Last night I heard "Baba O’Riley" on my iPod.  For all the file naysayers, did you forget the revelation of listening to music on your first set of headphones?  You feel so CLOSE!  You hear things you never heard before, even when the music has been squeezed to fit on the tiny hard drive in your hand.  And thirty five years later, despite all the classic rock radio airplay, the track was a revelation.  Because of the SOUND!  Which is still fresh.

I looked for the repeating patterns in the electronic riff buzzing in my ears.  Wondered about Pete Townshend composing it.  And marveled at the creative process.  And when my back exercises were done, I couldn’t stop playing Who songs.

I’d started with "How Many Friends", from "Who By Numbers".

It’s true, after "Quadrophenia" the band was done.  Townshend had a hard time following the legacy.  He needed to go solo.  So he could be less bombastic and more personal, painting on a smaller canvas.  But, he did whip out a few good Who numbers after 1973.  Like "How Many Friends".

How many friends have you really got?  People you can count on?  Who’ll come pick you up and take you to the doctor, who’ll listen to your endless drivel about your girlfriend who moved out years ago, even though she was never that great and is never coming back.  In an era where MTV paints an endless party it’s great to be reminded that we’re all truly alone, and somebody gets it.

After "How Many Friends" came the aforementioned "Baba O’Riley".  And then "I’m One".

There’s a version of "I’m One" from the "Maryville Academy" CD that you’ve got to listen to.  Because you can hear every member of the audience sing every word along with Pete.  That’s what believing is all about.  Needing to go to the show to connect with your hero, singing along with his songs.  Not worrying about how you look, or what merch you buy, or even who you went with, just reveling in the raw FEELING of singing along, thrusting your arm into the air.

The audience knows "I’m One" from its debut on "Quadrophenia".  Most people think of Roger Daltrey as the singer of the Who, but some of the most intimate, heartfelt songs were sung by Pete Townshend.  Like "I’m One".  It starts off all quiet, with an acoustic guitar, and then it EXPLODES!

And it’s not only about Pete, but the rhythm section too.  Keith Moon and John Entwistle are right behind their leader on the freight train.  God, when Keith adds his fills you remember WHY he was so special.  Somehow, despite all he added, you never got the feeling he was overplaying, that it was about flash.  As for Entwistle…one thinks of his playing more like a lead than an underpinning.  He’s got a sense of MELODY!

Still, the best version of "I’m One" is off Pete’s live solo disc "Deep End Live!"  Because it has the most INTIMACY!  The explosion is in Pete’s voice, not in his Gibson.  It’s got this funny exuberance.  The claim of the loner, the down-and-out denizen who believes in his RESURRECTION!

That’s the American story, the American dream.  It’s not about what you’ve got, but what you BELIEVE you can have.  That with solely the power inside of you, you can change your entire world.

The most fascinating are not the hucksters, trying to convince you of their superiority, but the loners, who surprise you.

Every year is 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

It’s the human condition.  Nobody’s a winner forever.  Even if you went to Harvard or were born with a silver spoon in your mouth there comes a time when it all doesn’t make sense.  The hours turn into days, you seem slogged down in molasses, you see no way out.

Some commit suicide.  But most are waiting for a comeback.  When they’re firing on all cylinders, feeling their power, that what they does MAKES A DIFFERENCE!

And "I’m One" turns that way.

But I’m one
I am one
And I can see
That this is me
And I will be
You’ll all see
I’m the one

This is how Pete Townshend felt, you just know it.  He had a prominent proboscis, he was gangly, but with the power of his guitar and his intellect, he was going to win.

Even to this day you feel this when you see the Who.  There’s an anger, a power, a need to SHOW PEOPLE!  Upon which you can only marvel.

But still, as much as you’re watching, you feel a part of the show.  Because this is YOU!

Everything sounded good.  My iPod slipped into "Behind Blue Eyes".  I heard the alienation once again.  Funny how things have flipped.  The stars of yore made it on their OUTSIDER status, they were a party of one, they fit in no group, no morass of partying fools.  Each band was an island.  With only their attitude keeping them together.

And then I heard that unmistakable sound in my right ear.  You remember it, from back when stereo effects were the Easter eggs of their day, before you looked for hidden gems on DVDs.

"Pinball Wizard" has that late in the evening all alone feeling that’s the essence of great rock and roll.  And when that electric guitar EXPLODES in your left ear you feel that with this sound you can win, you can defeat all obstacles in your path.

That’s what music used to represent.  Our essence, ourselves.  We vibrated like tuning forks with the works of our heroes.  It’s why this music survives, it’s why kids are drawn to it.  It wasn’t made for a market, but straight from the act’s heart.