PETE TOWNSEND
Live In Concert 1985-2001: 14CD Boxset
(UMR)
Music unlocks something within us all, rarely does it hook into one mass subconsciousness and open up a universal meaning. So whilst I was absolutely one of countless people across the globe excited for the release of the ‘Live in Concert 1985 - 2001’ boxed set from Pete Townshend, that anticipation came from a place difficult to articulate and more personal than I would ordinarily share beyond my very dearest circle.
I didn’t lose my Dad in 1997, he just ran away to start a new life, which after what was then, a lifetime of complex and conflicting emotions signalled a chance to exhale, a freedom I’d never known up to that point - alongside a labyrinthine sense of grief as suffocating as it was overwhelming. I turned to the same place of sanctuary that had soothed his troubled mind through the years, finding comfort and an abstract connection to him, to the foundations of myself: his record collection.
My whole life to that point had, had a fairly limited soundtrack, to say my Dad was a fan of The Who and Pete Townshend doesn’t seem description enough, there was an almost visceral need for their music, it anchored him, it explained him and gave voice to all that existed beneath the surface, Let's See Action signposted a road to recovery “...Find it, I’ve got to hear it all again, My heart has heard the sound of harmony, Blind to it, as my tears fall again, It’s only by the music I’ll be free…”
For 15 years, I carried the half truths I had been told, viewed the past through lenses of both incredible trauma and intense love, I built a life where I was safe from the former and starved of an outlet for the latter. I had children, who whilst they would never know their Grandfather, would be raised with regular visits to the sonic landscape that had come to represent him. I could (and still can) talk at length about both back catalogues, I still find myself inexplicably annoyed when people get lyrics wrong, and it cuts into the very core of myself if someone tells me this deeply held fascination is just an expression of my Autism - that reduction of something so personally significant to a symptom highlighting a lack of understanding of both myself and the condition.
Live in Concert: 1985 - 2001 arrived too late to play part in any healing process, or to strengthen any familial ties that might, as I embrace my own middle age have led to a reconciliation and finding of peace between my Dad and I, some 13 years have passed since the cold October morning when the phone rang. On what would, we think (it’s unclear, the two records of his birth show different dates) would have been his 59th Birthday, my Dad passed away.
I know, if things had been different, this would have been added to his collection, listened to and appreciated. Offering chances to relive the live music experiences of his relative youth, to listen to the subtle differences in the performances over time, to hear the Life House Chronicles performed orchestrally, elevating that already familiar material to a new height of listening experience. The price point of course, meaning he would wait until now, months after it’s release to receive it as a gift, marking another passage around the sun for him and the planet.
For me, listening has been a chance to remember him, to take some comfort in those memories of years long gone by. To experience through Pete Townshend something I never did with my Dad, the sound of aging. The subtle changes to vocal quality and tone, the slowing of the music's pace. Granted this is mainly a release for collectors, in terms of material at this point - there’s nothing new, little remains unreleased in terms of demo’s and historical lost b-sides. That doesn’t however mean one shouldn’t dip a toe in occasionally via streaming platforms, to remember what was, and “..hear that sound again, for time is passing…” Dip in and out at your leisure, this archive of performances is best experienced occasionally, certainly the Orchestral arrangements are worthy of repeat listens, and allow a degree of separation between the Art, and the Artist - which I fully understand in this instance is important for some.
It’s a divisive topic - and which side you take from the evidence available to you, is your choice. The consistency of his story, no charges being brought against him (yes there was a caution, and 5 years on the sex offenders register - completely in line with his admission of guilt for paying to access *that* site) he’s thus far made it through #metoo unscathed. Should, after his death - victims come forward, I will accept my judgement call was wrong. Right now - I’m prepared to believe that a wealthy, arrogant man with a White Knight complex really was THAT stupid.
For now, though, I’ll hold onto that sense of familiarity and comfort offered by his music, and appreciate the echoes of it I hear in the music of those influenced by that lengthy back catalogue, passed down across generations like anecdotes and memories after a family dinner. You Better You Bet (Live At Shepherd's Bush Empire, London, UK / 9th November 1998)
*I’ve chosen this song, because it’s one of my earliest recollections of The Who, and my Dads fanatical love of them - I’d have been 2.5 years old when this came out, the album cover fascinated me, and I cannot hear this without thinking of being sat in my childhood living room, watching particles of dust as they moved through a shaft of sunlight passing through a gap in the curtains. The air would have been heavy with the kind of smoke a toddler really shouldn’t have been exposed to, in the corner of my vision my then 27 year old dad was dancing and singing along like his very life depended on it, a seething mass of awkward slender limbs.
