Three years earlier, in December 2008, The Who had been guests of George W. Bush and the Kennedy Center Honors Committee. This is an honour given to artists, and has nothing to do with politics. But I have to accept that it is doubtful I will ever be offered any similar kind of honour in my home country now. I will be denied that Pinteresque moment of being able to explain why I am turning it down.
Nevertheless, I trust in Britain and its democratic process. I am proud that what I do provides jobs, and although I am wealthy and privileged, in my heart and my actions I am still a socialist and activist, ready to stand by the underdog and the beaten down, and to entertain them if I can.
It would be disingenuous to say that I haven’t been affected by the perception of me shown by people who do not know me or anything about me apart from what they may have read in tabloid newspapers around the time of my arrest in 2003. I have long since abandoned my White Knight efforts in that department, but I am still painfully aware of the repercussions this might have had on the charities in which I had played an active part, and in which I am now obliged to maintain a low profile.
Just one click of my mouse to prove a point has caused a mountain of misunderstanding.
I have moved on. I have always carried within me a defiant, sometimes argumentative and combative pride. It still sits very close to the surface of my psyche, just under the skin, ready to flare up in anger, to leap out and fight. It is in my soul.
What happened to that kid brother inside me? The letter I wrote to my eight-year-old self is still one of the most important affirmations in my life. ‘Remember,’ I told him, ‘that the bad feelings you sometimes have today are helping to make you strong and talented and empathetic to the pain that other people feel. But you have a good heart and you will be OK in the end. Life can be hard, and what you will find hard is accepting how wonderful the life you are going to have actually is. This is because for some reason you don’t feel you deserve all this.
‘You have a brilliant mind. Unfortunately you are not going to exercise it quite as much as you should. Your self-esteem is too low and you will lapse into laziness that will slow you up. You have a brilliant imagination, and that will suffice to some extent. But you must be careful to try to respect facts. You cannot simply make up what you have failed to learn. Your academic failure has been a fundamental part of the engine that drives you to artistic inspiration.
‘When your mother criticises or demeans the way you look she is conveying how she feels about herself. She felt her mother must have had some reason to leave her. You too will go through an awkward adolescence. But today you are adorable, a lovely boy. Respect yourself. Try to remember that not everything in life can be perfect. You will make mistakes. That’s inevitable. But you are not ugly. You will only be ugly when you behave in an ugly way.
‘Enjoy life. And be careful what you pray for – remember, you will get it all.’
APPENDIX
A FAN LETTER FROM 1967
I am about to open for the first time a small blue envelope addressed to me and posted to The Who’s fan club forty-five years ago, on 16 January 1967. There’s a little arrow over the letter ‘o’ in ‘Who’.
It is very peculiar to be opening this letter to me from so long ago, from the halcyon days of the explosion of the pop-culture revolution of the Sixties. If a group of sixteen-year-old girls had written to me when I was, say, in my mid-thirties, I would have replied. By the time I hit my early forties I employed two secretaries to help me process the thousand or so letters I received every month.
The letter in question is from Anne, who writes in a familiar way.
How are you? You were great on Top of the Pops last week. Keith looked knockout, and dig your crazy coat. Fantastic!
She goes on to say that she’s gone off ‘Jack’ (‘Happy Jack’). She hates it. It is on its way out of the charts. She also advises ‘Mooney’ to come clean about being married to Kim, an event that hadn’t happened yet. She observes accurately that she’s not sure she believes the rumours because Keith is the sort to say anything for publicity.
She also chides John Entwistle for keeping secret his engagement to his school friend Alison. She then asks if I read Disc the previous week – a correspondent had said I was beautiful.
Anne then lines up twenty-two ‘ha ha’s to indicate how funny she thought the idea. Fascinating looking, but not beautiful. Do you think you’re beautiful? Does Karen?
She closes her letter by saying my time is short, and you’re so BEAUTIFUL.
The secret that I had a partner was obviously out; our insider fans already knew her name, and Anne was clearly an insider. She seems annoyed that I too am out of the running as a prospect, even though she also makes it clear she is attracted to Keith and John too.
She doesn’t mention Roger once in her letter. Roger had secretly married Jackie way back in 1964 – and Anne, of course, knew it. So he was completely out of the running, as far as Anne was concerned.
