In the lavishly packaged 2011 ‘Directors Cut‘ box set of the 1973 ‘QUADROPHENIA‘ double album by The Who, composer of the work Pete Townshend wrote in his lengthy, but illuminating overview of the piece:
‘Quadrophenia‘ proved to me that rules can be broken and new ones established. The rule that was established on the original album as recorded by The Who was that energetic musical rage could convey the entire gamut of human emotion. We didn’t need throwaway tracks for light relief, we didn’t need light and shade, we didn’t need irony or humour, we hardly needed sadness.‘
Unusually for a latter-day appraisal of an episode in the history of the remarkable group for whom he was guitarist and principle songwriter, Townshend steers clear of sarcasm and ambiguity in describing the essence of the record. Throughout his 13,000 word essay, the most articulate rock musician of his generation looks back with suitable eloquence at an album that ostensibly is about looking back – whether it is by the writer or Jimmy, the teenage character around whom the mid-60s period drama revolves.
Across the four sides the music is dramatic, the lyrics eloquent, Townshend formulating a narrative full of intent in wanting to convey the human condition of a conflicted youth. Whether writing from this perspective in 1965 during the early days of The Who or expressing the same frustrations through the central figure in his portrayal of one eight years later, no other writer in the medium has been able to convey frustration from the standpoint of a juvenile like Pete Townshend.
Then again, there is no other album in rock history quite like ‘Quadrophenia‘.
By the closing months of 1972, when Townshend began developing ideas that would become the crux of the next Who opus, the group at this point were eight years into a career that had brought five studio albums (excluding compilations) and the stellar 1970 in-concert recording ‘Live at Leeds‘ that was already reigning as the undisputed world champion of recordings in this field.
Emerging in early 1965 with incendiary debut single ‘I Can’t Explain‘, The Who, through their pop art clothing and rebellious Townshend-penned songs struck up reciprocal recognition with the Mods, a UK teen movement whose origins in relation to haircuts and smart, eye-catching clothing could be seen as an extension of ‘Beatlemania.’
Beginning with their ‘My Generation‘ debut album of December 1965, containing the ferocious, era-defining title-track, The Who made a series of fascinating if occasionally flawed LP’s, each one, to varying degrees, (the first a stand alone set of power and panache), incorporating a conceptual theme – the ambitions of Townshend leading them from rebel yells to the full-blown rock opera that was ‘Tommy‘ (1969) in less than four years.
What also set them apart was acclaim as an untouchable stage act, the tumult created by Townshend, madcap powerhouse drummer Keith Moon, virtuoso bassist John Entwistle and vociferous vocalist Roger Daltrey was popular music presented in a way never seen before – all this before a performance often ended with Townshend smashing his guitar and Moon laying waste to the drums.
The worldwide success of ‘Tommy’ and renown for a concert experience without equal, elevated The Who to the forefront not just of rock music but contemporary culture as the 60s gave way to the 70s. Their status was enhanced further by ‘Who’s Next‘ (1971), an album of songs salvaged mostly from an aborted Townshend project known as ‘Lifehouse.’
This wildly ambitious venture, based on The Who and their relationship with the audience, infused with political, sociological, even futuristic elements, they were unable to bring to fruition – although the upside of this ‘failure’ was an LP containing some of the most exhilarating rock music ever recorded.
But in the form of a London stage show, while still occupying a sizeable chunk of their repertoire when The Who played live, ‘Tommy‘ continued to cast a long shadow. As 1973 approached Townshend was anxious to render his ‘deaf, dumb and blind boy‘ tale to the realms of ‘left, done and behind‘ – harboring designs to create a work of equal originality and impact, at the same time providing the group with a whole new body of material to perform on stage.
From the strands of several differing ideas and envisaged plots manifested an episode in the life of a young Mod named Jimmy, who in keeping with countless teenagers through time (1964/65 the era here in question), feels at odds with the world around him – this disconnect shaped by strained relations with his parents and the older generation in general. What sustains him is the sense of belonging he feels in being a Mod, although without finding a distinct identity for himself within the gang. Meanwhile Jimmy and his young cohorts find their emotions articulated in the upbeat, angry music of a fledgling Shepherd’s Bush group named The Who.
