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A message from Pete...



I spoke to The Who's ex-publicist Keith Altham a few days ago. Keith
would
love to be more spiteful about his old clients, and tries hard to
achieve
this without actually losing their affection. He told me that he had
invited
Roger to 'one of his lunches' recently. I assume they are not held at
The
Garrick. I've never been invited, but I suppose that's because Keith
knows I
probably wouldn't turn up. In the event Roger didn't turn up either.
Apparently he had been helping his oldest friend Nobby build a rockery.
Now
Nobby is a wealthy fellow with a big arghse. (It's actually a
self-built,
truly splendid neo-Palladian mansion in Chiswick which features large on
his
Christmas card). Having such a big arghse necessitates a big rockery. At

some point in the construction Roger and Nobby disagreed about the
rock-aesthetic and Roger was frustrated and upset to the point of having
to
drive home to his own big arghse in Sussex and miss his literary lunch
with
Keith. Keith told me this story as though it might one day become a
Great
Classic. I lay it out here so one can see it for what it really is -
evidence of Roger's desire to influence and control everything that has
the
word 'rock' in it.

The well-known rock combo The Who are lurching into another small season
of
live shows this coming summer, starting in the USA and probably drifting

back to the UK in the Autumn. We are, I think, rather pumped up by our
success at the Robin Hood Twin Towers concert in New York. We have been
informed by ex-President Clinton that we were the best thing on the
show. If
we are all to be judged as things I'd go for Destiny's Child myself.
Phwoar.
(I think that's how you spell it). Anyway, I don't think we need the
money -
not even John Entwistle needs the money - but we bow to Roger's passion
to
perform with the band he loves the most, and his desire to 'keep his
voice
interested'. Let's face it, Roger loves grappling with rock.

Prior to this - you can read elsewhere here - we are performing in
February
at the Royal Albert Hall for The Teenage Cancer society for which we've
already raised over #1,000,000. You might think we are overdoing it. We
probably are, but this is another of Roger's passions.

Prior even to this we are doing a few 'warm-up' gigs - probably three -
at
small venues in England. I'm keen to warm-up, though I know it is a
waste of
time. Better to go on cold, swear, play badly and endear the critics for
the
short-term. Then announce the release of a new concept album and
alienate
them for the long. Sad that so many rock-critics are such serious
writers;
my self-indulgent half-cocked pop-concepts must irritate. Their
unfinished
lifetime creative works rarely promise to make more than a few hundred
thousand quid. My worst conceptual brain-farts make millions. (That
sounds a
bit Jeffrey Archer, or is it Joan Collins?) I suppose it's for the
simple
reason that I add my delightful little songs.

Despite Roger's passion, I had to ask him to allow me some space next
year
to complete my next concept which will be even bigger and better than my

last one. It will also be roughly the same as the last one, but as long
as I
myself don't notice it really won't matter. Generously, as long as I
agreed
to tour - as aforesaid - the USA and go into the studio with The Who at
some
point, Roger gave me what is left of the year off. He did gently suggest

that maybe I should avoid involving The Who in my next concept. I think
perhaps like certain rock critics he hasn't noticed the essential
equations
yet: PT brain-fart = untold riches. RD brain-fart = unfinished rockery.

Between the irritations of raising millions for charity, warming up,
touring
small bits of the USA and making a new Who record, I am going to live
another life.

I am tempted here to veer off into a long thesis about what Tommy,
Lifehouse
and Quadrophenia were really all about, but I think it best to say that
like
Horse'sNeck (which I was persuaded by my editor Robert McCrum to falsely

describe as 'autobiographical fiction') none of these concepts are
autobiographical. Indeed very little of my song-writing is truly
autobiographical. Unlike the wonderful Ray Davies I do not deliberately
create visible characters through whom I tell my song-stories. But like
him
I do sometimes find characters are present in my work, behind the lyric
or
carried in the urgency of the music.

I have written for newspapers and magazines and spoken in them about
myself
openly and truthfully during my years in music. I think that has given
the
impression that my life and work are homogenized. In some respects
perhaps
they are, but one essential reality of my life has been overlooked. It
is of
course that I always wanted to be an artist. I mean an art school
artist,
not a pretentious pop-star vainly laying claim to a title that will
forever
elude me.

For Roger the mechanism is simple, and he reminded me of this a few
weeks
ago: for him The Who and his life in rock are paramount. The band and
its
success have made him who he is, and released him from a life building
rockeries out of necessity (and in incarceration?) rather than
friendship.

A few years ago I was writing my autobiography and had to stop - I
realised
I haven't finished something important I started in 1964 when I left art

school to join The Who. Unlike Roger my other life - my art school
ghost-life - actually continued to run alongside my life in The Who.
There
is for me a 'What if....?' life. It is a life I greatly regret not
living. I
am grateful of course for being a member of a great band, and for having

written lots of good songs, and played lots of good shows. But I often
think
about that life I could have had - had I not been swept along by the
early
success of Roger Daltrey's wonderful post-school band.

Rock music is often called a Rite of Passage. Where does it take us? I
believe all art - especially dramatic art - offers a mirror-door that
reflects darkness, transforming it into light. (Or if you are Irish,
reflects light, transforming it into mystical darkness). But the
mirror-door
I best understand is most effective when opened up by music, and most
actual
- most visceral and real - when opened up by rock.

My story is called The Boy Who Heard Music. It is about one boy who
finds a
way to get through the door.

I begin this project as a novel. I have it roughed out and will finish
it
during the first six months of 2002. When published it will form a
creative
adjunct to the first part of my completed autobiography. It will
interrupt
my autobiography. The story is about music, and contains music, and I
will
produce music as I work every day on the book. The music will be
released on
a CD or two at the same time as the book. I am going to document the
recording sessions on video, some of which should be especially
interesting
as they will form part of the Lifehouse Method experiment.

Here is the pitch...........

Three British children - two boys and a girl from different religious
backgrounds - find each other. Gabriel can hear music. Josh can hear
voices.
Leyla can fly. They grow up and form a rock band together. They become
famous and powerful. They marry, torture, love and fight each other. In
the
process they show the world the real truth behind rock 'n' roll.
Together,
they work a miracle.

Pretentious? Self-obsessed? Grandiose? Pompous?

I hope so.



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