Simpering

A friend asks me "why The Who?" And so I feel perpetually obliged to respond. And you may consider this my final word on The Who, even thought it's dated, and even though my opinions, feelings and missives on the band will evolve. In fact just as The Who has taken upon itself the silly mission of "farewell tours," so does this blogger have the inalienable right to have multiple final words. And on anything I darn well please.

It is upon the heels of much consternation about the recent history of the Who that I find my feelings about them both as individuals and as collective, changing. The excesses which led to the death of John Entwhistle, not to mention the raucous and chaotic lifestyle which culminated in tragedy for Keith Moon are but examples. The needless traumas of Cincinnati, the accidental death of Moon’s limo driver, and the debacle over Pete Townshend’s supposed internet mishap are all converging for this Who fan as signs of a kind of sick and depressing set of realities. I’ve found no end of miserable company with the Who, their music and their antics over the years. But now I look back upon the icons to which I so faithfully devoted my musical love and whose music was to the exclusion of all others, and find I’m left with a certain feeling emptiness and sadness. I’ll take a break from my reflective stance to briefly outline how these gentlemen entered my social and creative consciousness.

In the summer after sixth grade (1979) my brothers were listening to a song called Pinball Wizard. I was hooked on the refrain, but didn’t know the rest. Being in the habit of parroting everything my brothers said and did, I mentioned to a friend that he should include The Who among bands worth listening to. He dispassionately replied, “yeah, the Who is excellent.”

While in 7th grade I lost my musical touchstone, John Lennon. For me it was a death in the family. It was that same year when Ms. Filardi, my music teacher turned the class on to an LP which she felt was a very important piece of popular and modern music; an album called Tommy. She played Overture to the class, and the familiarity (from hearing it at home) together with the legitimating presence of a teacher created an atmosphere in which The Who became required listening. And to boot, Ms. Filardi was a real super-model of a teacher. Comedian David Brenner once said “you can learn from someone you can look at,” but I digress. A couple of short years later my brother, Joe, sat me in a room, switched on a cassette boom-box and ordered me to listen to Pete Townshend perform Drowned from the Amnesty International’s tribute concert, “The Secret Policeman’s Other Ball.” He said, “now listen to the speed of the strumming. His hand must have been a blur.” During Won’t Get Fooled Again (on the same album) there’s a thud sound. My brother informed me that Pete had been so drunk during the performance that he fell off the stool, but didn’t miss a beat. That was the extent of myth and wonder assigned to Pete Townshend, and I was in awe. I repeatedly brought that tape to school every morning, and shared it with my friend Tim Kenneally, en route to Albany High School. Tim, now a seasoned journalist and music critic, already had a well-developed vocabulary to describe The Who, and I was so pleased to have a friend; a generational contemporary who shared my taste.

It was so damn significant because the more exposure to The Who I received, the more I felt the music was addressing guys like me, directly. I was a somewhat geeky, overweight, kid lost in a morass of classmates who at best enjoyed Van Halen, with The Bee Gees chirping at the other end of the spectrum. It was Bar and Bat Mitzvah season when I was in junior high and I was the only kid to have Who Are You played on the dance floor at my party. One of my friends, a very popular kid, screamed “you can’t dance to this,” which I responded to by performing some version of the Batusi, just as I had recalled Adam West swirling it out on screen. Dancing? Who needed dancing when there was music to be heard?!?! I’ve since changed that opinion, but at the time the idea of music for the sole purpose of dancing seemed vacuous and irrelevant. Besides, what did a fat kid like me need with dancing, anyhow?

I became immersed in The Who, and most everything they did, though I didn’t see them live as a group until 1996. My dear buddy, Shalom and I sat in my car outside The Great Western Forum and simultaneously came to the realization that we were about to FINALLY see The Who. During the same tour on the following summer my brother, Izzy and I spent a fabulous weekend together culminating in yet another Quadrophenia performance at Great Woods in Mansfield Mass. I gulped and sobbed as the opening chords of Quad spilled out onto the lawn. These were meaningful events, not only for the fact I felt privileged to be there, but too because I was sharing it with my brother who had mentored me in the ways of Rock, and with a life-long friend with whom I could share the ecstatic vibe.

Thereafter I spent much of my hard-earned money to catch them at a number of venues in and around Los Angeles. I did manage to catch Pete Townshend, both in 93’ and again in 96’ here in LA. Up to that point I viewed Pete as a fairly reclusive solo performer so the opportunity to see him on stage was incredibly special. The Who as a springy and energetic mix of talent, passion and honest aggression was typified by what I saw on the Woodstock documentary and The Kids Are Alright film. Pete wrote, what one journalist referred to as “thinking man’s rock,” and this pundit conversely referred to Townshend as “rock’s thinking man.” The band existed for me as the penultimate fusion of lustful expression with intelligent pop-culture. If I was to be both a Jew, and a man with a foot in the world, that other foot could be found attending a Who show – and the rest of my body would tag along for the ride.