Townshend does not only set the story primarily in the West London neighborhoods from where he and bandmates Daltrey and Entwistle emerged (Moon from the further flung locale of Wembley), but gives Jimmy a split, four-way personality based on traits, perceived by Pete, to be those of each member of The Who – Daltrey (‘tough guy’), Entwistle (‘romantic’), Moon (‘lunatic’), Townshend himself (‘hypocrite’). These individual characteristics would be represented by a musical theme that recurs, depending on the mood of the central figure, though the record.
To emphasise the four-faceted responses Jimmy was wired with, Townshend had the further intention of capturing the album in full quadrophonic sound, despite no studio in the UK having the capacity to accommodate him. In the event such a notion was scrapped due to time and cost restraints. Instead The Who converted their equipment storage building in Battersea, South London into the best available facility for adapting the multi-tracked demos (featuring various guitars, synthesiser and piano) Townshend had made in his home studio into fully-fledged ‘Who’ material.
The bass and drum elements of these recordings he used as a guide before they were embellished by the indelible contributions of Entwistle and Moon – the bass player also given full reign to use his talents as brass maestro, decorating a number of tracks with striking use of trumpet, trombone and French horn.
After devising a construct so enormous in scope, such was his creativity Townshend soon decided the songs would be linked by sound effects ranging from crashing waves, radio news reports, a passing train, even snippets of early Who singles, ‘Quadrophenia‘ duly becoming as much theatrical soundscape as it was rock record.
Through the summer of 1973 when the finished article was being created, construction took place in both the literal and metaphorical sense – The Who, after recording a take or two, having to stop while builders needed to drill or cut brick, the renovation of Ramport (so named was the studio) and journey of Jimmy running a simultaneous course.
Yet despite these and other chaotic background circumstances – the erratic behaviour of Moon, unreliability of Kit Lambert and Chris Stamp whose nine year tenure of managing the band was drawing to a close, Townshend being either impatient or exasperated, which in turn resulted in a fist fight between him and Daltrey as the sessions drew to a close – The Who against the odds and at times in spite of themselves, managed to complete the most adventurous recording of their career in lifting popular music, once again, to another high level of achievement.
Indeed, during his exhaustive 2011 article that accompanied the ‘Directors Cut‘ Townshend went as far to say, ‘as musicians The Who never played better than on this record‘ while in the October 1973 New Musical Express review of ‘Quadrophenia‘, Charles Shaar Murray declared it: ‘The most rewarding musical experience of the year.‘
The first experience of Jimmy offered to the listener is that of a bewildered young man sitting on a rock, his emotions depicted by snatches of the musical stanzas representing his quadruple personality. These come forth in opening track ‘I Am The Sea‘ that carries brief excerpts of each, ‘Helpless Dancer‘ (Daltrey) ‘Is It Me‘ (Entwistle), ‘Bell Boy‘ (Moon), and ‘Love Reign O’er Me‘ (Townshend), all heard against the backdrop of the sea coursing around him.
Confused and troubled, he is reflecting on the circumstances that have brought him to this wave splattered, rain soaked juncture – a trail that heads backward to the revelations contained in ‘The Real Me‘.
Through this thunderous rock track that reaffirms The Who as the preeminent one voice, three instrument rock ensemble, it becomes apparent Jimmy feels misunderstood, the song recounting episodes with a psychiatrist, his mother and a vicar that achieve nothing, the youth needing them to be empathetic, in other words to see the ‘real me‘:
‘I went back to the doctor to get another shrink/I sit and tell him about my weekend/But he never betrays what he thinks/Can you see the real me doctor, doctor?’
On one of the last great rousing Who performances captured on record, most of which are found across these four sides, Entwistle is devastatingly dexterous, Moon brilliant in his belligerence, Townshend flays to fiery effect while Daltrey roars out the reasons why a young man is being swamped by inner turmoil.
Front man Daltrey is nowhere to be heard on the next up title track, a flamboyant instrumental that begins with Townshend adopting some trademark flourishes on acoustic guitar before it expands into a carefully constructed piece where drama and melodicism go hand in hand.
