Graded on a Curve: The Who, Live at Leeds

Celebrating Roger Daltrey upfront of his eightieth birthday tomorrow. —Ed.

Many have known as The Who’s 1970 Live at Leeds the very best stay album of all time. Me, I’ve all the time scoffed. It made no distinction that I’d by no means really sat down and listened to it. rock critic doesn’t have to really take heed to an LP earlier than passing judgment on it. He merely is aware of, based mostly on intestine intuition and sure arcane and occult clues, whether or not an album is a dud or not. In the case of Live at Leeds, there are three clues to the album being rated far better than deserved.

The first is the LP’s inclusion of “Summertime Blues,” a track that has all the time given me hives and put me off my dinner of Hormel’s Chili on sizzling canine, which is the impoverished rock critic’s model of pan-fried foie gras with spiced citrus purée. The second is that Live at Leeds suffers—if solely in a single notable case—from that early seventies affliction, track bloat. You know what I’m speaking about: stay albums the place the bands stretch their songs to extraordinary lengths, in some circumstances obscene two-sided lengths, forcing the stoned listener to face up, stagger to the stereo in a Tuinal haze, and switch the damned document over to listen to the second facet. Finally, there was the problem of track choice: six tunes, three of them covers, with not one of the covers being specific favorites of mine. And I’ve by no means been a giant fan of one of many originals, “Magic Bus,” both.

Which has all the time left me to surprise, “What’s in it for me?” And I’m not alone; particularly, Live at Leeds didn’t impress these twin pillars of rock criticism, the commonly unintelligible Greil Marcus, who known as the music dated and uneventful and the ever-crotchety Robert Christgau, who singled out “Magic Bus” for particular abuse, calling it “uncool-at-any-length.”

Besides, I’ve all the time been greater than happy with the three Who LPs I take into account indispensible, specifically Meaty Beaty Big and Bouncy, Who’s Next, and Quadrophenia. As for the remainder of the Who’s catalogue—together with Tommy—I had no use for it. But having lastly listened to the Live at Leeds, I’m flabbergasted; it is probably not, as critic Nik Cohn known as it, “the definitive hard-rock holocaust,” but it surely does rock balls, most likely as a result of The Who was the very best stay band on the earth on the time.

Their solely competitors was Led Zeppelin, and whereas no person may give you a riff as monstrously heavy as Jimmy Page, I price the Who as the higher band if for no different motive than the truth that their rhythm part of John Entwistle (who usually performed lead components on the bass) bass and Keith Moon (who was Keith Moon) was as dynamite because the explosives Moon employed a stage hand to position in his drum package for an episode of TV’s The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour. Which may need been a wise concept had the stage hand not used 10 occasions the allotted quantity of explosives. The ensuing detonation not solely hurled Moon from the drum riser, it partially deafened Townshend whereas additionally singing his hair. Talk about your most R&B!

But again to Live at Leeds, which was expressly recorded to be a stay album, after Pete Townshend ordered that the recordings from their latest U.S. tour be burnt. (A tragic loss for Who followers, who should rend their clothes and ululate each time they consider these tapes going up in smoke.) Instead of the destroyed U.S. tapes, the band recorded 33 songs throughout a present at Leeds University on Valentine’s Day, 1970, and the way they managed to pare down that variety of songs to the 6 that made the ultimate minimize is past me.

What I do know is that it doesn’t please me. I want the album contained extra originals—that fifty/50 ratio nonetheless rankles—however man, what they do to these covers! Their tackle Mose Allison’s “Young Man Blues” is a masterpiece for the interaction of bass and drums alone (there has by no means been a greater rhythm part than the late John Entwistle and the deceased Keith Moon). Throw the gargantuan energy chords of Townshend on high, together with some cool chug a lug guitar, and—magic. And Daltrey outdoes himself, shouting the blues (“They stepped BACK/When a younger man walked by”) as Townshend launches into an prolonged feedback-heavy solo that Daltrey cries after which screams over. Townshend’s guitar then drops out briefly to play random chords because the rhythm part carries the track, solely to return at double the ability, earlier than Daltrey takes it out with some bombastic vocals.

As for Eddie Cochran’s “Summertime Blues,” I might be remiss to not give it bonus factors for being roughly 44 occasions heavier than any earlier cowl. I nonetheless don’t prefer it, however I’m impressed by it, that are two various things. Townshend performs feral blasts of his Gibson SG Special, whereas Moon’s all cymbals and mayhem and Daltrey’s golden vocal chords are current and accounted for. Townshend performs a brief and discordant solo earlier than returning to windmilling, and the band then segues into “Shakin’ All Over,” with Townshend enjoying a sinuous lead riff over a pummeling rhythm part. Then Moon goes into full frenzy as Townshend spills suggestions everywhere in the stage earlier than launching right into a recurrent riff that goes insane as Entwistle performs a terrific bass line behind him. This is barely restrained hysteria, and reaches a peak simply earlier than Daltrey—whose vocals are a bit too skilled for this slobbering slab of storage rock crunge—slowly sings the title one final time.

