Tag Archives: the who

#599: The Who – I’m One

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Three out of the four albums The Who released in the 70s contained songs that featured only Pete Townshend, John Entwistle and Keith Moon performing with lead singer Roger Daltrey possibly absent from the recording session. ‘Going Mobile’ (Who’s Next, 1970), today’s song ‘I’m One’ from 1973’s Quadrophenia, and ‘However Much I Booze’ (The Who By Numbers, 1975) are where the band essentially becomes a power trio; even without Daltrey’s powerful vocals the three remaining members still kick up a storm, seemingly without any sign of struggle.

To anyone who hasn’t heard Quadrophenia, do it now! What are you doing? Sorry. It’s a bit difficult to try and explain tracks from there without having to recap its story so far. It’s a rock opera. Basically, it is about a youth called Jimmy who has four split personalities – with each one representing a member of The Who – who has problems with his parents, relationships, the mod scene he desperately wants to be a part of, and himself in general. Though it’s much more better actually hearing it for yourself.

‘I’m One’ is the sixth track on the album, coming after a point where Jimmy has left home feeling misunderstood by his parents, tries to become a mod by having the right haircut, and sees The Who in concert but leaves disenchanted by the whole affair. Things aren’t going to well for him but at least he’s someone in his own eyes. Quite ironic in that really he’s four people sort of, but at least he’s trying to figure himself out.

Townshend, Entwistle and Moon kill their respective performances here. Starting off slow with reverberated acoustic guitar and Townshend’s shimmering lead vocal, everything turns on its head about 50 seconds in when Moon’s drum fill comes in and introduces Townshend’s electric guitar and Entwistle’s bass into the frame. It is more or less agreed that John Entwistle was one of the best rock bassists – if not, the best – to have ever existed, able to play such complex lines at an alarming rate. On this track, he plays his bass quite straight. As straight as it could be if you were him. Keith Moon’s drums propel the song to another level with emphatic drum rolls and cymbal crashes. It’s a determined and very forward-moving two and a half minutes of music and one of my personal highlights from the album.

#565: The Who – I Can’t Reach You

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Just when one Who song has been done, another comes quickly around the corner. ‘I Can’t Reach You’ comes right after ‘I Can See for Miles’ on The Who Sell Out, and as I type this I’m slowly realising the contrast between the two. The latter expresses a narrator’s confidence in their ability to see all things, whereas the former witnesses one who’s trying their hardest to gain any sort of communication with a particular entity they want to get close to. Also, ‘I Can’t Reach You’ is one the daintiest compositions on the whole album which is a sudden change coming after the chaos of the preceding song. Clearly a lot of thought was put into the order of the tracklist. I’ve listened to this album for about seven years now and that’s just crept on me.

There’s a child-like innocence I sense when listening to this song, possibly aided by the foregrounded light piano that leads the melody and the fact that Pete Townshend sings here. At this point Roger Daltrey hadn’t fully developed his trademark howling vocals of the 70s so there’s not a large difference between the two’s vocal abilities on the album, but Townshend’s higher register lends this particular song a softer and vulnerable touch.

The song is the first on the album to use lyrics/music that would then be appear on the following album Tommy through the ‘see, feel, hear’ section of the chorus. ‘Sunrise’ does it. ‘Rael 1’ does it. ‘Glow Girl’ does it too, if you own the 1995 release. Other small, small things to look out for when listening is John Entwistle’s heavenly harmony vocal during the chorus, Keith Moon’s yet again going crazy on the drums – so much so that he lets out a scream before a drum roll around 2:32 – and the sneaky key change that occurs during the instrumental break which you won’t realise would have happened until Townshend brings in the final chorus. It’s all nicely tied together. One of my favourites on the album.

My iPod #563: The Who – I Can See for Miles

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Another old one. ‘I Can See for Miles’ is the seventh track and single from The Who Sell Out – the band’s third album overall – released in late 1967. I’m in that group, figuratively speaking, that rates the album as one of their best. Well, a lot of people would say that too. But I think it’s miles better than Tommy. It doesn’t take itself too seriously. All four members have more or less equal vocal duties on here and sound like they’re having a good time on every song (all 23 of them if you own the 1995 remaster/remixed edition). Plus this was the apex of The Who’s power-pop phase before they became the hard rock staple from the 70s onwards. Every song is just very entertaining.

The song concerns a narrator who, in basic terms, does not like to be taken for a fool and is number one when it comes to being observant but this is exaggerated to make it seem as if they are an all-seeing entity that can see far beyond any boundary. ‘I Can See for Miles’ is meant to sound massive. Pete Townshend described it as “the raunchiest, loudest, most ridiculous rock and roll record you’ve ever heard”. In some ways, the performance lives up to its description. I’m sure there are at least two drum takes by the manic Keith Moon on here, with drum rolls and various cymbal crashes overdubbed for full effect. It contains a memorable chorus characterised by rising vocal harmonies. There’s a guitar solo that consists of only one note. And there’s a key change for the last verse and chorus. You’d think it had everything to make it a great hit.

Apparently not. It peaked at ten in both the British and American singles charts in its day. Some would be thrilled about that, but Townshend was not too particularly happy. Despite how well (or not so) it did commercially, one can’t deny its audacity and ferocity. It also influenced Paul McCartney to write ‘Helter Skelter’ which is not so bad.

Below is a clearly mimed performance the band did for French TV in 1968.

My iPod #547: The Who – How Many Friends

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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.

My iPod #512: The Who – Helpless Dancer

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The eighth track on The Who’s second rock opera Quadrophenia is “Helpless Dancer”, a piano led march that is meant to represent the ‘tough guy’ persona of the album’s central character Jimmy. It is also one of the four themes present that portrays one of the members of The Who, in this case the song is the theme for Roger Daltrey. The narrator is angered by the unfairness and injustice within the society around him; Jimmy gives up on it, and his ‘dancing’ and naivety are brought to a sudden halt.

The aforementioned piano boldly begins the track and its chords simmer throughout the introduction, which continues to build as acoustic guitars and a French horn courtesy of bassist John Entwistle enter the mix. The melody provided by the horn is something of a motif, appearing at crucial points in the album’s storyline.  It is soon after this slow build that the track’s marching rhythm starts, led by a vamping piano which blasts out chords whilst Roger Daltrey’s passionate vocals pan regularly pan from one ear to the other. Acoustic flourishes by Townshend appear within its second verse to give the track a further boost, and the way the guitar is played is mirrored again by Keith Moon and his drums later during “The Rock” (which I actually just noticed while writing this).

The piano and French horn end “Dancer” just how it started, but a nice little snippet of “The Kids Are Alright” really closes the song off – maybe to lift a weight off the serious subject matter.