COME ON, TELL ME – The Who & ‘WHO ARE YOU’

[email protected] August 24, 2020

When the Sex Pistols swore at Bill Grundy on UK television in the autumn of 1976, they not only caused national outrage, but created a musical tipping point of the decade.

Within weeks scores of punk bands were gathering at the ramparts of Fort Rock, from where the likes of Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Elton John and Yes had more or less ruled the 70s music scene up until then, each impregnable against any passing trend.

But punk was to throw up (literally and metaphorically speaking) a new and totally different challenge to the established order. Their technically accomplished, self-absorbed music and complacent attitude toward audiences happy to indulge them, became despised overnight by a new wave of groups with disaffection to spare – articulated in a sound that was raw, passionate and upbeat.

For those conscious of such things, most punk guitar power-chords and resounding drum fills were reminiscent of what had been heard on early singles by The Who.

Still reigning as ‘the greatest rock band in the world‘ at this juncture, their anti-authoritarian stance of the mid-60s was the template from which every punk band were working from – whether they realised it or not.

In which sense by 1977 The Who were everywhere and nowhere. 

Two years on from their last album of new material, ‘The Who By Numbers‘ had been a compelling, if downcast articulation by guitarist Pete Townshend on the conflicts and contradictions of being a rock star at 30 years of age – his insight into the condition prompting the New Musical Express to say (it) ‘reaffirms his position as the thinking-man’s rock musician, rock music’s thinking man.’ 

But ‘The Who By Numbers‘ was not just a triumph for Townshend alone. With Keith Moon still as propulsive, John Entwistle finding new ways to extend capabilities of the bass guitar and Roger Daltrey delivering another impeccable set of vocal performances, the collective roar of The Who betrayed no sense of hesitancy, despite the uncertain overtones of the material.

Three years on, however, The Who, like the rock world itself were in a far different shape. By way of unfolding irony, their last live performance had occurred the same October week in 1976 when the Sex Pistols recorded their incendiary debut single ‘Anarchy in the UK.’ 

In the meantime, as young guns like the Sex Pistols and The Clash blasted their way into public consciousness, The Who took a step back.

While many of his contemporaries were either intimidated or dismissive of punk, Townshend, held up as spiritual godfather by new wave figure heads, championed the cause (‘I think The Clash are an amazing band‘) while displaying customary antagonism when viewing the scene as a whole, (‘What are they doing – except copy everything I’ve ever done‘).   

All of which begged the question of how such things would manifest when The Who next came to release new music. The subsequent ‘WHO ARE YOU‘ album (August 1978) provided more questions than answers as Townshend examined the validity not just of what The Who represented, but his own place in what he perceived as a young man’s game.

In their time away from the concert stage, while drummer Moon had perpetuated his extravagant, self-destructive lifestyle, Townshend’s time was spent compiling tracks befitting an idealistic rock group into the fourteenth year of their career and whose members were all over thirty. 

For Townshend touring had become a bone of contention, his reluctance to go on the road stemming from not wishing to be away from his family, Moon-related tour mayhem and fears The Who on stage at least, were becoming a parody of their former selves.

Indeed, his six contributions to the nine track ‘Who Are You‘ set suggest they were constructed without recourse to being performed in concert.

Unusually for The Who (most bands for that matter), no tours had been booked to promote the album, giving Townshend full license to decorate his songs with dense layers of synthesizers, keyboards and strings.   

While the lyrical concerns of songs such as ‘New Song,’ ‘Sister Disco,’ ‘Music Must Change‘ and ‘Guitar and Pen‘ are firmly rooted in the present, there are times when the music sounds ‘space-age Who’ (and that’s before considering Entwistle’s futuristic ‘9.05‘), the synthesizer ubiquitous even beyond its prominent role on the ‘Quadrophenia‘ double-album of 1973.

On first listen 42 years ago the most obvious candidate for the set-list if The Who ever returned to the stage – even more than the surge/pull-back nature of the title track – was the crunching Entwistle rocker ‘Trick of the Light‘ that opens side two.

With three inclusions, ‘Had Enough‘ joining the aforementioned, Entwistle weighs in with his biggest songwriting haul since ‘The Who Sell Out‘ of eleven years before. ‘Trick of the Light‘ thunders away to good effect in describing a nocturnal liaison with a lady of the night, while ‘Had Enough‘ (a rare instance of Daltrey singing an Entwistle track), with its breeze-along strings, subtle horns and conspicuous synthesizer fits the entity well, despite the dark portents of the lyric.

But ‘9.05‘ – with no trace of Daltrey, The Who working as a trio – while nicely recorded and smartly performed, comes across out of kilter with the general crux of ‘Who Are You,’ this futuristic take on child conception, an enjoyable B-side rather than essential album cut.

Which leaves the meat and potatoes of ‘Who Are You‘ to be found in the six Townshend compositions. ‘New Song‘ serves as a rousing opener, the synthesizer pyrotechnics counter-pointed by a series of trademark flourishes from the guitarist, whose lyrics describe the thought process behind writing Who songs as the 70s draw to a close.

‘We need a new song‘ sings Daltrey as he barks out the first line, ‘I set the words up so they tear right at your soul.’ The ‘new lamps for old‘ allusion sounds a sly dig at the audience for blind acceptance in embracing whatever The Who come up with, Townshend emphasising his point with a line in the chorus of ‘I write the same old song with a few new lines and everybody wants to hear it.’

Another challenge to the faithful or a revenge-in-first strike against critics questioning the 1978 relevance of The Who? Either way it is impossible to imagine Mick Jagger or Bob Dylan being so brutally direct in addressing their devotees.