What I could never have seen, which I can see easily today, is that Anne loved me. I don’t mean that she was in love with me, or even that she desired me sexually, but she loved me.
That important adoring mist rising from between the lines of her letter, hidden between threats of withdrawal if we made records she didn’t like, and insistence that we didn’t try to hide our paramours from her, would have been almost invisible to me in 1967. My life would have been very different if I had been able to recognise genuine, loving adoration and concern when it was demonstrated.
Two months earlier, in November 1966, The Who played at the Winter Gardens, Malvern. Val from Worcester writes in January 1967 to thank me for taking her and her friend home afterwards. She hopes I can remember her – Val, the blonde one who sat next to me.
Val closes with twenty kisses – two less than Anne’s ‘ha ha’s.
CODA
I dedicate this book to the artist in all of us.
This is as much a note to myself as one to you. Play to the gods! In showbusiness the ‘gods’ are the seats right at the back of the theatre, the tough ones, where people got in cheaply and can’t see or hear properly, and chat between themselves and eat lots of popcorn.
For the artist ‘the gods’ is the universe, the big, abstract picture, the unknown, the open sky and sea. Focusing on the infinite universe might seem rather grandiose, or utterly aimless. In fact it’s as small or as large as we want it to be. Some of us believe there is nothing out there. Some of us believe we are surrounded by attentive angels. Whatever.
Play to the gods, or – if you prefer – to a small basket full of stuffed toys, or sing into the mouth of a hot-water bottle, or turn the knobs on a chest of drawers and pretend to be 20,000 leagues under the sea.
It’s all the same thing. If in doubt, just play.
PHOTOGRAPHIC SECTION I
Dad queuing at mess in the RAF in Germany, 1945.
Me, aged 2, August 1947.
My Aunt Trilby in 1947. Tril was the first to encourage me musically. (Pete Townshend/Don Townshend)
The Squadronaires, with Dad playing sax.
My grandmother Denny with her only son, my Uncle Maurice, and his wife Joyce in the early 1950s.
Me and my dog Bruce in the Acton Gazette.
My parents and paternal grandparents, 1954. Betty, Cliff, Horry and Dot. (Pete Townshend/Don Townshend)
Jimpy and me, snorkelling.
In my back garden in Acton.
Playing the banjo, c. 1958. I look like a little boy. John Entwistle, already nearly six foot tall, has his back to the camera and is wearing a trilby hat.
Dad, my brother Paul, Mum, me, 1959. Paul’s arrival had made us feel like a real family.
Playing Shadows songs with Mick Brown and Peter Wilson, 1961.
After supporting the Ron Cavendish Orchestra at Acton Town Hall on 1 September 1962, we were billed in the newspaper as The Detours Jazz Group.
The Detours, c. 1961. Roger let me join the band in ten s
econds: ‘Can you play E? Can you play B? Can you play “Man of Mystery” by The Shadows? “Hava Nagila”? OK, see you there.’ (The Entwistle family)
A photo shoot for Seventeen magazine at Blaise’s Club in London, late 1964. (LAMedia Collection/Sunshine/Retna Ltd)
In my Mod parka, 1964. (Dewar/Trinifold Management Ltd)
The High Numbers, 1964. Pete Meaden persuaded us to record under that name. ‘Numbers’ was a Mod subgroup of lieutenants below the fashion-leading ‘Faces’. (Trinifold Management Ltd)
Karen Astley, Richard Barnes (Barney) and Liz Reid in Sid’s café, 1964. (Richard Barnes)
Dancing at The Scene Club, London, in 1964 with my friend Barney to the left. John is in the check jacket, Keith is on the left and Roger is in the foreground. Between me and Roger is Pete Meaden, still our manager in 1964. (T. Spencer/Colorific)
The Who in London on a magazine shoot with Tony Frank, 1965. That year we played in Holland and Scandinavia, causing a street riot in Denmark. (Tony Frank/Corbis)
Windmilling at The Pavilion in Bath, 10 October 1966. (Chris Morphet/Redferns/Getty Images)
Karen and me backstage after a show, November 1965.
