Maximum R&B: The 'Orrible 'Oo

[Susan Foreman]

Cancelled!

"After serious consideration, it is with much regret that THE WHO have postponed their UK tour, due to start next Monday March 16th in Manchester at the Manchester Arena and finishing at Wembley SSE Arena on April 8th. The fans' safety is paramount and given the developing Coronavirus situation, the band felt that they had no option but to postpone the shows.

The dates will be rescheduled for later in the year. All tickets will be honoured.

Singer Roger Daltrey assures fans that the shows will "definitely happen and it may be the last time we do a tour of this type, so keep those tickets, as the shows will be fantastic.”

Pete Townshend said the band, ”haven't reached this decision easily, but given the concerns about public gatherings, we couldn’t go ahead.” He added that “if one fan caught Coronavirus at a WHO concert it would be one too many.”

Unfortunately, THE WHO will also be unable to appear at the Royal Albert Hall on March 28th as part of the annual Teenage Cancer Trust shows, but intend to reschedule that show also, with more news to follow."

[Susan Foreman]

Rescheduled dates

[Susan Foreman]

This is quite a good list, with a number of lesser known songs included

The Who’s 20 greatest songs, ranked | The Independent

"This week should have witnessed the start of The Who’s UK tour. Instead, the band have become one of the many acts who have been affected by the coronavirus pandemic.

Now in their fifth decade as a recording act, the original quartet remain the quintessential drums, bass, guitar and vocalist rock band. The third part of the great triumvirate of English bands of the Sixties (with due respect to The Kinks), The Who were a force of nature both on stage and in the studio. Roger Daltrey was the charismatic front man, the manic Keith Moon – dwarfed by his massive drum kit – assailed his instrument, and Pete Townsend’s flailing whirlwind guitar action provided a strong visual focus. Meanwhile, laid-back bassist John Entwistle just stood and yawned while anchoring the overall sound. And it was all possible because of Pete Townsend’s wonderful songs, celebrated here on this list of the 20 greatest Who tracks.

20) “I’m a Boy” (single, 1966)

Astonishingly, for all their phenomenal achievements, The Who have never had a number one single. “I’m a Boy”, with its gender identity theme, was an unlikely No 2 smash. Full of wonderful harmonies, this quirky study of a young man who rejects his mother’s attempts to raise him as a girl is one of Townsend’s most humorous, poignant and unusual songs.

19) “Blue, Red and Grey” (The Who by Numbers, 1975)

“Blue, Red and Grey” is rarely mentioned in lists of greatest Who songs, Roger Daltrey is a big fan of this charming low-key number – the eternally self-examining Townsend less so. Composed on the ukulele during a depressed time in his life, the only other instrumentation is the Hovis advert-themed brass, as Townsend sings about the simple joys of life no matter the time of day.

18) “The Song is Over” (Who’s Next, 1971)

One of the many highlights of the masterpiece that is Who’s Next is Pete Townsend’s vocal contributions, his highly affecting lighter voice provides an effective counter balance to Daltrey’s epochal hard rock sound. The Daltrey/Townsend vocal tag-team on this beautiful ballad, rescued from the abandoned Lifehouse project, is a delight (with the lyrics possibly referring to the ending of a love affair).

17) “Young Man Blues” (Live at Leeds, 1970)

Fittingly, the band touted by many as the greatest live act of the Seventies released an album capturing everything that made them great in the concert arena. It marked the end of The Who’s first great era and heralded the beginning of a new one. The powerhouse version of Mose Allison’s “Young Man Blues” found the quartet in their absolute pomp.

16) “Pictures of Lily” (single, 1967)

A boy falls in love with a picture of a Vaudeville artist only to be told that she had died in 1929. A la Peter Ibbotson, he finds comfort in his dreams with the subject of his desires. Or as Townsend says, it could simply be about masturbation. Regardless, it’s a power-pop classic of adolescent longing.