Encompassing the four motifs forming the character of Jimmy, to all intents and purposes it serves the same purpose to the ‘Overture‘ on ‘Tommy‘, Townshend resisting any temptation to use it as the opening cut. Moon and Entwistle play with finesse and fire in the midst of inventive electric guitar and synthesiser work from the composer, who on one hand has constructed a vivid piece demonstrating just how formidable The Who were when working purely as a musical ensemble. On the other hand, in the year of ‘Tubular Bells‘ he might also have been demonstrating how prog-rock could be done with purpose.
An imaginatively assembled track, the term ‘Quadrophenia‘ is a made up Townshend word based on his quadrophonic intentions and the mild schizophrenia found in the central figure.
More straightforward in meaning, ‘Cut My Hair‘ gives its name to a resonant, at times serene, song that depicts the strain Jimmy feels in relating to his parents, their fractured relationship drawn in a series of emotive, yet simple lines. Sung in the verses by Townshend, Jimmy is in conflict as much with himself as anyone else, those closest to him bearing the brunt of his disillusionment:
‘Why should I care if I have to cut my hair/I got to move with the fashion or be outcast/I know I should fight/But my old man, he’s really alright/And I’m still living at home/Even though it won’t last.’
With an effective change of pace the plaintive singing of Pete is replaced in the chorus by the powerful introduction of Daltrey, emphasising Jimmy undergoing a change of mood as aggression replaces anguish. Townshend laces the couplets with detail from the time, referencing fashion and the confrontations between Mods and their arch rivals the Rockers (who dressed in conventional biker gear), that culminated in violent clashes at seaside resorts in the south of England through 1964 and early 1965.
‘Zoot suit, white jacket with side vents/Five inches long/I’m out on the street again and I’m leaping along/Dressed right for a beach fight/But I just can’t explain/Why that uncertain feeling is still here in my brain.’
Yet in the wistful confines of the verses Jimmy wishes for reconciliation rather than rancour, even if he knows a line has been crossed when amphetamine pills (the drug of choice for Mods) are found in his bedroom, the consequences of which are likely banishment from the family home:
‘The kids at school/Have parents that seem so cool/And though I don’t want to hurt them/Mine want me their way/I clean my room and my shoes/But my mother found a box of blues/And there doesn’t seem much hope/They’ll let me stay.’
The final lines of this outstanding piece (removed from the storyline it would still rank as a brilliant sketch of parent/teenager strife), are sung by Jimmy, again through Townshend (‘I’m coming down/Got home on the very first train from town/My dad just left for work/He wasn’t talking/It’s all a game/And inside, I’m just the same/My fried egg makes me sick first thing in the morning’) and heard above the sounds of a whistling kettle and radio news report of another Mod against Rocker seafront battle.
Experiencing antipathy on the home front, he finds his faith in those casting influence rocked further on being rebuffed by local heroes, Jimmy barely given a second glance by The Who when he encounters them after a club date – no writer better equipped than Townshend in examining the relationship between artist and audience, the episode strikingly captured in ‘The Punk and the Godfather‘.
Featuring another magnificent Who performance built upon ringing Townshend power chords, melodic bass and cascading drums, Daltrey produces an exceptional lead vocal as the writer indulges in some clever wordplay (‘I’m the punk with the stutter‘ a cheeky reference to ‘My Generation‘), in articulating the betrayal Jimmy feels on seeing his favourite band losing touch with their core following.
But the most trenchant lines emanate from ‘the Godfather‘, Townshend taking lead vocal duties in expressing the responsibility felt by a performer who feels committed to respecting those buying the records and attending concerts:
‘I have to be careful not to preach/I can’t pretend that I can teach/And yet, I lived your future out/By pounding stages like a clown.’
Such an adroit lyrical passage would not have been out of place in songs featured on ‘The Who By Numbers‘ (1975) when Townshend articulated the contradictions on being a rock star at thirty in a way none of his contemporaries, not Jagger, Lennon, McCartney or even Dylan could have managed – little wonder then, that in the same year the New Musical Express deemed him ‘the thinking-man’s rock musician, rock music’s thinking man.’
Opening side two is the exquisite folk ballad ‘I’m One‘, Townshend accompanying himself on acoustic guitar with light electric work for melancholy effect, as Jimmy is found down and despairing.
‘Every year, it’s the same and I feel it again/I’m a loser, no chance to win/Leaves start falling, comedown is calling/Loneliness starts sinking in.’