Similar in theme is ‘Guitar and Pen,’ Townshend taking the tools of the songwriting trade to build an engaging piece around the need of having ‘something important to say.’

With ‘when you smash your guitar at the end of the bed, then you stick it together start writing again,’ he gives an amusing nod to their instrument trashing ways of the past, the broad humour continuing in respect of Pete’s mum to whom he plays the song – returning when it becomes a hit to, ‘bring her some money/she’s calling you honey/stashed in a bloody great sack/In your Cadillac.’

While some found the interweaving piano/synthesizer motifs too flowery for a Who song, in places closer to Gilbert & Sullivan operetta than rock opera, by this stage Townshend had little to prove as an innovator. After out-progging the progs on ‘Quadrophenia‘ he comes up with more hypnotic keyboard patterns on ‘Sister Disco.’

In a song that finds Townshend at his most questioning, (and lyrically obscure), on one hand he appears certain where the future lies. Singing the bridge himself it contains the line, ‘Goodbye Sister Disco/Now I go where the music fits my soul,’ but at other times he seems unsure of what to expect from the coming years, even throwing in a ‘deaf, dumb and blind‘ reference to muddy the waters. Fortunately, with a wonderfully assured vocal, Daltrey seems the least bit confused by the possible contradictions.

Daltrey shows admirable restraint in conveying the string-laden ‘Love Is Coming Down,’ finding an impressive balance between power and poignancy. This allows a line such as ‘life’s like a razor’s edge,’ to hit home without sounding forced, although the nub of the song is found in ‘is there something different life can show me now‘ – even if we cannot be sure the love coming down on the author originates from his family, Who fans or even a higher power.

Moon also reigns in his natural inclination to be explosive, although he and Daltrey each return to their natural habitat on the closing title track.

At once the most aggressive and menacing piece on the record, instantly recognisable Who motifs – throaty vocals, crashing drums, loud sinewy bass, brilliant Townshend interplay between electric and acoustic guitar – are set against a pulsing synthesiser track.

The composer recounts a drunken night in the West End (one where he encountered members of the Sex Pistols in a nightclub), the opening line of, ‘I woke up in a Soho doorway, a policeman knew my name,’ making it unmistakably Townshend in the way it could never be mistaken for Paul McCartney or Van Morrison.

But as the song rushes and ripples through the verses, chorus and instrumental break, it is the final verse, omitted from the version edited to become a minor hit in the summer of 1978, that finds Townshend at his most conflicted:

‘I spit out like a sewer hole/yet still receive your kiss/how can I measure up to anyone now/after such a love as this.’

Is Townshend once again goading his audience in supposing they will lap up whatever The Who pour out? What might be the pinnacle in terms of a major rock star being honest with fans could also be the height of rock cynicism – and for the overarching question on a album that asks plenty, bellowed out by Daltrey at various points in the title track, where is the question mark.

In such context ‘Who Are You‘ becomes an oblique statement rather than demand for an answer.

For all his pontification on the record, Townshend was no less frank when the subject of The Who performing live again was raised in interviews on release of the album. ‘My advice to people who want to see us on stage,’ he remarked, ‘is don’t buy the record. Then we’d have to tour to make some money.’

Moon on other hand answered the same query with, ‘we’re just going to stay in London and play louder.’

When ‘Who Are You‘ emerged to end their three year recording hiatus, the generally favourable reviews were tempered by references to the lack of customary fire in Moon’s drumming, (he reported for recording duty in woeful condition after eighteen months of Californian high-life), with attention drawn to ‘Music Must Change‘ – the uptempo song, but void of any drums, that closes side one.

On a wonderfully atmospheric, jazz-infused cut (Townshend producing any number of superb guitar lines, Entwistle sympathetic on bass, strident with French horn, Daltrey capturing every nuance of a lyric imploring movement with the times), it amounts to the unthinkable; The Who, three shining stars in the sky without a Moon.

Townshend recognises how things are changing (‘it’s confirmed in the eyes of the kids/emphasised with their fists,) aware also of how The Who, often dependent on Moon’s health and erratic behaviour, were becoming prone to peaks and troughs, ‘we soared like the sparrowhawk flied then we dropped like a stone.’

Ultimately, however, it was not pressure from punk, poor sales (‘Who Are You‘ registered high placings in the UK & US LP charts) or being off the road that brought change, but a fallen comrade in arms – Moon succumbing to an accidental overdose of pills prescribed to help combat his alcoholism, found dead in a Mayfair flat on September 7 1978, three weeks after the album was released.

In the years since much has been made of the album cover, Moon (looking old before his time at 32) staring at the camera from a chair marked ‘Not To Be Taken Away.’

Such a sad coincidence was lost on few, ‘Who Are You‘ a musical epitaph to this most ebullient of performers.

Yet the saddest irony of ‘Who Are You‘ is not he was no longer the whirling powerhouse drummer of yore, but found in ‘New Song‘ – the line ‘we get hungover but we always survive it,’ taking on painful gravitas in light of what would shortly befall Keith Moon.

Just a few months before Daltrey, Entwistle and Townshend had cut an album track in his absence – now without him permanently, The Who and the music were irrecoverably changed.

THE WHO – WHO ARE YOU (Released August 18 1978):

New Song/Had Enough/9.05/Sister Disco/Music Must Change/Trick of the Light/Guitar and Pen/Love is Coming Down/Who Are You;

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NEIL SAMBROOK is the author of ‘MONTY’S DOUBLE‘ – an acclaimed thriller now available in paperback and as an Amazon Kindle book.