The Who’s managers, Chris Stamp and Kit Lambert. They were from different backgrounds. Chris, from the East End of London, the son of a Thames waterman; Kit, the son of Constant Lambert, the musical director of the Royal Ballet at Covent Garden. (Jan Olofsson/Redferns/Getty Images)
The Who and Jimi Hendrix at the Saville Theatre, 29 January 1967. (J. Barry Peake/Rex Features)
With Mick Jagger, before our fourth appearance on Top of the Pops, 10 June 1965. (Beat Publications)
Auto-destruction at the Granby Halls in Leicester, spring 1967. (Chris Morphet/Redferns/Getty Images)
The Who performing ‘Happy Jack’ on TV, 1967. After the recording, John and I went off to see Jimi Hendrix play at the Bag O’Nails. (Ron Howard/Redferns/Getty Images)
With Keith Moon, 1967. (Andrew Maclear/Hulton Archive)
Rock and Roll Circus, December 1968. We drank brandy to keep interested. We were at it until four in the morning; even Marianne, smoking heavily, was looking the worse for wear by the end of the shoot. John, Keith, me, John Lennon, Yoko, Keith Richards, Mick Jagger, Brian Jones, Bill Wyman, Eric Clapton, Marianne Faithfull. (Mirrorpix)
PHOTOGRAPHIC SECTION II
Our wedding, 20 May 1968. My best man was Speedy Keen (left of Karen). My parents stood behind me, and my brothers Paul and Simon stood in front.
Standing at the record decks in my Wardour Street studio, where I was pretending to be Guy Stevens. (LFI)
The blessed Who, at a photoshoot for Vogue magazine, July 1969. (Jack Robinson/Getty Images)
The Who, Woodstock, August 1969. (Henry Diltz/Corbis)
With Jack Lyons aka Irish Jack, early 1970s.
In my home studio at The Embankment, Twickenham, 1969. (Chris Morphet/Redferns/Getty Images)
With Mum and my brothers Paul and Simon. (Chris Morphet)
At a party with Mike McInnerney in his back garden, 1970. (courtesy of Mike McInnerney)
On board Babajan, 1973. I have always loved boats and the sea, and my time sailing was like a meditation.
Rock ’n’ roll excess. On 5 October 1972 Keith and I, with some help, launched The Who’s sponsored car in the 1973 Rally of Great Britain. (LFI)
Chris Morphet shoots Richard Stanley shooting Keith and me at Belle Vue in Manchester on the Quadrophenia tour, November 1973. (Chris Morphet)
With Karen, Emma, Minta and Towser, outside our Twickenham house and motorhome, 1972. (Chris Morphet)
Bill Curbishley, The Who’s manager, 1972.
On my whirlwind Indian trip, spring 1972, I played ‘Drowned’ for the first time in public.
Playing with the new Who, Madison Square Garden, September 1979. (Neal Preston/Corbis)
Minta and Emma at home in Twickenham, 1973.
With Karen, Emma and Minta in Goring, 1971. (Chris Morphet)
With my son Joseph, early 1990s.
With Sexton the Bull. Me, Robert Fox, Ted Hughes, Matthew Evans, 1987.
Chris Stamp and Nik Cohn brainstorming at Track’s Wardour Street offices, September 1971.
Lisa Marsh with our mutual friend Heather Reilly, 1993. (Robert Kirk)
I met the Scrabble hustler Louise Reay at the Embassy Club in 1981 and never won a game against her.
The Live Aid finale, 13 July 1985. David Bowie, Alison Moyet, me, Bob Geldof, Paul McCartney. (Neal Preston/Corbis)
In Osaka on our first Japanese tour, 2004. (Matt Kent)
Recording the cast album of Tommy with George Martin (sitting) and Des McAnuff (centre right), in 1993. (RCA Victor publicity shot)
Mobbed by fans outside the Beacon Theatre in New York during the Psychoderelict US tour, 12 July 1993. (Robert Kirk)
Brothers in arms: Roger and me at our intimate Indigo show, December 2008. (Gary and Melissa Hurley)
The Who were the final act of the Closing Ceremony of the London Olympics, 12 August 2012. (Patrick Semansky/AP/Press Association Images)
With Rachel, c. 2005. Met in 1996, still together in 2012. (Terry McGough/Rex Features)
INDEX
The pagination of this electronic edition does not match the edition from which it was created. To locate a specific passage, please use your ebook reader’s search tools.
