It’s almost impossible to find a CD in my house.

Driving down Chautauqua just shy of midnight, down from Will Rogers, where
I’d gone hiking to clear my mind, we spoke on the phone.  As I cruised up PCH,
back towards Santa Monica, the conversation elated me, everything was right in
the world.

After stopping at the Ralphs on Barrington for coffee yogurt and
decaffeinated Coke, I piled back into my ancient machine and fired up the XM. 
And that’s when I heard it, "Pure and Easy".

Pete Townshend has none of the dexterity of Clapton, he’s a far cry from
Hendrix, but what he wrings out of his guitar is just as precious.  We try it on
like jewelry.  We don’t want to watch, we want to get INVOLVED!  In a world
created by an outcast with a big nose who strums his guitar with testosterone,
but sings his sensitive lyrics in a high-pitched voice.  Yes, the first version
of "Pure and Easy" we were exposed to did not feature Roger Daltrey, but Pete.

I don’t travel without "Who Came First".  I need "Let’s See Action", "
Sheraton Gibson" and…"Pure and Easy".  I know it so well, I can sing every note. 
But this version they were playing on Deep Tracks, it was DIFFERENT!  It was
like the HANUKKAH version…it went ON AND ON AND ON!  It’s only a five and a
half minute song.  But by time I parked in front of my house, it was STILL
GOING!  Just when it should have faded out, Pete started noodling on the guitar,
not in a showoff way, but in a PLAYFUL WAY, like he was ENJOYING playing, like a
kid in the backyard, not the wannabe bluesman grimacing as he squeezes out
the notes, it was INSPIRATIONAL!  After sitting there in my stationary car for
minutes more, till the track finally ended, I rushed inside and fired up my
Powerbook and tried to download it.  But I couldn’t find it.

Then, I settled in at my desktop, researching, downloading other versions,
and none was the one.  So I e-mailed Earle Bailey, and ASKED HIM, what was the
version of "Pure and Easy" he played at MIDNIGHT?

He said it was from "Lifehouse Elements".

I own "Lifehouse Elements".  But, it’s in one of those slipcases, you know,
the kind with no spine, could I FIND IT?

I fired up my flashlight, I got down on my knees, I started combing the
stacks, looking for two jewel boxes that didn’t quite fit together, that might hold
a wisp of a package between them.  And, REMARKABLY, after going through six
stacks of seventy five CDs, I found it.  And I’ve been playing this eight and a
half minute version of "Pure and Easy" ever since.  When I haven’t been
playing "Behind Blue Eyes".

You see, I had to rip "Pure and Easy".  And seeing there was a take of
"Behind Blue Eyes" entitled "new version" on the CD, I had to take that too.  And
that’s where my adventure began.

There are arbiters of truth.  Rock critics who somehow seem clued in on the
true meaning, the true derivation of famous tracks.  If I write about the
Beatles or any other legendary act, I get e-mail telling me my interpretation of a
song is wrong.  That it wasn’t about what I thought at all.  To the point
where I’m trepidatious about going on record as to the meaning of any classic
track, for fear of looking uncool.  But the truth is, music isn’t owned by the
creator, it’s owned by the consumer, the listener.  Oh, there’s a joy in
creation, but the true joy comes from others’ reactions.  An artist in a vacuum is
tortured, just ask Van Gogh.  And that’s why Dylan will never explain his songs. 
They’re yours.  They mean whatever you think they do.  And sometimes…the
listener even has insight the author did not, because the greatest music is
written in a trance, with all synapses firing, running on instinct, the creator
isn’t analyzing, isn’t truly in charge of all his faculties, rather, he’s an
electrical storm, just firing off riffs and lines, which somehow end up as a
completed masterpiece.

Most musicians never listen to their records after they’re released.  Their
work is done.  Now, you own them.  They unfold in your brain.  I’ve been
listening to "Behind Blue Eyes" for almost thirty five years and I’m still figuring
it out, I’m still gaining insight.  And a burst came through Tuesday night.

I’m not absolutely sure what makes "Behind Blue Eyes" so great.  But I’m sure
it wouldn’t be the masterpiece it is without the change, the bridge, the part
deep into the song where it turns, where notes and words are played and sung
that have not come before.  You think you’ve got the song completely figured
out, and then…it changes on you.

And I’ve loved this part forever, but it was only Tuesday night, in this "new
version", that I finally understood the lyrics.  I thought Pete was singing
something about his "best friend"…  Oh, what came thereafter didn’t quite
make sense, but so many song lyrics don’t.

Turns out I was wrong.  Pete’s not singing about a friend at all, he’s
singing about his FIST!  Yes, when his fist CLENCHES!

When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool

Maybe it’s the artistic temperament.  I’m not in control of my emotions.  My
whole act is based on just channeling what’s in my brain.  Laying it down
without contemplation.  If I think about it, if I change it after I write it, I
ruin it.

But this is not how people act in society.  They assess situations, they make
judgments, they PLOT!  Oh, people think with all the vitriol I spill that I’m
one of those devious assholes, out to get them when they least expect it. 
They don’t realize that what I feel inside…is what they read on the page. 
There’s nothing more, that’s it.  No rumors behind the news.  No unexpressed
anger.  Rather, there tends to be calm.

But real life isn’t like writing.  You wouldn’t last long at the corporation
if you constantly told people what you felt.  And although I can get away with
it on the printed page, I’ve got trouble in real life.  Can I really say what
I feel, won’t there be trouble?

Oh, life is a game.  And if I told you I played it well, I’d be lying.

I can do this.  Not much more.  Well, maybe ski the zipper line in the bumps
when my back doesn’t hurt, but that’s about it.  And this makes it tough to
fit in.  I’m included because I do this, but I’m not sure how to play.  So
usually, I just shut up, enjoy being a member of the group, fearful if I let out
what I truly feel inside, there will be trouble.

But there’s a problem with this strategy.  I get frustrated, I get angry. 
I’m not who I want to be, I’m not myself.

But myself doesn’t like to play any games, myself likes to get hot, get into
a creative streak and surf the zeitgeist, burn the candle on both ends, till
it’s extinguished, till it flames out and I collapse.  And, I don’t think
anybody can truly understand this trance, so when I’m in it, I avoid contact, I
won’t pick up the phone, I won’t interact.  But today I did.

Oh, my fist was clenched.  I used it, and I lost my cool.

And now I don’t know how to feel about it.  I tried to explain, but the
points of reference don’t add up to others, they’re not easily understandable.  I
need to be alone, don’t bother me till…I need you?

But what if they need ME?  What if I need them and THEY’RE not available.

I want to be nice.  I want to be who everybody wants me to be.

But sometimes, I just can’t.