Okay, just kidding. I know the name of the song is Baba O’Riley. But seriously, there are thousands of people out there who think that this song is called Teenage Wasteland and, way back when I first wrote the first draft of my review of Summer of Sam, I was so exhausted that I actually referred to it as being Teenage Wasteland but, fortunately, Jeff pointed out my mistake before I hit publish. Pete Townshend, who wrote the song, later said that the reference to a “teenage wasteland” was inspired by the audience Woodstock and it was not meant to be complimentary.
That’s a question that’s asked frequently in the 1975 film, Tommy. An adaptation of the famous rock opera by the Who (though Pete Townshend apparently felt that the film’s vision was more director Ken Russell’s than anything that he had meant to say), Tommy tells the story of a “deaf, dumb, and blind kid” who grows up to play a mean pinball and then become a cult leader. Why pinball? Who knows? Townshend’s the one who wrote Pinball Wizard but Ken Russell is the one who decided to have Elton John sing it while wearing giant platform shoes.
Tommy opens, like so many British films of the 70s, with the blitz. With London in ruins, Captain Walker (the almost beatifically handsome Robert Powell) leaves his wife behind as he fights for his country. When Walker is believed to be dead, Nora (Ann-Margaret) takes Tommy to a holiday camp run by Frank (Oliver Reed). Oliver Reed might not be the first person you would expect to see in a musical and it is true that he wasn’t much of a singer. However, it’s also true that he was Oliver Reed and, as such, he was impossible to look away from. Even his tuneless warbling is somehow charmingly dangerous. Nora falls for Frank but — uh oh! — Captain Walker’s not dead. When the scarred captain surprises Frank in bed with Nora, Frank hits him over the head and kills him. Young Tommy witnesses the crime and is told that he didn’t see anything and he didn’t hear anything and that he’s not going to say anything.
And so, as played by Roger Daltrey, Tommy grows up to be “deaf, dumb, and blind.” Various cures — from drugs to religion to therapy — are pursued to no avail. As the Acid Queen, Tina Turner sings and dances as if she’s stealing Tommy’s soul. As the Therapist, Jack Nicholson is all smarmy charm as he gently croons to Ann-Margaret. Eric Clapton performs in front of a statue of Marilyn Monroe. Ann-Margaret dances in a pool of beans and chocolate and rides a phallic shaped pillow. As for Tommy, he eventually becomes the Pinball Wizard and also a new age messiah. But it turns out that his new followers are just as destructive as the people who exploited him when he was younger. It’s very much a Ken Russell film, full of imagery that is shocking and occasionally campy but always memorable.
I love Tommy. It’s just so over-the-top and absurd that there’s no way you can ignore it. Ann-Margaret sings and dances as if the fate of the world depends upon it while Oliver Reed drinks and glowers with the type of dangerous charisma that makes it clear why he was apparently seriously considered as Sean Connery’s replacement in the roles of James Bond. As every scene is surreal and every line of dialogue is sung, it’s probably easy to read too much into the film. It could very well be Ken Russell’s commentary on the New Age movement and the dangers of false messiahs. It could also just be that Ken Russell enjoyed confusing people and 1975 was a year when directors could still get away with doing that. With each subsequent viewing of Tommy, I become more convinced that some of the film’s most enigmatic moments are just Russell having a bit of fun. The scenes of Tommy running underwater are so crudely put together that you can’t help but feel that Russell was having a laugh at the expense of people looking for some sort of deeper meaning in Tommy’s journey. In the end, Tommy is a true masterpiece of pop art, an explosion of style and mystery.
Tommy may seem like a strange film for me to review in October. It’s not a horror film, though it does contain elements of the genre, from the scarred face of the returned to Captain Walker to the Acid Queen sequence to a memorable side story that features a singer who looks like a junior Frankenstein. To me, though, Tommy is a great Halloween film. Halloween is about costumes and Tommy is ultimately about the costumes that people wear and the personas that they assume as they go through their lives. Oliver Reed goes from wearing the polo shirt of a holiday camp owner to the monocle of a tycoon to the drab jumpsuits of a communist cult leader. Ann-Margaret’s wardrobe is literally a character of its own. Everyone in the film is looking for meaning and identity and the ultimate message (if there is one) appears to be that the search never ends.
Today is Pete Townshend’s 80th birthday and today’s scene that I love features Pete Townshend (as a member of The Who) performing at Woodstock in 1969.
Roger Daltrey later said that this was the worst gig that they ever played and The Who did end up going on stage early in the morning, with the sun rising as they performed See Me, Feel Me. The majority of The Who’s performance was not included in the initial release of the Woodstockdocumentary but the noticeably grainy footage would later be included in various rereleases.