As The Who once again perform brilliantly as a trio (obviously Pete is no Daltrey as a singer, but his voice can still be expressive), Jimmy has not lost all self-worth, (‘I can see that this is me/And I will be/You’ll all see I’m the one‘), yet doubts and vulnerability are never far away, Townshend masterful in finding the right evocation of mixed-up kid:
‘But I can’t get that even tanned look on my face/Ill-fitting clothes and I blend in the crowd/Fingers so clumsy, voice too loud.’
Constructed upon a framework of keyboards, ‘The Dirty Jobs‘ has Jimmy disillusioned with what the employment market has to offer, dead end occupations offering nothing in the way of incentive or accomplishment. He is, however, not just critical of the lack of opportunities, but also of those who unthinkingly accept their lot, his ire directed at an age group who have gone through all manner of danger to reach this point:
‘I am a young man, I ain’t done very much/You men should remember how you used to fight.’
Through the lyric, set against a soaring synthesiser sound which at times resembles an electronic brass section, Townshend skillfully presents Jimmy as a mass of contradictions, one moment declaring, ‘I’m being put down, I’m getting pushed ’round’, but in the bridge his viewpoint is compromised to the point of self-loathing:
‘My karma tells me/”You’ve been screwed again/If you let them do it to you/You’ve got yourself to blame/
It’s you who feels the pain/It’s you who takes the shame.”
Opening with a fanfare played by Entwistle on French horn, ‘Helpless Dancer‘ (Roger’s theme), proceeds with a forceful and repeated piano chord over which Daltrey offers a forthright vocal. The words relay just how much Jimmy loathes the barriers of class, the track mixed in such a way lines alternate from one speaker to another in adding to the dramatic effect.
Halfway through Townshend weighs in with some resounding acoustic guitar that adds to the propulsion, the piece concluding with the stark observation, ‘And when a man is trying to change/It only causes further pain/You realize that all along/Something in us going wrong.’
The song least connected to the plot, ‘Is It in My Head‘ is a vibrant cut recorded by The Who in April 1972. While Townshend has asserted it addresses the self doubt Jimmy is burdened by (‘Statements to a stranger/Just asking for directions/Turn from being help to being questions‘), the questioning tone sounds more autobiographical of the composer than his character creation, hence the most restrained Daltrey vocal on the album.
If a degree of hesitancy was to be found there, it is quickly dispelled by ‘I’ve Had Enough.’ The crashing drums of Moon announce an explosive track signifying Jimmy has reached the end of his tether in trying to establish worth in society and within the Mods.
The lead vocal switches to Townshend for a refrain containing a number of Mod subtleties (‘My jacket’s going to be cut slim and checked/Maybe a touch of seersucker with an open neck/I ride a GS scooter with my hair cut neat/I wear my war time coat in the wind and sleet‘). After a snippet of ‘Love Reign O’er Me‘ comes chapter and verse of what Jimmy has grown tired of, a litany of things he no longer feels are of worth.
These are laid out over intertwining acoustic and electric guitars with banjo added for good measure, the pace slowed for maximum emphasis as this diatribe of disillusionment ends with, ‘I’m finished with the fashions/And acting like I’m tough/I’m bored with hate and passion/I’ve had enough of trying to love‘ – the final word bellowed by Daltrey to symbolise Jimmy wrecking his prized Vespa scooter.
In the moment he decides to head for Brighton, a scene of excitement when visited with fellow Mods, believing that sense of exhilaration can be recreated – the quest for adventure necessitating a rail journey.
With a prelude of distant station announcements followed by the close up sound of a train door closing, a snatch of ‘Cut My Hair‘ segues into the pulsating blast that is ‘5.15‘ – an edited version of which reached number twenty on the U.K. singles chart in late autumn 1973.
Captured at their most rampaging with the added dimension of sterling piano work by Joe Cocker sideman Chris Stainton and the blaring horns of Entwistle, Jimmy, in the extensive photo booklet that accompanies the album, is pictured on the Brighton-bound express, between two uptight commuters, his head known to be spinning from the effect of the pills imbibed.
