One, which offers the famous first hint at the concept album direction the band would soon take with the title track, which is little more than a handful of tunes awkwardly joined together. However, the innovation was that they had a narrative thread.
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Another quantum leap comes with the next album, The Who Sell Out, which predates Roger Waters' pirate radio concept by nearly two decades, managing to do so with more humor and better songs than Waters did. "I Can See for Miles" is undoubtedly a classic, and "Mary Anne With the Shaky Hand" is a lesser-known gem. But for my money, the band was still struggling with maturity, as evidenced by jokey lyrics and filler tunes. Still, many fans swear that The Who would never produce a better album than this, though I suspect that many of them are just latching on to a decent Who album that hasn't been overplayed by the radio for indie cred.
For overplayed albums, you can't get much more overplayed than the next record, Tommy, which remains the most famous work The Who ever put out. As such, I'll skip the review and hints at brilliant overshadowed tracks (although it's worth noting that an(other) excellent "Deluxe Edition" with an entire disc of rarities, alternate versions and demos was just released). However, one matter bears addressing: the plot. Admit it, at first glance, Tommy is downright silly. A blind, deaf-mute starts a cult based on pinball and becomes a messiah? Pardon? Even Roger, at the heights of his KAOS silliness, couldn't top that one. But the mistake is in taking the story too literally. Tommy is meant a metaphor for individual spiritual awakening, something most casual listeners miss. Sure, it can be appreciated on other levels, and, yes, the pinball aspect was added to appease an influential music critic, but appreciation of the work hinges on that understanding.
And then we get to Live at Leeds, the most-lauded (and deservedly so) live album ever released. To hear Leeds is to witness the band at their performing height. Keith Moon's drumming has to be heard to be believed. No other drummer could manage his manic style and still keep time. John Entwistle's virtuosity is in full effect, as are the talents of Roger Daltrey and Townshend himself. If there is any doubt in your mind about where to start in The Who's catalogue, Leeds is the place. You simply can't go wrong. (There are currently two editions widely available: One is the complete concert on two discs, the other is a single-disc version missing most of Tommy. Either one will suffice, but once you hear the single disc version, you will likely find yourself wanting the rest.)
The live power of Leeds followed the band into the studio for their best-known collection of tunes, Who's Next, the vast majority which is familiar to anyone who has listened to classic rock radio for any length of time. The tracks from this disc have been played so much that it's easy to gloss over how revolutionary they were at the time, and they wouldn't have survived such overexposure if they weren't rock solid (pardon the pun) to begin with. I highly recommend the DVD "Classic Albums: Who's Next," which offers a fascinating vision of the album's construction, allowing us all to listen to the awe-inspiring components of the whole. My personal favorite moment: Townshend relating the trance he went into while recording the synthesizer for "Won't Get Fooled Again". You'll never listen to that song the same way again...
Next we come to the largely-overlooked gem in the Who catalogue, Quadrophenia, hands-down my favorite Who album, and essential to anyone who enjoys mid-period Pink Floyd (particularly fans of The Wall). Tommy is an album that nearly breaks under the strain of its scope. Townshend was not nearly as accomplished a composer as the material required, leading to some lyrical absurdities and compositional weak-spots. Not so in Quadrophenia, which weaves together themes and motifs into a cohesive whole. (It doesn't hurt that the concept is more grounded in reality than its predecessor was.) It's too bad that performances never quite captured its grandeur, at least not until the 1996 revival tour. The album swerves from unforgiving proto-heavy metal to complex instrumentals to impassioned ballads without missing a beat. (Thanks, Moon.) The album was originally intended to be released in a quadrophonic mix, but technical specifications weren't up to Pete's standards, and the album only ever saw release in plain ol' stereo (which still manages to sound magnificent on the 1990s remixed CD). Fortunately, next year should see the release of a surround sound mix on high-definition format (SACD and/or DVD-Audio). I, for one, can't wait.
Alcoholism and the pressures of the music business had begun to take its toll on Townshend, and the strain showed in the next album, The Who By Numbers, which has been likened to a "musical suicide note." This is a lesson in juxtaposition: the music upbeat and springy, the lyrics as depressing as anything Townshend ever wrote. Minus the poppy single, "Squeeze Box". Still, these are not emotions unfamiliar to the Floyd, and it can be a rewarding experience, if only because it occupies such a neglected period in the band's canon.
