Tag Archives: the who by numbers

#1355: The Who – They Are All in Love

This marks another instance that an album will be represented for the last time on here too. I’ve covered three tracks from The Who by Numbers before, and the presence of ‘They Are All in Love’ today makes it the fourth and final one. Only a third of the album, if my calculations are correct. But even though I may only find that fraction of the record enjoyable to a degree that I’d want to hear it over and over, I’d listen to the thing the whole way through if someone, anyone, out there were to put it on. The lyrical themes are a bit of a downer. It wasn’t labelled ‘Pete Townshend’s suicide note’ by a critic just for show. But if you just want a good rock album with no constructed concept and strong performances, …by Numbers isn’t a bad shout. Out of all those old ’70s rock bands to exist, you may as well go to The Who if that’s the particular type of record you’re looking for. They don’t do too bad on the concept side either.

I remember really not rating ‘They Are All in Love’ when I went through …by Numbers the first time in about 2012 or so. The waltz timing and the dainty piano among everything else on the album made it stick out like a sore thumb. Made it difficult for me to take it seriously, so I never gave it that much attention. But as the years have gone on and I’ve relistened here and there, I’m at the point now where I’ve realised that the tune is essential to the themes of frustration and irrelevancy that thread through the album. When John Entwistle’s half-joking take on getting into the music business with ‘Success Story’ is finished, we zip back to Pete Townshend’s problems with ‘…in Love’. He finds himself being the outsider to pretty much everything that surrounds him and succumbs to his feelings of irrelevancy as he becomes the old man – at the age of 30 – in the young man’s game of rock and roll. When he writes (and Roger Daltrey sings) “Where do you walk on sunny times” or “Where do you fit in (blows raspberry) magazine”, he’s really asking himself “Where do I etc etc.” As a writer, you’ve got to address the audience in some way, and with the second-person narrative, he does easily. But it makes it the more hard-hitting when he switches to first-person in the final verse with the lines, “Goodbye all you punks, stay young and stay high / Hand me my chequebook and I’ll crawl off to die.” It’s a sucker punch.

So who’s the ‘They’ that are in love as the harmonies so delicately lay out in the choruses? To me, I don’t think it matters. ‘They’ could be anyone. The main implication from the lyric is that while everyone else is in love, Townshend on the other hand, isn’t, with anyone or anything. And no one’s loving him either. A downer, to say the least. And this carries on until the album’s end where he tries to force himself into liking the simple things in life while feeling like rubbish (‘Blue, Red and Grey’) and contemplates who he can really trust in his personal life (‘How Many Friends’) to the point where he flat out states he’s lacking direction (‘In a Hand or a Face’). Might be one of the most overlooked streaks on a Who album, those last four tracks on …by Numbers. So it goes to show the 17-year-old I was in 2012, underneath the unserious-sounding music lay a strong song that was actually very serious in its lyrics. The sprightly piano on here is easily the highlight, brought to you everyone’s go-to session musician Nicky Hopkins. He carries everything with those fingers.

#1219: The Who – Slip Kid

Sometime in 2012 when I should have really been focusing on studying for my A-Levels but also going through what I think was a sort of depression at the time, I got round to listening to The Who by Numbers. Wikipedia showed that this was the album that the band came back with after Quadrophenia two years before, and through listening it became clear why the record was named the way it was. It was no rock opera like Tommy or Quadrophenia. There was no overarching theme tying the songs like on …Sell Out. No, this time round was a standard, simple ten-track album brought to you by the four bandmembers, just under 40 minutes, doing what they did best. No sign of pretension to be found.

During the album’s sessions, guitarist and songwriter Pete Townshend turned 30. Feeling the pressures of feeling like an old man in the young man’s game of rock and roll and becoming heavily disillusioned with it all, he laid out his feelings in the tracks that would go on to make up …by Numbers. The album begins with ‘Slip Kid’, a warning to the kids who were looking to get into the music business disguised as a track about a young man who has to go to war alongside these older people who have led a long life and are providing this unwanted advice. I’m sure that the whole track is one big metaphor, to be honest. I think the crucial line that really tells what Townshend’s message is in the final lines when Roger Daltrey sings, “You’re sliding down the hill like me” a nod to being “over the hill” which the whole album goes on to delve into for the next half-hour.