Unfortunately, no cameras recorded the moment when Pete Townshend became the hero that 1969 needed by kicking a ranting Abbie Hoffman off of the stage. But, audio of the incident survived.
Today’s scene that I love comes from 1975’s Tommy. Based on The Who’s rock opera and directed by Ken Russell, Tommy featured several actors who weren’t necessarily known as singers. Oliver Reed is the most obvious example.
And then there’s Jack Nicholson! Jack’s role is pretty small. He’s the therapist who examines Tommy and who eye flirts with Ann-Margaret. And, of course, he gets his check.
Today is Pete Townshend’s 79th birthday and today’s scene that I love features Pete Townshend (as a member of The Who) performing at Woodstock in 1969.
Roger Daltrey later said that this was the worst gig that they ever played and The Who did end up going on stage early in the morning, with the sun rising as they performed See Me, Feel Me. The majority of The Who’s performance was not included in the initial release of the Woodstockdocumentary but the noticeably grainy footage would later be included in various rereleases.
Unfortunately, no cameras recorded the moment when Pete Townshend became the hero that 1969 needed by kicking a ranting Abbie Hoffman off of the stage. But, audio of the incident survived.
Today is the 80th birthday of Who vocalist Roger Daltrey so it seems only appropriate to pick one of The Who’s most recognized songs for today’s song of the day. Enjoy Teenage Wasteland!
Okay, just kidding. I know the name of the song is Baba O’Riley. But seriously, there are thousands of people out there who think that this song is called Teenage Wasteland and, when I first wrote the first draft of my review of Summer of Sam, I may have actually been so exhausted that I actually referred to it as being Teenage Wasteland but, fortunately, if that did indeed happen, Jeff pointed out my mistake before I hit that publish button. Pete Townshend, who wrote the song, later said that the reference to a “teenage wasteland” was inspired by the audience Woodstock and it was not meant to be complimentary.
This performance, featuring Daltrey’s amazing vocals, is taken from the 1979 concert film, The Kids Are Alright.
I saw this on an old episode of Night Flight on Friday night and, I don’t know. It just felt appropriate for today’s music video of the day. In some ways, this video feels even stranger and more ominous than the one that Ken Russell came up with when he directed the film adaptation of Tommy.
Personally, my hope is that the next CSI show, should there ever be another one, will use Pinball Wizard as their theme song. Just imagine Nathan Fillion saying something quippy, putting on his sunglasses and …. “SURE PLAYS A MEAN PINBALL!” Opening credits! It’ll be a hit.
One final note. When The Who played Tommy at Woodstock, they were interrupted by Abbie Hoffman, who apparently wanted to give an impromptu speech. The band did the right thing and Pete Townsend literally kicked Hoffman off the stage. And, in that way, The Who saved not only Woodstock but also the 60s.
On August 1st, 1981, MTV premiered. Over the course of 24 hours, 166 unique music videos were played on MTV. Yes, there was a time when the M actually did stand for music.
The 76th video to premiere on MTV’s first day was the video for Sister Disco by The Who. Sister Disco was Pete Townshend’s way of announcing that, even though he liked a lot of disco music, The Who would never become a disco band. Even though they had a new drummer in Kenney Jones, The Who was going to keep playing the same type of music that made them famous.
This performance clip was filmed at The Concert For The People of Kampuchea, which was held in London in December of 1979. Other videos that were filmed at that same concert include Lucille by Rockestra and Little Sister, performed by Rockpile and Robert Plant.
The video for The Who’s You Better You Bet was filmed at Shepperton Studios in March of 1981 and it provided a look at the new Who as this was the first video to feature Kenney Jones on drums. Jones, of course, replaced Keith Moon after the latter’s tragic death.
Don’t Let Go The Coat is thought to be a tribute to Pete Townshend’s spiritual guru, Mehr Baba, who often told his followers to “hang fast to the hem of my robe.” Just as Mehr Baba told his followers to not lose sight of his teachings, the song’s lyrics seem to reflect Townshend’s struggle to remain true to his beliefs even when he’s feeling depressed and struggling with his demons.
The video is a performance clip, directed by John Crome. Crome also directed the video for The Who’s You Better You Bet. The video features Kenney Jones on drums. Jones joined the band after Keith Moon’s tragic death. Roger Daltrey has often said that The Who became a different band after the death of Moon and that none of the drummers that they brought in could duplicate Moon’s frenetic approach. As was often the case when it came to anything Daltrey said, Pete Townshend disagreed. Jones played with The Who until the band’s first break-up in 1983.
Through the Shattered Lens 