Thoughts

["Herndon, Charles A" <cherndon@xxxxxxxx>]

Hey everyone,
	I don't usually post, but I can't help myself. I'm inexplicably at work today, having heard the news this morning and, like all of us, I'm hurt and devestated and in a fog. My best friend, a Stones
afficianado who I've taken on as a Who reclamation project and who saw them with me during the last tour at Nissan (and was blown away, natch), called with condolences this a.m. and wrote the following e-mail message: 
		"It's sad to see a great band like the Who just disappear. There are only two members of the band left. The talent is still there, but the soul is long gone." 
	The following was my response, and despite my pathetic verbosity, I thought I'd share it with those of you on this list who I've come to know as family, too -- Schrade, Brian, Keets, etc., etc. Anyway, the thoughts of one longtime fan on this dark day. . . .
Good morning, Rod --  
	Um, let me rephrase that -- it's not a good day. It's a very, very sad day for those of us who have received so much from The Who and John Alec Entwistle. 
	I think The Who has a going concern will disappear. THey were lucky to have FINALLY found an adequate replacement for Moon the Loon in Zak Starkey, but of course we know that Keith was, at the core of it, not replaceable. Likewise with John. He simply cannot be replaced. 
	One of the things that has been among the most fascinating and attractive things about The Who for me has been that each of the band members has been so individual, so talented, and so eccentric that to remove any one of them alters profoundly -- if not destroys -- the essence and creative oomph of the band as a whole. Other than the Beatles, I don't know of too many other bands about which you can say the same thing, including the Stones. The Stones have had a lot of permutations, but since the early 60s and the death of Brian Jones they have remained the Stones as long as they have had Jagger/Richards intact, and their core sound/essence doesn't change. You can't say that about The Who. There are many Who devotees who believe that the band was never the same after Keith died, and that's true, I think. How many other bands can be so altered by the loss of a drummer, other than those bands that revolve around the drummer such as Genesis (which went bust after Phil Collins left) or possibly Led Zeppelin (which went bust after John Bonham died). 
	Now, with John gone, you not only no longer have a true rhythm section but you've lost a large part of your melody/lead guitarist duties, not to mention a good chunk of your fans' favorite songbook ("Boris the Spider," "Heaven and Hell," "My Wife," etc.). John was, perhaps more than anything else, the anchor to that group as it was composed in the modern day. It took them 20 years to get over the death of Keith and work up the passion to begin to approach their glory days again, and now in an unbelievably cruel twist they have had the heart sliced out a second time. Everything is gone now -- a new album, the concert tour, and at the end of the day, the band itself. Townshend and Daltrey, despite their considerable talents, cannot hope to legitimately continue as The Who, and I would be disappointed if they tried. I think everyone knows that, instinctively, this morning. But such promise dashed. Such creativity never to be realized. Such glory never to be regained, and so close within their -- and our -- grasp. 
	Someone mentioned how heartbreaking it is to think of all the younger generations -- who were apparently warming to The Who rapidly -- now deprived at never being able to see or understand what the group was all about. And that's true. While it's comforting to have had that magical combination for a while, and we'll have their timeless music forever, it's just such a tragedy that one who was part of such an intricate machine died so suddenly and so young, and thus destroyed the delicate piece of artistry and craftsmanship and heart that was The Who. 
	I'm sure -- I hope, considering it's Pete -- that Pete will write more brilliant music, perhaps much of it inspired by this heartbreak. But just as after Keith died those songs that directly mentioned Keith and his death -- "Communication," "Somebody Saved Me" -- appeared on Pete's solo albums, so it shall likely be this time, too. Or maybe Pete will simply decide he's had enough of the fight, had enough of spilling out his soul and wearing everything on his shirtsleeve. We've all likely heard the last time The WHo shall perform and play together -- it likely will never happen again, and likely Pete and Roger have played their last song as The Who, and not even realized it at the time. 
	I don't know how Roger will carry on. He has always been defined by The WHo, and happily so. He has much less to fall back on than Pete, other than his acting career and his farm in Surrey, which does keep him busy, and his working on a movie about Moon. Maybe now he can start a project to remember the genius that was John. 
	As for your comment about the soul long gone, I disagree. I think the soul died just last night, and maybe that is what is so hard to take. Yesterday, The Who were on the verge of public recognition and greatness once again, a true Renaissance that all of them had worked so hard to realize, and that all of us in the fields took to be a given. There was nothing that could have slowed this juggernaut, nothing that could have deprived us at a second grand shot at youth, at passion, at glory, at love. For those of us long suffering under the accolades of bands like the Stones or Nirvana or Zeppelin, we were basking in the knowledge -- the certainty -- that it was just a matter of time before the world would once again be reminded just how dominant and powerful The Who was -- and after 40 years, no less. They gave hope and energy to those of us aging and questioning our own mortality and futures. They let us know that there could be second acts in life, contrary to what Fitzgerald said. They gave us hope. They gave us life. They gave us pure joy and happiness, besmirched only occasionally by a pessimistic Pete. And what else can offer a guarantee of such unadulterated joy these days? 
	Today, it has all changed. All that is gone. Poof! Just like that. It was false hope, of course. Reality -- again -- brought us down to earth. 
	Youth? C'mon -- these guys are nearing 60, we were reminded, and to prove that God has the last laugh, He took another one from us, just to remind us that nothing is greater than time and tide. 
	Greatness? Well, hell, we know The Who long ago earned that title. Who is guaranteed a second helping? 
	Hope? Ah, well, the very nature of hope is that it may spring eternal. Hope is hope -- it's always there if you want it. In this case, though, it was based on a unit of three continuing as they had, on their current trajectory, to what we all assumed was a preordained glory. Now, the unit is no more. The only trajectory I see in my mind's eye is that of the Challenger. The hope is gone, because -- and only because -- death is so permanent. 
	So we are left with the memories, and the questions about what is to come next from those who survive -- us and them, Pete and Roger. And, of course, the torturous wondering about what might have been, and that is the saddest part of all. My faith and my belief system tells me, as my own father lies dying in a nursing home, that we must celebrate what was, and not dwell on what could have been. But that is tough for me, for those left behind, those who haven't yet had the understanding that comes, one prays, to the dying and dead. 
	And so here's to John Alec Entwistle, the Ox, Thunderfingers, The Quiet One. Thanks for the memories, and for our future solace through the immortal music you leave behind. You were touched by God, and now He has seen fit in some unfathomable bit of cosmic wisdom, to bring you to him. Let us grieve. Let us mourn. Let us weep. Let us rant and curse the heavens. Let us ponder the imponderables and wonder why. 
	John, you're all right now, of course. It's those you leave behind I worry about. 
	Those who are left to drift upon the sea.
	God bless John, Pete, Roger, Rabbit, Zak, Queenie, his family and friends who are, after all, all of us.  
	-- Charlie in Baltimore
										-- Char