15) “Who Are You” (Who Are You, 1978)

The title refers to a fraught meeting with covetous ex-Beatles and Rolling Stones manager, Allan Klein, prompting Townsend to go on a massive bender with Paul Cook and Steve Jones of the Sex Pistols. Alternatively proggy, hard rocking and melodious, the original quartet’s last hurrah is a fitting epitaph for Keith Moon, who died soon after it was released.

14) “Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere” (single, 1965)

The famous Who harmonies are all over this Top 10 single, which is that rarest of beasts – a Townsend/ Daltrey co-write (the only time they wrote together). And how far ahead of the game this must have seemed in 1965, with its riot of feedback and distortion midway through. Nothing quite like it had ever been heard before and it proved infinitely influential.

13) “The Real Me” (Quadrophenia, 1973)

All four members are at the peak of their powers on Quadrophenia’s glorious scene-setter, although it’s tempting to say that “The Real Me” is all about the bass. John Entwistle possessed an incredible ability to turn his bass guitar into a lead instrument, and his work here drives a dynamic song reflecting the conflicted personality of Jimmy, Quadrophenia’s protagonist.

12) “Pinball Wizard” (Tommy, 1969)

The story of “the deaf, dumb and blind kid” reached No 4 in the UK and remains inexorably linked with Tommy, but is strong enough to transcend the rock opera and to even survive a cover by the New Seekers. Fantastic strummed acoustic guitars and slashing riffs from Townsend and an archetypal Daltrey vocal can both be heard on arguably the Who’s most famous song.

11) “See Me, Feel Me” (Tommy, 1969)

Actually part of Tommy’s closing song “We’re Not Gonna Take It”, “See Me, Feel Me” was extracted from that track as a stand-alone single after a legendary performance at the Woodstock festival. Unlike “Pinball Wizard”, it failed to chart in the UK – the song’s strength and resonance lay in its status as the emotional and spiritual highpoint in the finale of Tommy.

10) “The Kids Are Alright” (My Generation, 1965)

A Byrds’ influence is detectable on the jangly guitars of the ultimate Mod anthem, with a 20-year-old Townsend maturing quickly in terms of his songwriting. Here, his narrator is leaving someone or something behind – either his wife or the Mod movement itself. But he’s satisfied that “the kids are alright”.

9) “5.15” (Quadrophenia, 1973)

Documenting a drug fuelled train journey, this tremendous brass-driven single from Quadrophenia offers sweet and sour vocals, thumping percussion and blistering Townsend riffs, and culminates in the heartbreaking “why should I care?” coda. The band gave an ill-advised but memorable performance of “5.15” on Top of the Pops and, predictably enough, they destroyed their equipment and ran riot afterwards.

8) “I Can’t Explain” (single, 1965)

The first of a run of classic three-minute hit singles has an edginess underneath the innocent charm. Perhaps that’s down to the power of 18-year-old Keith Moon or the garage rock/power pop fusion fuelled by the Kinks influence, in particular “You Really Got Me”, but as an opening statement, “I Can’t Explain” is pretty much unbeatable.

7) “Behind Blue Eyes” (Who’s Next, 1971)

Who’s Next’s reputation rests not only on its power chord numbers, but the glorious ballads too. This is the best of them, although it still rocks out. Lyrics like “No one knows what it’s like/to be the sad man/behind blue eyes”, seem like a twist on “Tracks of My Tears”, however by any standards, “Behind Blue Eyes” is a Who classic.

6) “Love, Reign o’er Me” (Quadrophenia, 1973)

The epic and hugely emotional conclusion to Quadrophenia is almost classical in its conception and execution. The instrumentation is world class, with Moon’s thunderous drums, Entwistle’s driving basslines and Townsend’s whiplash guitar and synthesised strings, vital components. However, “Love Reign o’er Me” is Roger Daltrey’s song, and his stunning, soaring vocal over the heartbreaking melody provides the majesty it deserves.