With a year to look back upon, one with my first child Adinah – her words, her steps, her wonderful gaze and the ecstatic glory with which she experiences everything around her – The Who have taken on less significance, quite simply. In 2002 at The Greek Theatre, Pete ended the song The Kids Are Alright with a mantra of “….just keep filling the world with kids…” and I wept. We were pregnant with Adinah and it was just such serendipity that his sentiment reverberated so perfectly. After nearly 25 years I began to gracefully let go of The Who, finally.

But the coiled and tangled amplifier lead – come umbilical cord was not yet cut. When Pete Townshend landed on the front pages in 2003, I sent the fans one letter, and him another. To the oddsandsods Who listserve, I sent the following posting:

We're in the same boat here, my friends. All at once our impulse is to gather support for Pete, and I believe that is because we all feel tangentially associated with the man. The works of his heart and soul have presented the "ground" for so many of our lives. It's painful to even contemplate the possibility that those brush strokes may the product of such a sick and misguided mind. There are plenty of places within Pete's repertoire to witness hints of his own abuse and one can only speculate about recent developments. It's funny because I feel like I'm a spokesperson for Pete lately. All my friends are asking me what I think, as if it makes a difference what the f*** I or anyone else not directly connected to the case thinks.

Let us remember that Pete is a public personality, and that he needs to be extremely careful about everything he does. That's not such a pleasant thing, and perhaps in a more perfect world he'd have the privacy we desire for him. But he lives in a world in which he has referred to himself as "exalted." The negative externalities of such a fact are being witnessed now . The ironies of Psychoderelict are simply too profound at this moment. "She doesn't have a problem - do you?" "She knows I do . . ." hmmm

I hope it ain't true. But he's a human being. I've done things I'm not so proud of in my life - things I wish I could undo. As a fan I think it's important to remember that we can jump off this boat any time we like. I'm not inclined to do that, simply because so much of what I believe socially, musically and artistically is tied up in Pete's work. That however, does not absolve him of anything.

There are those who can divorce the artist from his art. Picasso was the world's biggest SOB. Lennon was not exactly the nicest guy in the world. My understanding is that Cezanne was not on the side Dreyfuss. Wagner is not someone I would have had dinner with. The list can probably go on. If the worst scenario is true, and Pete is a distributor of this crap, then I would consider unloading all my Pete stuff. I'm a recently new parent, and the idea that I would expose my child to his work, no less to HIM is extremely challenging. I cringe at this thought, but I suspect many of us have entertained such ideas in the last week.

Do I think Pete is innocent? I know that some here, especially the folks who are doing the t-shirt campaign and the website will want to have me lynched for saying this; but no, he's not innocent. Neither am I, nor (dare I suggest) anyone on this list. I think innocence is the wrong concept here, and I don't think Pete himself would use it either. He's not free from blame or sin or guilt - who the hell is? It's about what exactly he is guilty of doing. If he's telling the truth, and so far I have every reason to believe that he is, then that is that. He did technically break the law and it's up to his attorney to get him the lightest possible treatment under the law. Whether or not it's a bad law or not is also quite irrelevant at the moment. I happen to believe in the protection of children and in the sanctity of childhood. And by the way, nobody on this list (as far as I can tell) was interested in the severity of sentencing for these things prior to last Monday. That includes Pete, who (if he is telling the truth) probably endorses some pretty harsh sentencing. According to the experience of someone close to me, who works in the child abuse courts, rehabilitation of such people is rare. The abused have very good chances of becoming abusers, unfortunately. A friend of my family committed suicide because she had been the product of her own father's abuse.

Apparently with Michael Jackson there were indicators; his obsession with children, and his penchant for personally entertaining them privately at his home. Also Jackson's incessant referencing of Peter Pan (Neverland Ranch or whatever he calls it), which it has been argued is a molester's fantasy, is quite strange. I heard one story (unconfirmed) that he had motion detectors in the hallway leading to his bedroom - to alert him if anyone was approaching. Whereas I think Pete is exercising demons. If you haven't read the Salon.com article - you should. I think it's the strongest piece I've read thus far on the matter. His interview with Terry Gross (Fresh Air) is also very telling. Pete is an honest person - perhaps too honest. I recall another interview in which he said that he'd love to find the person who did molest him as a child, and give him a big kiss on the lips (because it helped to define Pete's biggest commercial success - Tommy). But just because he's honest doesn't mean he's beyond reproach. It just makes it all that much more difficult for us. I prefer the honesty, but maybe too much information is also not good. I'm torn apart by this!

