V&B Hall of Fame Part 1
Every couple of weeks Vikings & Beekeepers will induct one album into its Hall of Fame (capitalization denotes legitimacy). The albums inducted into the V&BHOF (acronym denotes awesomeness) will not necessarily be a highly regarded classic (although it may be) and it will not necessarily be an overlooked gem (although it may be). The only defining characteristic of these albums will be high quality and the ability to inspire me to write about them. For our first induction I decided to go all the way back to the relative early days of rock n’ roll, back around the time rock started to get good. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s take look The Who’s 1965 debut, The Who Sings My Generation.
In comparison to other British Invasion bands like the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, the Who seem slightly second tier. They were later to the game (the Who formed in ’64, both the Beatles and the Stones were established superstars by that point), and they never got to make the bigger than Jesus claim like the Beatles or the bigger than Satan claim of the Stones. However, despite the underdog status, the Who were the first group to really get it right. The Who Sings My Generation predates “Paint It Black,” Rubber Soul, The Kinks’ Village Green Preservation Society and any number of albums or songs that critics fawn over for helping define the punk spirit. The Who were the first British export to truly make a great album that would later hold up well next to their more “mature” albums. Try contrasting Meet the Beatles and Revolver. The older album, of course, can make the claim of being fun and energetic, but there’s no depth. The Who Sings My Generation contains both youthful energy and musical depth in spades.
Album opener “Out In the Street” showcases the Who’s heavy R&B influence (the two James Brown covers that appear later may also be dead giveaways), with lots of call and response vocals and Roger Daltry’s bluesy rasp. But more than anything “Out In the Street” gives the listener insight into each band member’s unique style. Pete Townsend, the master of the grand statement windmill strum, provides the rhythmic focus for the song. Townsend’s guitar cuts through with precision, and in a time where distortion peddles and overdrive switches were scarce, Townsend’s guitar sounds huge. And it needs to sound huge, because it’s his playing that is establishing the rhythm, not the drums. Behind the kit is, of course, the octopus-armed Keith Moon, perhaps the greatest rock drummer of all time. Here Moon’s toms topple over each other, and it’s this sound that establishes the group’s rollicking sound. John Entwistle rounds out the “rhythm” section with a rolling, melodic bass. Whenever the Who played live, with Daltry doing the leading man thing, Townsend thrashing his guitar around and Moon simply being himself (did I mention is who inspired the character of Animal on the Muppets?), Entwistle had to act as the calm in the eye of the storm. But even if Entwistle presence may have been inert, his bass playing is dynamic – especially on this track.
After a slick and soulful cover of James Brown’s “I Don’t Mind” (streaming below) the Who kick in to the moody, proto-psychedelic, “The Good’s Gone” (also streaming below). Roger Daltry’s detached sneer contrasts nicely with the band’s sugary sweet background vocals and the spidery guitar lead underscores what amounts to one of the Who’s most sinister tracks. If it weren’t for the power pop harmonies that the Who did so well, this song could be mistaken for lost Stones gem or, if you use your imagination, a more streamlined Stooges.
“La-La-La Lies” is the Who easily perfecting the sound of First Wave British Invasion power pop. Ray Davies would kill to have this track on his CV. “Much Too Much” follows a similar path, but it reminds the listener that the Who valued the power as much as the pop. If not more so. Townsend and Moon were two of the strongest, most ferocious performers of their respective instruments. Both made an awful racket, but the awesomely catchy songs they were performing always buoyed it.
Next up are two of the Who’s best loved tracks. “My Generation” (more streaminess below!) simply jumps from your speakers. This is the song that meets “I Want To Hold Your Hand” in the playground, spits in its face and proceeds to beat the living piss out of it. John Entwistle’s bass solo rolls out like a punch to the gut. Townsend cockily throws a little lead flash into his rhythmic jangle. Moon’s drums distort and meander to the point where you wonder just who the hell is keeping the beat. Daltry only perpetuates the insanity with his dangerous stutter, which is less rock star pose and more Billy Bibbit. The only misstep is when Daltry sings, “hope I die before I grow old.” Apparently only Moon took the lyric to heart.
“The Kids Are Alright” (did I mention that you can stream stuff here? Oh, I did?) is essentially a perfectly written, sung and performed pop song. It’s no wonder the Beatles had to immediately get all “mature” after this song was released. Nothing they could write in this vain could come close to what the Who do on “The Kids Are Alright.” The harmonies on the chorus feel nostalgic, but not at all cheeseball or cliché. Hell, they don’t even necessarily sound innocent. “The Kids Are Alright” is pop sophistication in its peak form.
Following these two hits is a faithful cover of James Brown’s awesome “Please Please Please” that shows that the Who had more soul than their contemporaries; “It’s Not True” shows that they had more attitude than their fellow Brits; and the bass and piano wielding instrumental “The Ox,” shows that, at the time, the Who were the most forward looking rock n’ roll musicians of their time. Listen to the opening guitar on both “A Legal Matter” and album closer “Instant Party (Circles)” and you can hear that even early on, Pete Townsend was an ace guitarist. The opening riff on the former track could be heard on any number of contemporary guitar based albums. The jangle in his sound essentially gave birth to REM and countless other influential bands.
The Who Sings My Generation is a throwback album, recalling more innocent times with more innocent rock, but even listening to it over forty years after the fact doesn’t feel like an act of respect or historical contextualization. Today, it’s a pop/rock album that contains tremendous songcraft, musicianship and a whole lot of genuine attitude. Historically, it’s an album that, albeit momentarily, dwarfed its rivals and stood over them in every possible way.
August 24th, 2007 at 12:16 pm
Your paragraph on the song “My Generation” was my favourite part of this review. For some reason, I really can see two songs meet up in a playground.