5) “Substitute” (single, 1966)

An intricate study of confused identity with the self-deprecating lyrics masterfully delivered by Daltrey. Townsend was moving on apace as a songwriter with some wonderful imagery here (“I see right through your plastic mac”). Power pop at its finest with the opening acoustic guitar chords and bass-driven solo etched on the memory, “Substitute” is perhaps The Who’s most-loved single.

4) “Baba O’Riley” (Who’s Next, 1971)

The anthemic opening track from The Who’s greatest album demonstrated how far Townsend’s song craft had progressed, even from the triumphant Tommy. The “Teenage Wasteland” lyric reflected Townsend’s observations of drug-addled fans at rock festivals, and the music is simply sensational, from the hypnotic synthesiser intro all the way through to the memorable electric fiddle climax. Daltrey’s essential vocal is the icing on the cake.

3) “I Can See for Miles” (The Who Sell Out, 1967)

The huge production with thundering Keith Moon drums and Townsend’s jagged riffs is the key to what Pete Townsend has described as the “ultimate Who record”. Townsend was crushed when this fantastic single stalled at No 10, but perhaps this rare excursion into psychedelia, with its themes of deceit and paranoia had too ominous a vibe for the trippy scene of 1967.

2) “My Generation” (My Generation, 1965)

The Who’s early career-defining song spoke for and to a generation of disaffected youths. Entwistle’s incredible bass runs, Daltrey’s iconic stuttering vocal with implied expletive, Moon’s frenetic drumming, Townsend’s opening riff and closing feedback, and one of the most famous lines in rock, “Hope I die before I get old”, make this as influential as any one record can possibly be.

1) “Won’t Get Fooled Again” (Who’s Next, 1971)

Over eight minutes long and featuring the most iconic scream in Seventies rock, the ultimate Who stadium anthem works on two levels – as a withering assessment of the political status quo and those who seek to change it, and as a mighty power chord epic. The mesmerising synthesisers embellish the majesty of The Who’s greatest song which Townsend called “a prayer”."

[Susan Foreman]

The aftermath of a 60's concert

[Susan Foreman]

March 28, 1964 - The start of two days of skirmishes between Mods and Rockers at Clacton and Hastings over the Easter weekend

The battles culminate in Brighton over the 1964 Whitsun weekend (May 18 and 19)

The British tabloid press leaps on it, describing it as 'an invasion' and begins to write articles trying to understand what these Mods and their enemies the Rockers are all about

These events, of course, form the basis of 'Quadrophenia'

[Susan Foreman]

Ken Russell, in the red pullover, with members of the Black Angels (North East Coast) motorcycle group, during the making of 'Tommy' (1974)

[Susan Foreman]

[Susan Foreman]

Roger, as King Janos of Hungary, in the 2000 TV movie 'Dark Prince: The Legend Of Dracula'

[Susan Foreman]

April 5th, 1969 - Mod no more! Melody Maker groups The Who with Led Zeppelin and Free as one of 'The heavy mob.' The article describes their sound under the new label 'heavy' rock, a label that will eventually mutate to 'heavy metal'

If you are unable to read the relevant text, the entry runs: "The heavy mob tend to stun their audiences with volume, violence and mass moodiness"

"THINKING back, it becomes apparent the Who were years ahead of their time. I can recall when it was the craze for bands like the Spencer Davis Group or Zoot Money's Big Roll Band to devote one number of their act as a kind of friendly send-up of the Who's violence-personified act. Their approach was a revolution that took the competition several moons to catch up and equal. Pete Townshend, Roger Daltrey, John Entwistle and Keith Moon between them set the nation back on its ears with a style that eschewed the normal group methods of creating excitement. Not for them an off-beat and solos in neat and orderly turn. Keith hammered his bass drums non-stop on all beats to the bar, and if occasionally the rest couldn't be heard above the noise, it wasn't for want of trying"

[Susan Foreman]

