Pete's New Blog:Message to the Outside World

[Lowgens02 at aol.com]

MESSAGE TO THE OUTSIDE WORLD
I've been asked by our webmaster to communicate with the outside world. Or is 
 this the inside world? It is a beautiful day here in West London, completely 
 clear skies, but cold. Spring is definitely making an entry. Flora, goddess 
of  all that stuff, also has a role in fertility. A kind of ancient Greek 
Scarlett  Johannson. So, you guys feeling fertile? Are you mulching down the 
compost for  the growing season? Well I am. The studio garden here has just been 
hit by a  digger, and the Oceanic building - that for over 30 years has been the 
location  for my spiritual rallying cries, my best and worst drug jags, my 
wildest  acoustic experiments and my most serious recording work - is crawling 
with  developers. It is for sale. It is going, going going.....
My studio is by the river Thames, in a pretty spot, though it is not itself a 
 pretty building. I will miss the spot, but not the building.
I am hunkered down in my smallish home studio instead. That is both true and  
false. I have let go of the six creative spaces at Oceanic, but I do still 
have  this wonderful studio in my home. What is true is that I have a home 
studio.  What is false is that the word 'studio' suggests a single room. In fact I 
have a  number of rooms devoted to music and recording in my house. One of 
them is a  room that in 1972 was transformed by the then owner Ronnie Wood into a 
 conventional analogue 8 track studio, with the help of a company called  
Trackplan that I started in 1970 to encourage musicians to have their own  
studios. I think Trackplan collapsed about halfway through the building project,  
which was overseen by Ron Nevison who went on to engineer Quadrophenia with me  
and later became a big producer (Heart, Jefferson Starship). Des McAnuff (who  
directed Tommy on Broadway and is visiting London to mount Jersey Boys here)  
came to my house for the first time last week and when he saw my studio said  
that he could understand why I would never want to leave.
I never want to leave. But I am trying hard to force myself. I have requested 
 that our manager Bill Curbishley look at a winter Pacific tour, and prior to 
 that we are considering some webcast ideas and a TV thing for VH1. I think 
most  of you will know about some of this, at least as plans. Our recording 
schedule  has been pushed back to the middle of September, or later. For once 
this has  nothing to do with my songwriting output, as we are not recording my 
songs, nor  am I producing the record. Now you skeptics (we Brits say sceptic by 
the way,  which is close to septic, isn't it?) can see what happens when The 
Who are  completely freed from the evil clutches of Pete Townshend, jealous 
guardian of  the ...... I am trying to think of what I jealousy guard and it 
turns out I  jealousy guard my craft. Good idea I think.
As for The Who, great idea. We now sell peanuts, t-shirts, video games, funny 
 old songs from the funny old days when men were mods and women were mostly 
very  thin, and - a new venture - we help market VW commercial vehicles. VW 
have just  made a car that produces under 100 g/km carbon emissions, and will do 
70 mpg. In  London such a car does not get spat on by hippies, nor are its 
windows smashed  by hypocrites with inefficient home heating. However, absurdly, 
it also doesn't  get a reasonable tax break, neither is it released from 
London's congestion  charge. The latter is because it is not a 'hybrid', that is a 
car that might  produce far more carbon, and use far more fuel, but is driven 
by some Hollywood  film star (but only in Rodeo Drive - when they go skiing 
they take the Hummer).  Maybe Ken Livingstone (London's Mayor) wants to meet 
Brad Pitt? Don't we all? We  want to ask him - why? You had the girl who invented 
the JENNIFER for heaven's  sake! (That is, the hairstyle that kind of flicks 
up and out and in and is short  at the front and long at the back or 
something). Now you have the girl who  invented the MY DAD IS AN ARSEHOLE. To be 
honest, really honest Brad - I think  you did good TWICE. And, in my view, you 
deserve it if only for your work taking  drugs so brilliantly in True Romance. (Now 
men, stand by me here - yes Scarlett  is good looking, but too young. Is it 
not true that the best two women who ever  wafted through Hollywood have the 
same second name? And are sisters? One of them  was in True Romance, the other 
was in that thing with Maddie! And you're right,  I've forgotten their 
names........... it's great being 60-something. You just  forget - and fuck it. Arq!)
So there it is. The thoughts of the alternative Pete as requested. Please  
don't ask again. To borrow from Billy Corgan's book, what is really going on in  
my head would burn through your eyes and soul and leave you speechless with  
fear, rage, ire, disgust and helplessness...... etc. Really, I just had a dark 
 night of the soul on Saturday - nightmares probably caused by the fact that 
my  partner watches QUILLS all the time. She's a Goth. Billy Corgan - another 
Goth -  reminded me the other day that he had been dating Courtney Love when 
she first  met Kurt Cobain). I hear Courtney has been looking at property in my 
 neighbourhood. Courtney, this is where you truly belong. This is where we 
would  understand and welcome you. Truly, we know how to shock, we know how to 
rock,  and we know how to tock-tick-tock grow old disgracefully. 
Or you could try Essex. I did.
Speaking of the amazing Rachel, she is writing songs for her new musical  
about burning bodies, and she is getting better and better, at IT. It's going to  
make Jersey Boys look like a Boy Scout's Jamboree (in fact, surely that is 
what  it was?). It's going to make Tommy look like a Boy Scout's Jamboree - as 
well.  See, I've run out of metaphors. All my creative juice that could have 
gone into  writing the next great Who hit has gone into trying to make you 
insiders of the  outside world feel your $50 was worth spending here rather than on 
twelve cups  of Starbucks Frappoholica (plus a Macca CD).




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