I think The Who's early stuff is similar to other bands who followed the British Invasion. They're are lots solid, well crafted Pop songs with a great rhythm section but Pete's songwriting is still constrained by Pop conventions. If compilations were eligible, I'd take Meaty Beaty over the lot of 'em
Who's Next and Quadrophenia are exceptional in that nobody else ever sounded like them. I draw a blank when I try to think of a record that sounds similar which is quite rare in a genre that's notoriously imitative. The last two albums with Moon have their moments and the ones from 80s do too only fewer.
You know, I've expressed lately, and have maybe just come to intellectualizing a thought that I've held for a long time, and it's part and parcel to the social, to the religious, really. It's along the lines that only the rarest of souls are better than conventional wisdom, better than consensus. I see this with tradition, too. That one is only as good as the wisdom received and learned from others that have come before.
I read a fascinating allegory recently, and typed it up in the PSF to no response. It was a Catholic author named G.K. Chesterton, and it tells the story of a young land reformer that wants to remove a fence on someone's land. He agitates for its removal, constantly making pleas to a central authority that has overseen the fence, seemingly useless, for many years now. "Why," he asks, "can the fence not be removed?" The authority, puzzled, sees no reason why, and allows the reformer to remove it from the land. Years go by, and one day, out of the blue, the farmer on the land dies, the cattle get loose, and storm the town. Chesteron asks, considering our own mortality and our own limitations, isn't it wiser to ask "What is the fence there to prevent?" The off chance of our own mortality, in this case, but the main point of the story is to ask anybody seeking change what exactly the rules are designed to prevent, and by removing those rules, what are we potentially allowing.
And that's, I suppose, where I come down on that. I think that even within art, strictures and structures are there for a reason. Now, not all reasons are created equal and will be given differing weight by different people. Is the job of art to entertain the listener or edify the creator? Is there a responsibility of the artist to the listener as a conversant, really? What is the function of the artist in relation to other people, to both appreciators of the art, and (gasp) consumers of art? To what does the artist owe commercial interests?
All these questions come to bear, some easier to answer for the creative soul and appreciator, others more difficult to really account for. And there are more, but for brevity's sake, I won't include them. But suffice it to say that I view the strictures of song, convention, and other people very important in appreciation of a work. Now, there are the Townsends of the world, who understand the rules, and understand them so well that they can break them, destroy them like an amplifier or a guitar at Monterey and have it turn out ducky. And that might be what you're appreciating. But what I appreciate, and this is me speaking, is the tension inherent in the rules and the rulebreaker. Where convention meets innovation -- that first burst -- is what I find so edifying to me. What can you do within the proscribed.
And thus it is with art and I. I love the pirate radio gimmick and the acknowledgement of both commerce and limitation of
The Who Sell Out better than Pete unbridled by anything. One is expedient, rebellious, a creative reaction to a catalyst.
Who's Next is Pete with a notepad. I find the former more interesting. Everybody's mileage may vary.