The lyrics are a scattergun summary of all he has felt in recent days, Daltrey sinking his teeth with relish into words that roll and resound (‘Quiet storm water, m-m-my generation/Uppers and downers/Either way blood flows‘), Townshend keeping the chorus dramatic but deft at the same time:
‘(Inside outside), Leave me alone/(Inside, outside) Nowhere is home/(Inside, outside) Where have I been?/ Out of my brain on the 5:15.‘
His arrival in Brighton corresponds with come down from the amphetamine-induced high, the new surroundings and emotions they evoke gathered together in ‘Sea and Sand‘.
Beautifully introduced by Townshend, who once again proves himself master of acoustic guitar in a rock context, the change of scenery does nothing to quell the resentment he feels toward his parents (‘They finally threw me out/My mum got drunk on stout/My dad couldn’t stand on two feet as he lectured about morality‘) or yearning for the girlfriend he now appears to have lost, (‘I see her dance across the ballroom/
UV light making star-shine of her smile‘).
Daltrey sings the verses of this atmospheric ballad with admirable restraint, Townshend injecting energy with a burst from ‘I’ve Had Enough‘ before the song reverts back to Roger whose delicate phrasing belies the terse sentiments of the protagonist:
‘I’m wet and I’m cold/But thank God I ain’t old/Why didn’t I say what I mean/I should’ve quit home at fifteen/There’s a story that the grass is so green/What did I see? Where have I been?/Nothing is planned by the sea and the sand.’
The song picks up momentum toward the end, Townshend singing out ‘I’m The Face‘ as things power to a close. Immersed into some frenetic playing, the reference is to a 1964 single issued by The High Numbers, the incarnation of Daltrey, Entwistle, Moon and Townshend before they became The Who.
The mood barely slackens with the upbeat, somewhat jaunty opening to ‘Drowned‘, the sprightly music intriguingly out of kilter with the pessimistic notions of the lyric – Jimmy contemplating release from the land by embracing the sea:
‘I am not the actor/This can’t be the scene/But I am in the water/As far as I can see.’
Early in the song Jimmy reveals ‘I ain’t seen a sign of my hero‘, his main purpose in going to Brighton that of reconnecting with the ‘Ace Face’, the reckless, well-dressed leader of the Mods, a figure revered by Jimmy the last time he was in the vicinity. But another illusion is shattered when he encounters the once debonair, devil-may-care character of his memory working as a down-at-heel, hotel porter, Keith’s theme represented in ‘Bell Boy.’
In a track dominated by Moon – from the power-packed drumming that ushers it into taking the vocal part of the ‘Bell Boy‘ – the rest of the group keep busy in this propulsive cut, Daltrey setting the scene before Jimmy finds his erstwhile tribal leader in diminished circumstances:
‘Ain’t you the guy who used to set the paces/Riding up in front of a thousand faces/I don’t suppose you would remember me/But I used to follow you back in sixty three.’
After giving a brief summary of where his life is now (Keith adopting an exaggerated, part posh/part cockney accent for the role), the once ‘Ace Face’ has to answer the call of work in an establishment he once led a gang of rampaging Mods through:
‘(Bell boy!) I gotta get running now/(Bell boy!) Keep the lip buttoned down/(Bell boy!) Carry the bloody baggage out/(Bell Boy!) Always running at someone’s heel/You know how I feel/Always running at someone’s heel.’
For Jimmy the sight of him rushing about to order amounts to one more betrayal of belief, another idol found vacuous and venial. Such is his downward spiral it only seems a matter of time before emotional breaking point is reached, Jimmy – and Townshend to a large degree – going for broke in ‘Doctor Jimmy’.
With extensive use of horns and synthesiser strings, Jimmy feels brazen and full of braggadocio as Daltrey punches out the lyrics:
‘Laugh and say I’m green/I’ve seen things you’ve never seen/Talk behind my back/I’m off the beaten track/I’ll take on anyone/Ain’t scared of a bloody nose/Drink ’til I drop down/With one eye on my clothes.‘
With ‘Doctor Jimmy‘ a persona who appears only at certain times, (‘Doctor Jimmy and Mister Jim/When I’m pilled you don’t notice him/He only comes out when I drink my gin‘), the less belligerent side of his nature appears with another excerpt of John’s ‘Is It Me‘ theme, Jimmy still striving to find his identity. The search continues when he steals a boat and sets off haphazardly for the near distance, his dilemmas swirling all around in the ‘The Rock.’