My nastier side says that If you want to offer him a legal defense fund, well I'd hope that all those CD and ticket sales are doing their job just about now. I certainly have all the compassion in the world for the guy, regardless if the worst is true or not - perhaps more so if it's true, I dunno. But I'm not interested in some sort of OJ-fan-like, mindless rally for Pete. By his own admission he did something quite foolish.

What do I hope for? I hope the truth comes out, whatever that is. I also hope that the only things the police find on his computers are some really good songs for Roger (or Pete) to sing.

This is one of the many responses I received to this posting:

Hello, I just read your post to Odds and SOds and I was very impressed with your perspectives. I would really like to have your post added to my yahoo group. If you are not a member and dont wish to join -I would really like to post your message on the site- with your permission. With or without your name. or "posted on O&Ss. Or maybe you could post it. But simply I thought it was very well written and said many of the things that Ive been losing sleep over the past week and a half......;)
If you havent been to the group it is at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/PeteTownshendWitchHunt
let me know- I hope that you will join and post it - or some other perspectives. At this point Im thinking that it is not looking good for Pete no matter what happens now. And Im really SO SAD. Im still in shock and disappointed with John......
and now this.Well take care. Let me know if you would allow me to post it or if you will- or if you dont wish to have it posted.
Thanks
Peace
(name withheld)

In the meantime, Pete was in receipt of this obsequious and pathetic note on my behalf:

Pete, I want to express my hope that you are finding the light in all this difficulty. I can only begin to imagine what you are going through. None of us is an angel, and at many times we feel that we have the license to do things - things bound by rules that apply to everyone else, that seemingly do not apply to us. I know your intentions are good, and that you never intended to deprive a child of his or her childhood. I understand from your web postings that you are shocked by the magnitude of the exploitation of children. It can be a cruel and terrible journey at times, because the foe we encounter is often in the mirror. There are times when we feel we have triumphed only to find that it seems the rug has been pulled out from under us. There are hoards of your fans who support you now - they are ready to be at your side. You've provided them with much introspection and means to reflect upon their lives and they want to reciprocate - at least unconditionally, if not more. Please know this, and be honest with them. As a Jewish person, my faith has taught me that truth is the beginning, middle, and end of all things - and that is not within our control. Be well and be happy. B'Shalom - Chaim

I am a creature of habit, and habits are classically confronted with the unrealizable task of attempts at breaking them by weak beings such as myself. I will not attempt to break my habit of the Who. I will realize, with sad sobriety that Keith Moon is indeed gone forever. It is also upon me to see with clarity that John Entwhistle is not only gone, but like Keith is dead largely due to gross manifestations of his own obsessions. I on the other hand do not intend to allow my obsession with the Who or any of its component members or facets of its history to govern my fate, and that is something I need to actively confront, as I suspect a number of other Who fans must do.

Why is The Who so indefatigably saddled with responsibilities far beyond the means of its’ collective or any of its’ individual members ability to accept? Roger takes on a tremendous burden, and I credit him for that. He works very hard, and has always been prepared to carry the torch of the band. Pete arguably gave it up after Who By Numbers, though feels some compulsion, perhaps driven by his empathy for Roger, perhaps by money, and maybe just because he’s an exhibitionist at heart – to continue. I’m glad they are continuing, but it places guys like me in a peculiar spot. I must contend with the history of the band, and the reality of what is no longer in existence. This thing called The Who, can in its current incarnation either be dubbed “The Who Revue,” or another version of The Pete Townshend Project. That’s actually fine with me. The Who was at one time charged with driving “the bus” of revolution, and while their discs spin, the drive is somewhere left behind. The Who is the greatest rock and roll band in the world. Right. Notice I don’t say “was,” because we’re not there, yet neither are we where we were. Enough.

There are so far two new songs out there in the ether. I’m very pleased. They are mature, introspective, melodic pieces. They are not, in my opinion important, anthemic wailings of the caliber brought to us on say Who’s Next, though that will be left for history to decide. On the other hand, they are the product of Pete Townshend, who remains a serious artist in my book. And he’s written more material for Roger Daltrey to sing, and I’m happy about that.

Will I shell out yet another chunk of my paycheck to see these old geezers fart around the stage this summer? Assuming another of them doesn’t give up the ghost before or during the show, the answer is most likely yes. I want to be part of the Who’s history. The difference is that I don’t wish to receive the The Who’s kiss of death, either by trampling in an inch of black mud, or via deep and unhealthy association with any of its members.

Los Angeles, CA
April 2, 2004