AC/DC, 298, 315
‘Acid Queen’, 158, 180, 263, 269, 277
Adam and The Ants, 339
Adams, Bryan, 382
Adams, Jack, 215–17
Adamski, George, 110
Adderley, Cannonball, 117
Adderley, Nat, 117
‘After the Fire’, 391
Ahmednagar Queen, 294
Alcock, John, 201, 247
‘Alice’ (counselling subject), 483–84, 487
Alison (John’s fiancée), 505
‘All Along the Watchtower’, 108
Allison, Mose, 56, 57, 75, 85, 158
‘All My Life’, 10
‘All Shall Be Well’, 380, 391
Almond, Mark, 339
Altham, Keith, 120, 489
‘Amazing Grace’, 212
‘Amazing Journey’, 158, 188, 207
‘Amoureuse’, 267
‘And I Moved’, 437
Angela (Dawson’s girlfriend), 4
Animals, 135
Anna (Merchan’s partner), 380, 394
Anne (fan), 505–6
Ann-Margret, 262–63, 268, 269
Another Scoop, 390, 471
‘Another Tricky Day’, 343
Appleton, Mike, 263
Appleyard, Bryan, 371
Appointment in Samarra (O’Hara), 368
Aquaye, Speedy, 243
Arfur, 161
Arfur: Teenage Pinball Queen (Cohn), 161
‘Armenia’, 132
Armone, John, 427
Armstrong, Louis, 108, 386
Arthur, 164
Artist’s Way, The (Cameron), 465, 466
Ascott, Roy, 49, 56, 202
Asher, Jane, 116
Ashton, Sir Freddy, 360
Assange, Julian, 493
Association, 135
Astley, Edwin, 151, 379, 481
Astley, Florence, 392
Astley, Jon, 302, 303, 471
Astley, Ted, 294, 296, 348, 463
Astley, Virginia, 392
Astor, David, 368, 372, 476
Atkins, Chet, 54
Atlas, Charles, 132
Baba, Meher, 110, 138–41, 144, 146, 148, 160–63, 175, 178, 192, 200, 201, 226–27, 233, 236, 248, 278, 280, 288, 291–92, 295, 303, 315, 317, 324, 344, 356, 421, 492
Babajan, Hazrat, 139
‘Baba O’Riley’, 215, 306, 323, 337, 474, 497
‘Baby Don’t You Do It’, 333
Bach, Johann Sebastian, 167, 474
Bacon, Francis, 95
Bad Timing, 325, 329
Baepler, Greg, 405
Baez, Joan, 56, 294,
382, 470
Bailey, David, 349, 374
‘Bali Hai’, 26
Ball, Lawrence, 497
‘Ball and Chain’, 179
Ballard, Hank, 408
Band, The, 307
‘Barefooting’, 380
‘Bargain’, 215
Barnes, Richard ‘Barney’, 52–53, 56, 59, 60, 65–66, 68, 71, 77, 82, 86, 232, 248, 254, 270, 271, 292, 297, 302, 320–21, 324, 352, 419, 421–23, 427
Baron, Nancy, 172
Baron, Steve, 172, 215
Barrett, Syd, 106
Barsalona, Frank, 113, 174–75, 398, 400
Bart, Lionel, 101
Bartlett, Nick, 53, 55
Bassey, Shirley, 23
Baverstock, Jack, 66
Bayliss, Fran, 440
BBC Dance Orchestra, 25
Beach Boys, 76, 107, 123, 129
Beachcombers, 51, 67
Beaky, 191
Beard, Fred, 37–38
Beard, Jimpy, 13, 14, 20–21, 22–23, 24–25, 26, 35, 36, 37–38, 102, 214
Beatles, 53, 54, 58, 62, 73, 74, 94, 100, 112, 113, 116, 118, 123, 125, 136, 155, 191, 196, 268, 345, 379
Beat Room, 79
Beautiful Boy (Sheff), 431n
Beck, Jeff, 60, 96, 124
‘Beck’s Bolero’, 96
Who I Am: A Memoir Page 47
