Who Needs This?

["Scott Schrade" <schrade@akrobiz.com>]

I came across a review of IT'S HARD from Trouser Press magazine (12/82) &
suddenly Pete's apprehension about making a new Who album seemed well-founded.
Coupled with the fact that his last few solo projects haven't set the world on fire, it's
easy to see why Pete is hesitant.  Anyway, here's the review of The Who's last studio
album, IT'S HARD, which not only comments about the music but also Pete's lyrics.

**********

WHO HUM
THE WHO / IT'S HARD 
by Gregg Turner
Trouser Press magazine (12/82)


How hard is it?

*Very* hard:  listening to either side of this record in one sitting; sorting out a coupla
good tunes from a particularly *bad* lot; excusing this album's rampant mediocrity &
banal implant of deadweight music for past glory (historical perspective) & otherwise
myopic rationale.

The lure of the front cover (slick band photo) prompts conjecture about the moves in
the grooves.  Clean-cut Pete glares demonic as if "Can't Explain"-type *hard*-rock 
might be in the cards....Forget it ("Holy Letdown, Batman!!"), the sounds here to be
found're just this drab continuum of slow stuff with plodding, turgid vocals.

"Athena" is the single, side one's opening opus, & a real bummer a la FACE DANCE
(sic) / QUADROPHENIA.  (Why QUAD is mentioned here, I'm not sure; unless the
reviewer particularly disliked it. - Schrade)  Everything you can't stand about the singer's
voice (that grody, guttural resonance employed to, one presumes, *emote*) jumps out 
from above a weasily thin backing track on nowheresville guitar (jive jungle rhythms) &
horns.  Kenny jones plays the perfunctory Keith Moon patterns to the hilt - which is all
reet cos otherwise you'd never inna million years believe The Who could sound this un-
identifiably *bland* & *trivial.*  So the song dies a lifeless death a fraction of the way 
through, a miserable & boring non-event from start to finish.

Then there's the title track & it's way better than the rest.  Low-register singing & passable
melody (repleat w/ Towshendian chorus harmonies shades of "Happy Jack" - sort of)
combine for a few convincing moments; but it goes on much too long & an obtrusive key
change (sounds like) somewhere in the middle stripmines the simplicity.  But that's not all.

There's this, uhm, *other* problem:

    "Anyone can do anything if they hold the right card
     So I'm thinking about my life now
     I'm thinking very hard
     Deal me another hand Lord, this one's very hard
     Deal me another hand Lord, this one's very hard"
                                                    ("It's Hard")

If something smells sorta SERIOUS here you've caught the right scent.  And, it turns out, 
odoronos abound.  Excursions of lyrical GESTALT blown up bigger-than-life on the sleeves
of each of the nine songs Townshend penned pop out unceremoniously to CONFRONT &
CHALLENGE your perceptual hallucinations re: *life & death.*  Pete's logged a lot of time
thinkin' about alla this & it's clear that HE WANTS YOU TO DO THE SAME.  (All caps
are the reviewers as are the occassional odd, shortcut spellings. - Schrade)

    "The sun shines / And people forget
     The spray flies as the speedboat glides
     And people forget
     The girl smiles / And people forget
     The snow packs as the skier tracks
     And people forget
     Forget they're hiding..."
                                                    ("Emminence Front")

Now it wouldn't be so horrendous if you had (1) tunes that *cranked* & absolved attention
from the glowingly self-conscious *message* themes & introspective crosstalk ("Cry If You
Want"); (2) a better lead singer - even subhuman morons like David Lee Roth or John Cougar
would be a step above Daltrey-the donkey's brays of take-me-seriously, this-is-heavy-stuff
inflected delivery; & finally (3) crafted melodies or clever (?) arrangements if for no other reas-
on than to obscure the heavy-handedness of the words.  Townshend's soul-search for higher
spiritual planes is about as interesting as a frog in a trout pond.  Shrinks make big bucks listen-
ing to this heartfelt drivel ("I've Known No War," "One Life's Enough") - & drivel's about all
that's left in the *absence* of unrequited power-chord histrionics.

Two of the tree Entwistle pieces, "It's Your Turn" & "One At A Time," ghost semi-redolent 
of Mr. E's finer solo efforts (SMASH YOUR HEAD) but the magic is missing - nothing memor-
able sticks & it all sounds like glop.

Middle age has hit The Who like a ton of bricks.  There's nothing particularly FUN or ELECTRIC
or DANGEROUS about any of the songs on this record & Glyn Johns' wormy production only 
helps to make this more painfully obvious.  The conspicuous absence of these fundamental WHO
bldg. blocks is replaced on IT'S HARD with the listless sobriety of ADULTHOOD.

Me, I'd rather listen to Tony Bennett.

**********


- SCHRADE in Akron