“Substitute” is considered one of my Who faves they usually play it comparatively straight, with Townshend serving up humongous energy chords that stomp everywhere in the stage like King Kong whereas Moon imitates a deadly automotive accident with the cymbals. The result’s pure energy and glory, and it’s one of the crucial bombastic songs—thanks in largest half to Moon’s TNT drumming—I’ve ever heard. Meanwhile Daltrey complains that he was born with a plastic spoon in his mouth, the backing vocals are cool, and the track builds and builds to a spectacular ending. Here I’m complaining about track bloat and I really want this one had been longer.

“My Generation” opens on a very insane word, with Townshend enjoying some V2 riffs and Daltrey stuttering earlier than Entwistle performs some lead strains that’ll blow your thoughts. Then the band delivers some berserk crash and bash earlier than Townshend performs one of many loudest and fiercest solos of all time. The band then segues into “See Me, Feel Me/Listening to You,” a showcase for Daltrey and a deliberate ploy by Townshend, who roughly known as the stay “My Generation” a historical past lesson, saying, “We reprise ‘Tommy’ in it… to combine all of the bits of our historical past collectively in a one nice, enormous deafening din.” He’s utterly proper in regards to the din, and the bits of such tunes as “Underture,” “Naked Eye,” “The Seeker,” and different themes by no means recorded, however the necessary factor to recollect about this track is that it’s not a medley within the conventional sense however Maximum R&B, with the band often stopping to play slower sections solely to interrupt right into a barbaric cacophony even fiercer than the one which got here earlier than it.

Townshend mingles suggestions with energy chords which are as dangerously stay as downed energy strains, whereas the rhythm part produces a rigorously managed chaos, and the impact is what the poet Arthur Rimbaud known as a derangement of all of the senses. Townshend performs a quiet part that turns into what sounds to me like Lynyrd Skynyrd, then the band is available in like a horde of Mongols destroying every part in its path, after which Townshend performs one other quiet part that segues into among the most bashing energy chords ever recorded. Then there’s one other fairly and quiet part, which highlights Moon and Entwistle, earlier than the track rockets into hyperspace, with Townshend serving up some suggestions whereas Moon goes loopy on drums. And on it goes, with Townshend enjoying guitar god whereas Entwistle and Moon ship the products behind him. The track lastly ends in a protracted collection of feedback-drenched crashes, and I believe I’ve lastly discovered an instance of track bloat that truly works.

As for the nearer, “Magic Bus,” it opens with Moonie’s well-known stick work and Townshend’s syncopated guitar riff, at which level Townshend sings in regards to the magic bus and the backing vocals observe him till he screams and repeats stubbornly, “I need it, I need it, I need it.” Then some bartering goes on, Townshend runs his hand down the fret board, and the band is available in like a bus accident. Then the track slows, and it’s simply Daltrey and Townshend, till the band—Daltrey on harmonica—comes again in and kicks the tempo within the ass. Then the track slows earlier than turning right into a powerhouse, with Entwistle enjoying some huge leads and Townshend kicking out the jams till the track ends. Like I say it has by no means been my favourite Who tune, and I personally would have most popular it had they chosen the Leeds variations of “Sparks,” “Heaven and Hell,” and even “A Quick One While He’s Away,” although at 13-plus minutes the final named is one other case of track bloat. Still, “Magic Bus” is healthier than I anticipated, which is one thing I can say about each track on the LP.

Bottom line: I’ve my caveats with Live at Leeds, as talked about to start with of this evaluate. But ultimately The Who’s sheer sonic bludgeoning does certainly make the stay LP nice and a should personal. This isn’t an album; it’s a neutron bomb of laborious rock, as produced by what could be rock’s biggest band. Even “My Generation” works as a result of it’s not a case of noodling for noodling’s sake, as bands just like the Grateful Dead and the Allman Brothers specialised in, however a collection of bombs going off, so that you simply needn’t nod out throughout the normal collection of lifeless instrumental interludes. In different phrases The Who was by no means a jam band, and I haven’t heard a seventies LP so unremittingly barbaric since, properly, ever. Between Townshend’s guitar, Entwistle’s bass, Moon’s drums, and Daltrey’s vocals some synergistic impact happens, inflicting my usually unerring crucial colleges to quick circuit. It’s a lesson in humility, it’s, and whereas I gained’t be taught something from it, I’m comfortable so as to add Live at Leeds to my record of favourite Who albums, “Summertime Blues” and all.

GRADED ON A CURVE:
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