"...the Who and me are here, now."

[Brian Cady]

>From The Ottowa Citizen:
http://tinyurl.com/kln6y

Who are you?
Chris Robinson looks back on what the band meant to a
troubled teen

Chris Robinson, The Ottawa Citizen
Published: Friday, September 15, 2006 
1982: I was 15 and angry. I'd just been told my father
wasn't really my father. In one sense, I was relieved:
I never liked the guy much. But now my birth was a
mystery. A tormented mother refused to discuss the
truth, and all of this unfolded during an already
fragile time. I was a teenager. Every day was a major
battle to uncover self and purpose. Now the struggle
was vanquished by meaningless anger, sex, rebellion
and alcohol.

Then there was light in the form of an English rock
band called the Who. I'd never heard of them, but
there was a buzz at Brookfield High School. The Who
were on a farewell tour and playing their final date
in Toronto. Everyone envied those who had the money
and freedom to go. Most could only watch it on TV and
so, with a school chum, I sat in the basement of our
Hunt Club home on Dec. 16, 1982 and embarked on a
journey that follows me to this day.

There was no magical moment that triggered it. I
probably just wanted to fit in, to embrace something
that would define me along the way to wherever.
Whatever it was, I became obsessed with all things
Who.

Fortunately, my classmate Deannie was a massive Who
resource. First she told me that original drummer
Keith Moon ("Moon the Loon") had died in 1978 after
overdosing on pills he was taking for alcoholism. Then
she led me to Richard Barnes' book The Who Maximum
R&B. It was filled with a ton of photos and anecdotes,
and it became my bible.

Using my measly part-time job earnings, I went on a
manic Who shopping spree. I bought records, posters,
T-shirts, buttons (which I still have). I even bought
an unused Who ticket from my summer co-worker at the
Airport Drive-In. Soon my room was covered with Who
posters and flags. It was all quite superficial, but
soon I began to dig deeper into the music and the
band.

Initially, I was drawn to all original members of the
Who. They were all quite different from one another.
Singer Roger Daltrey was the macho pretty boy. Bass
player John Entwistle was the quiet anchor who let his
play do the talking. Moon was the clown/wildman. Then
there was Pete Townshend, the guitarist and key
songwriter, the sensitive, moody one. The Who's
uniqueness stemmed from their diverse personalities.
Together they brewed a storm of emotions that seemed
to articulate all my own confusion and rage towards
myself, my parents, and the world.

I became enthralled with Townshend. He was the driving
force behind the Who's music, and he seemed familiar
to me. In a sense, Townshend lived through the other
members of the Who. Each had attributes that Townshend
wished he had. He was a chameleon of sorts, a drunken
clown like Moon one minute, a macho man like Daltrey
the next. Through his interviews and lyrics, I
discovered a multifaceted and fragile character prone
to moodiness, contradiction and an obvious identity
crisis. Like the rest of us, Townshend is equally
brilliant, stupid, funny, crass, caring and cold. He's
prone to pretensions, is a hypocrite, contradicts
himself, and says things that make you cringe (e.g.,
he once said he knew what it was like to be a woman).

The beauty of Townshend was that he was aware of his
complexities and contradictions. They were all there
in the songs.

In the song, The Seeker: "I'm looking for me/ you're
looking for you/ we're looking in at each other/ and
we don't know what to do." And in The Real Me from
Quadrophenia: "I went back to my mother, I said, 'I'm
crazy ma, help me.'/ She said, 'I know how it feels
son, 'cause it runs in the family." And perhaps most
famously, from Who Are You: "Tell me, who are you?/
'cause I really wanna know."

For me the song that said it all was a solo track
Townshend recorded in 1977, Misunderstood: "Just wanna
be misunderstood/ wanna be feared in my neighborhood/
just wanna be a moody man/ say things that nobody can
understand ... Don't wanna be either old and young/
don't like where I ended up or where I begun."

As my parent's marriage crashed in the late 1980s,
Townshend became the Greek chorus of my youth, guiding
me through divorce, depression, anger and alcoholism.
Like Tommy, I became the deaf, dumb and blind kid. I
locked myself away in my room with the Who. I learned
to play guitar and tried to play every Who song while
sneaking beers and drinking myself to sleep. Like the
protagonist in the band's first hit, I Can't Explain,
the Who expressed words and feelings I couldn't yet
find.

The major disappointment of my obsession was the lack
of, well, the Who. The band was "retired." I made do
with old bootlegs or the occasional Townshend solo
album.

Then, in 1989, the Who were reuniting for their 25th
anniversary. Once again they were ignoring Ottawa, but
this time I went to Toronto. In the moment, it was a
great thrill to hear them live, but in hindsight it
was a disappointment. Entwistle, Daltrey and Townshend
were accompanied by about a 15-piece band, and it was
a watered down performance. It was like a good Who
cover band backed by the Benny Goodman Orchestra.

- - -

The Who's influence on my life faded as I got older.
Each year brought a Who phase where I'd blast a few
albums, strum a few power chords. The Who never quite
left my side.

I had another opportunity to see them in 2000. A
friend bought me a ticket to see them in New York
(once again they skipped Ottawa), and this time it was
worth it.

We had great floor seats and the atmosphere was
electric. Gone was the orchestra. It was just
Townshend, Entwistle and Daltrey, with long-time
keyboardist Rabbit Bundrick and Ringo Starr's son Zac
Starkey on drums. Starkey had idolized Keith Moon as a
boy, and his energy seemed to transform the others.
They played with a fire that had been lacking for a
long time. That night in New York was my Who heaven.

The band's revitalized performances encouraged
Townshend. He began hinting that a new Who album was
possible, through Who fans took these words with a
grain of salt. Townshend had a love-hate relationship
with the Who. Every few years he'd say the band was
his albatross and that he would never play with them
again, then he'd strap on his guitar and hit the road
with them.

Even this I understood: it was similar to my
relationship with my parents and brother. Every year,
we'd tell each other to get out of our lives, then
time would pass and we'd found ourselves back in each
other's lives. Then there'd be a fight and we'd be on
the outs again. Our dysfunction was simply because
none of us could be truthful with the others. No one
could say anything but hate. Was it the same with
Townshend?

Things might have gone on like this if not for the
death of John Entwistle on the eve of their 2002 North
American tour. Always the bridge, so to speak, between
Daltrey and Townshend, Entwistle's death forced
Daltrey and Townshend to deal with each other once and
for all. The Who was reborn. They released their first
two original songs, including a tribute to Entwistle
called Old Red Wine, since 1982. The songs weren't
classics, but they showed there was still a spark.

Finally, this year, some 24 years after their records
began for me and, apparently, ended for them, they're
back. The Who's first album since 1982's It's Hard is
due next month and they're on a tour that includes
Scotiabank Place tonight, their first stop in Ottawa
since a 1969 show at the Capital Cinema.

I'm almost 40. I've overcome booze, found my real
father, got married, and have two kids. I'm living in
a very different world than I did in 1982. I have no
idea if Townshend's new songs will speak to me. It
doesn't matter. It's a bit like family and friends.
You don't necessarily agree with everything they do,
but a solid core connects you, a spark that keeps the
flame going. All that matters is that after 24 years
of chasing ghosts and demons, the Who and me are here,
now.

Chris Robinson is an Ottawa writer.


-Brian in Atlanta
The Who This Month!
http://www.thewhothismonth.com

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