Beginning to See the Light: Sex, Hope, and Rock-and-Roll

The Who Sell

The Who Sell Early in 1966,1 got hold of two 455 a tourist friend had brought back from England—"Anyway Anyhow Anywhere" and "Substitute," by an unknown (in the States) rock group called the Who. The records turned out to be driving, snarling, harderthan -Stones rock-and-roll, with tough, sophisticated lyrics. "Substitute " was—though I didn't think in such terms then—the best rock-as-paradox song ever written. ("Street Fighting Man" is second.) It embodied the tension between the wildness of rock and its artificiality. Its hero remarks that he might look tall, but only because of his high heels: "I look allwhite, but my dad was black." In addition, these musicians I had never heard of were using the feedback from their amplifiers to make unheard-of noises, adding chaos to the steady violence of the beat. It seemed an odd case of cultural lag that the Who hadn't caught on here. They were obviously superstar material, they were apparently making it big in England, and "Substitute" was a sure hit if I had ever heard one. I went looking for more Who records. I had to look pretty hard, but within a few weeks I had found an American version of "Substitute," recorded on Atco (with the reference to interracial 35 O U T O F T H E V I N Y L D E E P S parentage deleted), and the Who's first album, My Generation (on Decca), both of which I immediately bought. As funny as the Beatles, as arrogant as the Stones, the Who specialized in an unbohemian youth-prole defiance that was much closer to the spirit of fifties rock. As Peter Townshend, the group's lead guitarist, chief songwriter, and presiding genius put it recently, "Mick Jagger was a beatnik. I only became one later." The unadorned message of the album's title song ("Why don't you all f-f-fade away?/ Don't try to dig what we all s-s-say") was familiar, though the anarchic electronic noise was new. That summer , when the Beatles amazed us with Revolver, I decided that the Who had missed their chance. They were wonderful, but too provincial and unpolished for the great studio-rock era then emerging. Neither Atco, which had not yet learned how to promote the new rock, nor Decca, an easy-listening, country-oriented label, had recognized the Who's potential, and now it was too late. By rights, the Who should have been up there with the Beatles and the Stones—international celebrities, cosmopolites. Instead, I figured , they would wind up in some Birmingham factory. In taking the Who's image so literally, I was badly underestimating Townshend 's brilliance—but also paying it unwitting tribute. Months later, the Who finally had their first Stateside success. "Happy Jack," a medium-sized hit,became the title song of a new album. In accordance with the times, the Who's music had grown more complex and subtle; the violence was balanced by playfulness , and the suggestion of the fifties was gone. Generational polemics had given way to narratives and character sketches, often infused with whimsy. I missed the crude energy but liked what had replaced it. The major achievement of the album was "A Quick One While He's Away," a series of brief songs about a woman, her late-arriving lover, and her temporary comforter, Ivor the Engine Driver. The mini-opera, as Townshend called it, ended with a transcendent, Messiah-like chorus of "You are forgiven!"— energy transformed into love and exaltation. The Who toured the United States and established themselves as 36 The Who Sell fine live performers. Roger Daltrey, the blond lead singer, made angel faces for the Who's newer, gentler songs, with their freaky characters—"Tattoo," "I'm a Boy," "Happy Jack"—but could switch to convincing j.-d. truculence for old standards like "My Generation." Keith Moon gave a nonstop, manic show on the drums. Townshend kept up and elaborated his cathartic smash-theguitar (and sometimes the sound equipment) finale. The Who were enthusiastically received at the Monterey Pop Festival and began to gather an underground following—"underground" in that Decca wasn't pushing them. The group's managers pushed them instead and, aided by the hip community's efficient grapevine , generated another hit single, "I Can See for Miles," and made a best seller...