Mark Wilkerson - Who Are You: The Life of Pete Townshend

I think this honest thing really comes from something else: it comes from an openness rather than honesty. I dont think Im particularly honest. But theres nothing about me that I want to keep secret I wanna be judged for what I am, and thats why Im as open as I can possibly be

I dont really talk about my problems because I think people are interested in my problems. I talk about them because I think they might be archetypal, because they may be general, because they might be things that people can identify with, and that my thinking processes might actually allow people to get a look at themselves

Pete Townshend, 1982

The overriding emotion that remains with me since I first read this tremendous book is one of extreme gratitude to Mark Ian Wilkerson who has painstakingly pieced together a fascinating puzzle, bringing into focus the life of Pete Townshend in all its complexity and glory. It cannot have been easy.

That it took ten years to complete surprises me not in the least, and Townshend himself should receive much of the credit for this since the extraordinary life he has led offers both generous and worthy opportunities for scrutiny. Through the ages Pete has offered his listeners huge doses of introspection, delivered both lyrically and in interviews, narrating his own story as it progressed in a way that is without parallel in rock. Within these pages both mediums are not only fully explored but braided together, creating a chronological fabric with a tight and intricate weave.

In many ways this book can be considered the ultimate collection of PT/Who information. And Mr Wilkerson shows the tenacity of a supreme collector, a biographer who understands that in order to have pride in the collection there cant be any holes in the cloth. I was perpetually amazed at how many new insights I gained from these pages, and this is coming from someone who thought he knew everything there was about the subject. I know there are many of you out there just like me, because we have met at shows and in late night bars where we have watched the sun come up fuelled by stories and experiences of all things Pete and The Who. As testimony to the revelations herein, there were things I discovered about nights when was I actually there, sometimes even onstage.

Petes journey is remarkable not only in its exploration of music and spirituality (and a combination of the two), but because we as listeners have been privileged to join him for the ride. It is a unique relationship between artist and follower. In my case, looking back to adolescence from where I am now, it stands as perhaps the longest relationship Ive ever had! So outside of Pete being an icon, legendary composer and fucking great guitar player, I will always see him as a teacher. And this book is full of lessons, a few I had forgotten, a few I wont forget again.

As someone who has dedicated a formidable amount of his energy to absorbing what an artist or group has to offer, this book offers a final unsuspected gift; not just a reminder, but a validation of that devotion. That of all the bands, authors and artists you could have attached yourself to, aligning with Pete Townshend and The Who instigated the greatest of rides; an incredible trip that was both visceral and intellectual, outwardly passionate and inwardly contemplative, a roadmap of peaks and valleys and destinations for which to aspire. It is with that realisation that I offer my final expression of gratitude, this time to Pete. For changing music, affecting minds, and giving love.

Enjoy your ride.

Eddie Vedder
Seattle
November, 2007

To the groups of practicing mods who populated London in the early Sixties, life outside the local dance halls, clubs, clothes shops and other various gathering places was of minimal importance. They were consumed with their appearance, from their short, carefully styled hair down to their made-to-measure shoes. The fashions were quite specific: Fred Perry shirts, narrow trousers or Levis shrink-to-fit jeans, custom-made suits with narrow ties, military parkas. Transportation was scooters, the most fashionable of which were Italian-made Lambretta and Vespa models fitted with as many gaudy accessories as possible, including whip antennas, extra lights and mirrors, and leopard skin seat covers.

Meticulous attention was paid to the smallest of details when it came to the mod lifestyle, all in the name of being cool. The mod way of life consisted of total devotion to looking and being cool, Richard Barnes wrote in his 1982 book Maximum R&B. Spending practically all your money on clothes and all your after work hours in clubs and dance halls. To be part-time was really to miss the point.

The mods favourite music centred around American soul, Tamla and R&B (mod is short for modernists, i.e. fans of the modern jazz music of artists such as Ray Charles, Jimmy Smith and Mose Allison) which was filtering slowly into Britain in the early Sixties. The favourites included Ben E. King, the Impressions, the Shirelles, and Muddy Waters. This music was far from mainstream, and it was decidedly difficult to obtain copies of the in recordings, making it all the more appealing to the mod crowd.

Londons West End, specifically Soho, became a hotbed of mod activity with clubs such as the Flamingo and the Scene setting many trends and featuring the most prominent and important proponents of mod, known as faces. The atmosphere in these early R&B clubs was electric as these immaculately dressed, adolescents checked each other out. Amphetamine use was rampant pills such as Purple Hearts and French blues maintained the requisite energy level. Many important groups played in Londons R&B clubs at this time, including the Rolling Stones, the Animals, the Yardbirds, and a young Shepherds Bush-based outfit called The Who, formerly The Detours, who by mid-1964, had already attracted strong mod attention and thanks to the influence of their publicist Peter Meaden, had just changed their name to The High Numbers.

On June 30 that year, they began a 12-week residency in a small R&B club frequented by mods in Wealdstone, north west London. The Railway Hotel was a very scruffy looking place according to Kit Lambert, who would become their co-manager, and The High Numbers were playing there in this room with just one red bulb glowing and an extraordinary audience that they had collected. Ambience management at the Railway fell to Richard Barnes, an Ealing Art School student who ran the clubs entertainment bookings. Barnes had seen to it that the atmosphere was just right. We turned off all the lights except two in which we had put pink bulbs, he wrote. The radiators were deliberately turned up and all the windows blacked out a capacity was fixed at 180 but there had been occasions when we had issued tickets for as many as 1,000, though a couple of hundred of those would have to content themselves with checking out the scooters in the courtyard.

The group, Roger Daltrey, 20, vocals, Pete Townshend, 19, guitar, John Entwistle, 19, bass, and newly acquired drummer Keith Moon, 17, played rocknroll, blues and R&B numbers a fairly standard set for a local live act at the time on a rather delicate stage made from beer crates and table tops. But what set The High Numbers apart from their contemporaries was the presence of Tamla-Motown songs in their repertoire (the Detroit-based label featured black soul artists such as the Miracles, the Marvelettes, Martha & the Vandellas, and Stevie Wonder) and their sheer volume. They were the loudest group Id ever heard, said Lambert. Townshends Rickenbacker guitar, slung high, almost across his chest, responded with crushing volume to every gyration he made as he wind-milled his arm, slashing his hand not across but