April 6th, 1967 - Journalist Richard Goldstein writes a lengthy article in 'The Village Voice' on The Who's appearance on the Murray the K show on March 28th. He concentrates on the group's interaction with backstage groupies and the "shtick" of their instrument smashing

The full text:

"Rock ‘n’ Wreck
By Richard Goldstein

In the backstage halflight of the RKO 58th Street Theatre, Peter Townshend awaits his cue. Stagehands pace furiously, shouting orders in bizarre New Yorkese. A stray go-go girl stands rubbing her op-art eyes until they redden and streak. A straggling Blues Magoo, a soggy member of the Mitch Ryder Band, a distant Mandala, mill about like condemned men waiting for the padre. High above, streaks of blue and magenta soar across the ceiling. Onstage, Murray the K is doing his patois while the audience shouts: “We want…we want…” anyone.

It is the fifth show of the fourth day in Peter Townshend’s week. He cracks his knuckles; his throat. Peter is making his American debut as lead guitarist and composer of the Who. Murray the K is about to introduce him to that pulsating mass of squealing, squirming THEM.

Muffled scratching is audible from behind the stage door. The Groupie brigade. They bribe the doormen with a wink, a kid-giggle. You can never lock them out totally. They squat outside the dressing rooms, scratching like exiled cats. “Let them in, it’s a party, isn’t it?” The big one with braces and a huge distended tongue is eyeing Keith, the drummer. Paper cup in hand, he slips on the corridor floor. “Better watch it,” she murmurs.

“Why?” Keith laugh-answers.

“Cause I might jump you.”

Even though this is New York and it is cold and rainy out, the groupies are scratching. In Germany, Peter had to haul off on an especially demonstrative cat. In London, they rip clothing. In New York, they scratch on doors. The big one raced down the gray stairwell, past Mitch Ryder in his purple see-through plastic shirt. (“He sat on me,” she exalted. “Keith sat on me.”)

Peter brushes past a livid Murray and turns on his guitar while Keith Moon — famous Keithy of the pop-art tee shirt and the rubber wrists — mounts his drums. The bored curtains creak open and the Who blast off.

They do their song — “My Generation” — because it is basic and easy and it gives Roger Daltrey a chance to pucker his lips and shout: “Why don’t you just f-f-f-fade away” while the kids gasp “Didhesay? juheahthat?” Also, “My Generation” is one of the least challenging of the Who’s creations and in a treadmill show like this, nobody does anything real. Even the best material becomes routinely strenuous played five times a day. (“10.15 a.m.” says the sign beneath Peter’s dressing room. “Fines if late.”) So, they sing: “People always put us down/Just because we g-g-g-get around,” and they roll the vowels a bit for variety and they twang the magic twanger.

Peter Townshend pulls hard on the wire which connects his guitar to its amplifier until a flash of light explodes behind the echo box. It is what everyone has come to see. Because the Who has built a reputation, not on their compositions or arrangements, but on their ability to attack a song. Every night, they smash the stage up a bit. Sometimes a guitar neck splits, or a drumstick goes awry, or an amplifier bursts a blood vessel. But any real destruction is coincidence. Mostly, the Who manages to set off a minor chemical flash and an impressive cloud of smoke which rises overhead an stinks up the backstage area (disgruntled, the go-go girl holds her nose and mutters: “I smell the Who”). Then, Roger takes his microphone and rubs it affectionately against Keith’s cymbals while Keith flays the air with a half dozen drumsticks. Peter cracks his guitar over his knee, usually avoiding the stress points. He waves it overhead and throws it crashing to the ground. It survives.

The Who’s act ends with Keith shoving the drums from under him until they tumble like loose wagon wheels all over the stage. When the curtains close, everybody rushes in to assess the damage, while the crowd whistles: “More.” By which time, Peter is backstage and into the gray again. It is comforting — all that brick passivity. By the time the fifth show is over, one begins to look at any wall that doesn’t glow as a bed.

(Peter unbuttons his Who-face as the go-go girl mutters something like: “You smelled great tonight.”)"