The Who : I Can’t Explain

Easter, a time for retreat, reflection and revelation.

So, I have journeyed to the ancient flatlands of the East where the winds hit heavy off the coast.

By passed and forgotten lands filled with ghosts.

The ghosts of Boudicca and the Iceni.

The ghosts of Hereward the Wake and his Fen warriors.

Seried ranks of airmen from Wichita and Warsaw and Winnipeg and Waterford and Wellington and Worcester who flew one mission too many and who now sleep under endless East Anglian skies.

I stirred a few ghosts of my own when I revisited my old Cambridge College.

Looking up at the window of my old room I was teleported back 40 years or more to walk imaginatively beside the curious (in all senses of the word) youth who seemed to have spent a whole year reading Thomas Aquinas’ ‘Summa Theologica’.

614 Questions. 3125 Articles.

Everything that could be said and explained, Explained.

Man and God and Law.

And yet, the great Thomas himself overwhelmed by a mystic insight before his death came to regard his life’s work as nothing more than Straw in comparison to the reality he was attempting to explain.

Some things you know but can’t explain.

Some things you feel in your bones.

Sometimes your heart beats fit to bust out of your chest.

Sometimes the hormones surge.

The blood sings.

If only your heart would give up its secret.

If only you could say the words you are dying to say.

You’ve got a feeling inside you can’t explain

You feel hot and cold.

You’re feeling good.

Down in your soul.

Dizzy in the head.

Ah, but, you can’t explain.

You can’t explain.

Do you think it’s love?

Do you think it’s love?

Try to say it (go on you do)

Try to say it.

I think it’s love.

Love.

Forgive me.
*
I can’t explain.
*
I think it’s love.
*
I can’t explain.
*
Love.
*

 

They had been The High Numbers.

Now and forever they were The Who.

With this record they announced themselves as a great group.

One to stand shoulder to shoulder with The Beatles, The Rolling Stones and The Kinks.

A group bursting with talent and drive and character.

An unstoppable Force.

A group with a distinctive sound and ethos.

Modernists.

Mods.

Style and Attitude.

Attitude with a capital A.

The energy of the streets and estates.

The experimental approach of the Art School.

A sound emerging like a train from the dark tunnel of post war British History.

Specifically drawing energy from a City, London, throwing off the grey dust of the bomb sites and austerity.

London about to dazzle in thrilling colour after decades of monochrome.

The youth of London ravenous for the New, The Modern.

Purple Hearts. French Blues. Black Bombers.

The Suit. The Scooter. The Sound.

The correct number of buttons.

The barnet cut – just so.

Ravenous for clothes and music that was New.

Fashion and Sound that was Theirs!

Youthful beneficiaries of the 1944 Butler Education Act and the end of Conscription into the Armed Forces.

A generation not exhausted by a depression followed by a world war.

A generation not carrying the guilt of having survived when so many others had not.

A generation released into unlimited ambition.

A youth quake of disruptive, undeferential, talent and energy.

Ray Davies, Richard Hamilton, Mary Quant, Albert Finley, Pauline Boty, Terence Stamp, David Bailey, Julie Christie, Mick Jagger, Bridget Riley, Tom Courtney.

Leaders.

Emblems.

Faces.

Pete Townshend : A Face among Faces.

Fiercely intelligent.

Fiercely energetic.

Electric, overflowing with intelligence and energy.

Creative and destructive.

Make that guitar scream and ring like an alarm!

Smash that guitar to smithereens!

Write ringing, screaming, songs that tumble out trying to explain all that can’t be explained.

Be honest about how confused life is when you are young and the blood is singing and the hormones are raging.

Can’t explain.

Can’t explain.

Record and perform the songs with a natural front man singer.

With a bass player who holds together all the manic energy surrounding him.

With a drummer who plays the drums as the lead instrument and whose energy levels are always in the red, ’about to explode’ zone.

Absorb, contain and volcanically release all this energy through your guitar.

Attend to those funny dreams.

Again and again.

Tenderness and Terror.

Denial and Declaration.

Can’t explain.

Keep silent or speak out.

Tenderness and Terror.

Dizzy in the Head.

Can’t explain.

Can’t explain.

I think it’s love.

Love.

75 thoughts on “The Who : I Can’t Explain

  1. Fantastic writing: landscape, philosophy, music and emotion. The Who are top of the pile for me. I read a brilliant interview with Townshend where he said the key to their sound was that they played each other’s parts: John Entwistle was the lead guitarist; Pete was the drummer (if you think about it, even his solos are rhythmic); and Keith? Keith was the orchestra. It’s point illustrated by Roger Daltrey in the Classic Albums doc on Who’s Next. He’s in the studio with the master tapes of Won’t Get Fooled Again, and he turns everything off except the drums, but he can still tell exactly where there are in the song at any point because the drums follow the vocal line—definitely the lead instrument.

    Liked by 2 people

Leave a Reply to George Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.