For the second instrumental passage of the record, where the four motifs again intertwine, Townshend utilises a battery of guitars, piano, drums and horns, the synthesiser alternately quivering or distinctly pronounced.
In his ‘Directors Cut‘ recollections he describes the ambitious intention of each theme being played at once during ‘The Rock‘ then coming together at the centre of the sound-field, before going back to their respective speaker in the four-way process (‘It was an audacious idea,’ reflected Townshend, ‘and might have worked had quadrophonic sound taken off‘). But what did manifest was the epiphany it was meant to represent – Jimmy left with nothing else to do other than pray.
Indeed, the finale of ‘Love Reign O’er Me‘ (Pete’s theme), is a plea for guidance and redemption. Yet what comes back is not a voice from on high – Jimmy, ostracized by his parents, feeling let down by The Who, the Ace Face and in being Mod, hearing only the sound of rain splashing against himself and the rock.
Opening with intricate piano chords that showed Townshend could be just as innovative composing at keyboards as he was on guitar, the song becomes an anthem of catharsis, (‘I can’t sleep and I lay and I think/The night is hot and black as ink/Ooh God, I need a drink of cool, cool rain‘), the listener left with no definite conclusion of what befalls Jimmy and allowed to decide his fate for themselves.
But there is not a shred of doubt in the Daltrey scream that takes the song ever closer to its climax, being so profound it not only conveys how Jimmy feels, but captures the angst of every teenager through time who believes they have been misjudged.
We cannot be certain what happens to him, whether he goes back to London, manages a reconciliation of sorts with his parents and matures into a young adult – or if Jimmy even survives the crisis of faith he suffers out on the rock. What did not survive the tumultuous ending of the track was the studio drum kit that was reduced to debris in the pummeling it received from Moon.
On being released in late-October 1973 The Who were lauded by the critics for such a momentous achievement, the album reaching number two on both the U.S. and U.K. charts. While six years later the record was adapted for cinema and in the hands of director Franc Roddam became a landmark British film of the late-20th century, in the short term ‘Quadrophenia‘ created more problems for Pete Townshend than it solved.
Barely a week after it appeared The Who went out on the road after precious little time to develop the songs for concert representation. The challenge of playing along to backing tapes, needed to replicate the broad scope of the music, proved such a trial that night after night one ‘Quadrophenia‘ number after another was dropped from the set-list.
Having then to explain the ethos of Mod culture to U.S. audiences largely unaware of this short-lived UK trend from the mid-60s, gave the American tour of November/December 1973 another issue to contend with.
Coupled with the unpredictability of Moon, whose maniacal conduct led to abandonment of a gig at San Francisco Cow Palace due to the drummer taking an elephant tranquilizer as a stimulant and despondency of Townshend at seeing the masterpiece he had so painstakingly created never reach its full potential when presented live (not at this juncture at least), led many in their inner sanctum – accomplished soundman Bobby Pridden for one – to breath a sigh of relief when the ‘Quadrophenia‘ tapes were packed away.
By the time The Who performed at Charlton Athletic Football Ground in South London to 55,000 on May 18 the following year, their 21 song set contained only four from a double album barely six months old – the crowd rising as one to acclaim beloved 60s singles, favourites from ‘Who’s Next‘ and not insignificantly, rousing renditions of ‘Pinball Wizard‘ and ‘See Me, Feel Me.’
Shortly after the Charlton performance, director Ken Russell began shooting his latest film and with Daltrey in the lead role, a cameo for Moon and Townshend taking charge of soundtrack production, ‘Tommy‘ and not Jimmy remained somebody who would not go away…………
THE WHO – QUADROPHENIA (Released October 26 1973):
I Am The Sea/The Real Me/Quadrophenia/Cut My Hair/The Punk and the Godfather/I’m One/The Dirty Jobs/Helpless Dancer/Is It in My Head/I’ve Had Enough/5.15/Sea and Sand/Drowned/Doctor Jimmy/The Rock/Love Reign O’er Me;
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NEIL SAMBROOK is the author of ‘MONTY’S DOUBLE‘ – an acclaimed thriller now available in paperback and as an Amazon Kindle book.