Finally, we arrive at Keith's swan song, the patchy Who Are You. Pete too often falls into hippy-dippy paeans to New Age fluff, but the title song and the unyielding songwriting contributions of John Entwistle rescue the album. Still, it marks the band either in a transitional phase or at the end of its relevance. As we all know, any course was interrupted by the death of Moon and the perhaps misguided insistence upon continuing without him. As such, 1981's Face Dances is nearly a complete wash, with only the hit "You Better You Bet" truly making any impact. Eagles producer Bill Szymczyk's influence is all over this one, resulting in an overproduced, diluted album that is best ignored.
However, for my money, the Who's final studio album, 1982's It's Hard, contains some of the best tunes Townshend ever penned. Half of the album is utter crap, but the remaining half is simply brilliant. The one-two punch of "Eminence Front" and "I've Known No War" are not to be missed, nearly conjuring the power of the band during its Who's Next height. "A Man is a Man" and "It's Your Turn" are both superior tunes, but this album is still unfairly ignored, perhaps because Townshend himself had turned his attention away from the band to focus on his own career as a solo artist. But there are few more direct and musically solid examinations of baby boomer nuclear paranoia out there, and this one is worth a listen, particularly for Floyd fans. However, you may want to take advantage of your CD player's skip feature.
Townshend's first solo album had actually been released back in the seventies. Who Came First largely consisted of demo recordings from the scuttled Lifehouse project (which morphed into Who's Next, more later) and pared-down home recordings, making this an album for completists only. This also goes for the more enjoyable and original Rough Mix, created in tandem with the Faces' Ronnie Lane, which is enjoyable exactly for its un-polished origins. Lots of acoustic guitars and playful interplay with Lane. An often overlooked diamond in the rough in Townshend's catalogue.
Sadly, Townshend's solo '80s output would have no such rough edges, but then, this was the decade of New Wave. This is not to say that the albums are without their charms, just falling quite often on the side of overproduced. 1980's Empty Glass is not far removed musically from The Who's 80s output, but moves into new territory lyrically. Townshend seems unafraid to experiment, which means that, again, some of the tunes just fall flat, which goes double for his next records, All the Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes and The Iron Man. The good songs, though, are worth checking out. More casual fans, however, might want to snap up Coolwalkingsmoothtalkingstraightsmokingfirestoking, the indispensable 1996 solo "best-of" collection.
Floyd fans, however, will take particular interest in two of Townshend's solo albums of this era, Deep End Live and White City, both of which feature one David Gilmour on guitar. Deep End is Townshend in fine form, picking an eclectic mix of tunes from both his career and his record collection. Gilmour's contribution is largely nondistinct; if you didn't know it was him, you might never have guessed. Which is not to say it's bad, he is merely fulfilling the job of sideman. On White City, however, he really gets the chance to shine, starting with the "Run Like Hell"-esque guitar of "Give Blood" and the catchy "White City Fighting", which Gilmour co-wrote. White City has a surprising number of excellent tunes, but the album never quite coalesces. Perhaps it needed a second disc to fill out the narrative, or perhaps just more Dave. It's hard to say.
Townshend went on to produce one more concept album, 1993's Psychoderelict, which has its roots in his abandoned Lifehouse album, which formed the basis of Who's Next. Several of the synthesizer experiments for that album even make it onto this release. While Townshend packs the tunes with hummable melodies, the work collapses under the weight of the pretentious decision to have actors act out a story between (and even sometimes, annoyingly, during) the music. Notably, Pete rocks harder here than he has since his Who days, perhaps in a signal that he was out to reclaim that legacy, but if you do decide to pick up this one, stick with the "Music Only" version, which leaves out the dialogue.
Looking to go back to the Lifehouse well one last time, Townshend put out his Lifehouse box set via his commercial website . This six-disc monstrosity (pared down to a single, greatest hits-type disc called Elements) features all the demos, a radio dramatization, remixes and a disc of classical interpretations. Not intended for the beginner, this is one for those who are looking to delve deeper, provided you can get past the price tag.
As far as studio albums go, this wraps up the output of Townshend with and without The Who, but this misses a considerable part of the picture. The albums that get the most play in my CD player are the live albums. Through eelpie.com , Pete has released several concerts of varying content and length, ranging from a live performance of Lifehouse with a full orchestra and band to a small acoustic performance. While Townshend's willingness to reinterpret and rearrange his music does not rival Dylan or the Grateful Dead, he does some surprisingly effective twists on old favorites. Freed from the bombast of The Who, Pete is free to display the compositional prowess that made him one of this century's most acclaimed songwriters. For me, these live albums boil down the essence of Townshend's career: a willingness to take risks, surprising depth and range, and a desire to connect.
Oh, and did I mention damned fine songs?