The song begins with a loop of handclaps and percussion (cowbell on the left, tom-toms on the right) which persists throughout, with the rest of the band joining in together after a swift count-in by Townshend. Two simultaneous riffs provided by premier session player Nick Hopkins on the piano and Townshend on guitar get things going, before Daltrey gets his gritty vocals. Just in the introduction alone, there’s enough memorable melodies to go around. Daltrey’s tougher vocals contrast with the softer tones of Townshend and John Entwistle’s backing harmonies with fine effect. The latter’s bass line is one to recognise as per usual, particularly how it mirrors the backing vocals during outro. And unusually Keith Moon takes a bit of a backseat on the drums, staying mainly on the hi-hat and snare. Slip Kid’s a very steady number. Doesn’t announce itself with a bang like ‘The Real Me’ or possess the wait of anticipation like ‘Baba O’Riley’, but does the job in its own firm, secure way.

#618: The Who – In a Hand or a Face

‘In a Hand or a Face’ closes out The Who by Numbers, The Who’s seventh album released back in 1975. It goes that Pete Townshend, the band’s guitarist and main songwriter, was severely depressed and suicidal during the making of the record. He quit drinking after a long period of severe alcoholism. He was having an existential crisis due to the fear of turning 30 and wondering if he was getting to old for the whole ‘rock ‘n’ roll’ thing. The album as a result has some of Townshend’s most personal, soul-seeking material on there. After nine tracks, including one written by bassist John Entwistle, ‘In a Hand’ sees Townshend at breaking point despite the triumphant confidence with which the music is delivered.

An emphatic crash cymbal and chunky guitar riff begin the song before a thunderous drum roll gets the rhythm going alongside a salutary opening guitar solo. The song is relatively simple. It’s mostly three chords. But there’s an assertive behind every note, chord, and drum fill played that makes the song sound very nonchalant and unfazed. Lyrics-wise, Townshend writes about seeing people in various situations and trying to put himself in their shoes. He asks the listener whether they’ve ever hard the same experiences and self-assesses where he’s at in comparison. His conclusion? He was “going round and round”.

A pulsating rhythm section break marks the song’s key change, and Roger Daltrey, Townshend, and Entwistle repeat its main refrain before the instruments ring out on an unresolved chord. I guess Townshend was in so much of a spiral at the time he didn’t know where he was going. With The Who, with his life…. It wasn’t a great time to be him.

My iPod #547: The Who – How Many Friends

Afraid of turning thirty and becoming irrelevant in the music business, Pete Townshend expressed the personal issues he was going through in his songwriting. The material written resulted in The Who by Numbers, The Who’s seventh album released in 1975, which marked a return to the straightforward studio album format after their second rock opera of Quadrophenia in 1973.

“How Many Friends” is the penultimate track, and is arguably the one in which Townshend’s insecurities are laid bare. It is something of a biography, with Townshend recalling moments of being hit on by a guy, falling in a love with a lady at the cinema, and signing a contract for the first time. However, all of these times bring up the issue on whether he is just being used, leaving him questioning who he can really trust and whether he has true friends he can really depend on and will take him for the person he is. Its message struck a chord with Keith Moon, who is said to have cried and hugged Townshend after hearing the song’s demo for the first time.

Once again the band provide a brilliant performance, but what really gives the song its delicate touch is the lush piano courtesy of the late Nick Hopkins, who fills the slot as the ‘rhythm guitar’ while Townshend delivers what is essentially a four-minute solo in the left channel. It is maybe one of the songs by The Who where the rhythm section aren’t the musical highlights. Of course you can’t disregard the playing of John Entwistle and Keith Moon completely, they very much do their job greatly, but Daltrey’s majestic vocals with Hopkins’ piano and Townshend’s intense guitar work reinforce the track’s sad energy. A tear will be shed.