"Quadrophenia" is the first instrumental track on the album, and we could say it comes a little early and perhaps slows down the album's flow. Perhaps they wanted to avoid the criticism that once labeled Tommy's Underture as filler, considering a 10-minute instrumental closing out a side a clear example of blatant padding. Be that as it may, Quadrophenia is a gem (and I always emphasize how hesitant I am about instrumental tracks). It has a suite structure and can be considered a complete rock opera within another rock opera. Its instrumentation is complex and intricate, but basically, we can say that synthesizers dominate the scene. The most interesting aspect is undoubtedly how, throughout its six-plus minutes, the leitmotifs representing Jimmy's different personalities unfold.

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Right from the start, we're greeted with Keith's Theme, the opening chord progression of Bell Boy, playing over an acoustic strum that, laugh if you want, reminds me of the beginning of Pinball Wizard. Then, at 0:47, we hear Townshend's solo transform into the melody of It Is Me?, which represents the tenderness of John's Theme. Shortly after, we encounter that synthesizer mimicking the sharp zigzag of a violin section that also appears during the bipolar (or quadripolar?) Dr. Jimmy. At 1:37, the guitar phrasing is replaced by the bombastic horn overture of Helpess Dancer, with the whole band adding tension around it, and then, at 2:05, we're met with the staccato piano chords (which here are simplified to a single note) completing Roger's Theme. Finally, to hear Pete's Theme, we have to wait until 4:02, when the sonic fog clears and the three-note piano ostinato emerges, announcing the entrance of Love Reign O'er Me's hypnotic synthesizer. This is one of the songs the band had to stop playing right at the start of the promotional tour because Moon was unable to sync up with the pre-recorded tracks, and they didn't play it live again until '96.

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The order of the songs on Quadrophenia is often a topic of debate because, although The Who tell a story, it doesn't seem to follow a linear path. The general consensus is that "Cut My Hair" should be the first track on the album, as it represents the moment when Jimmy decides to join the Mods. It begins with a clean guitar solo by Townshend over a bed of cymbals and synthesizers. The riff lasts only a few seconds but returns throughout the song to fill the silences in the vocal track. Pete also takes on lead vocals. His voice doesn't have Roger's powerful character, which, along with the accompanying piano, gives the song a gentle, almost pop feel. A simple drum roll by Moon bridges the abrupt entrance of a catchy, two-part chorus, with Daltrey complementing Pete and Keith running all over his drum kit, laying down a frenetic, almost martial rhythm.

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Zoot suit, white jacket with side vents five inches long. I'm out on the street again and I'm leaping along.

I'm dressed right for a beach fight,

But I just can't explain why that uncertain feeling is still here in my brain.

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It sounds deliciously sixties, reminiscent of The Who during the Sell Out era. In fact, like an Easter egg, this chorus hides the titles of several songs from the pre-Tommy period: Out In The Street, I Can't Explain, and Zoot Suit (the band's first single during that period when they changed their name to The High Numbers). At 2:30, the verse builds in intensity and accelerates to match the chorus. In this part, Moon sounds a bit strained, but the melody flows beautifully. At 3:06, as the band wraps up, a police report begins to play on the radio or television, describing a series of clashes between mods and rockers in Brighton in which Jimmy himself was allegedly involved. The song ends, but the radio continues playing while a kettle begins to whistle.

Jimmy seeks refuge in the mods. He has to cut his hair, dress well, and participate in the usual fights to earn the respect of a bunch of people like him, many of whom he doesn't really know. It's that or be an outcast. He tries hard to fit in, but that inner frustration remains. It's not that he doesn't get along with his parents, but they found drugs hidden in his possession, and he knows something has broken between them. They might kick him out. The song talks about how kids take refuge in groups and gangs because it's the only way they find to fit in, giving up their own identity to conform to others.

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In the peculiar hard rocker "The Punk and the Godfather" (released as "The Punk Meets the Godfather" on early American editions), Townshend once again provides backing vocals for Roger and complements Moon on the rhythm section with a riff vaguely reminiscent of "Acid Queen," while Entwistle reappears with another frenetic bass line that serves as a superb second vocal track, responding to everyone. I get the feeling that Daltrey overacts at times, as if he were singing in a Broadway musical, although I suppose that's the effect they were going for. The playful chorus plays with forced key changes and at times reminds me of Bowie's vaudeville-tinged early albums. Well, perhaps a bit more testosterone-fueled.

 

I'm the guy in the sky. Flying high. Flashing eyes. No surprise I told lies

I'm the punk in the gutter!! I'm the new president But I grew and I bent

Don't you know? don't it show? I'm the punk with the stutte!!

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The chorus closes with Roger's strange, distorted falsetto stuttering a descending "My my my my my ggg-ggg-ggg-ge-ne-ra-tion." At 2:50, the melody becomes especially delightful in Pete's voice. Daltrey joins in a couple of verses later, and the "audience" begins to applaud. Then, after a few guitar riffs, the song resumes its structure.

As for his story, Jimmy attends a concert (it's understood to be The Who). Those musicians had been his untouchable idols and represented the rebellious spirit he aspired to. But their music has evolved, and they've become wealthy by selling their image. In a way, Jimmy feels betrayed. When he approaches them backstage, that wall between artist and audience becomes evident, the same wall that Roger Waters would talk about a few years later (it's impossible to write a review of Quadrophenia or Tommy without Waters' name appearing somewhere). That music, that attitude, that stuttering in "My Generation"—all of it was nothing more than a pose and a business.

For Pete, people idealize their idols and want to be like them, but rock and music in general are too volatile and commercialized trends to be a true benchmark. In short, another disappointment for Jimmy, who has fewer and fewer role models left in his life. A classic that serves as the closing track for side A of the first vinyl record.

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Pete once again takes center stage in the introspective "I'm One", which begins with his acoustic guitar arpeggiating over a melancholic string arrangement, while he sings about personal frustrations and feelings of being a loser. The chorus is incredibly simple and a pure act of self-affirmation:

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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.

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At 0:53 the electric guitar, bass and drums join in and the song definitely acquires a clear country tone that was barely noticeable in the acoustic part.

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Jimmy is depressed. On the verge of collapse. At some point he can't remember, he bought clothes that don't fit him well. He has an expensive guitar even though he can't play it, and his voice is too shrill. He feels like a complete loser and still doesn't know who he is. I like that play on words with "I'm one." Pete is referring to a boy with multiple selves who wants to be just one, and at the same time, he's talking about people who want to be special. Because for Pete, we all want to be unique (even though we then follow trends and imitate what we like in others). That obsession with standing out from the crowd is a wellspring of frustration.

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With the originality of "The Dirty Jobs", we return once again to the theatricality of Broadway musicals. The song opens with the French horn that identifies "Roger's Theme." The entire track is built upon Entwistle's deep bass line and Chris Stainton's obsessive staccato piano chords, which are also part of "Roger's Theme." The melody is catchy from beginning to end, and the chorus is one of the best on the album. Towards the end, a cheering crowd and the grunt of a pig serve as a bizarre finale, superimposed over a band playing a typical American march known as "The Thunderer."

Jimmy has landed a job as a garbage collector, but he realizes it's not for him. He's an idealistic rebel and harshly criticizes the conformists who let themselves be walked all over in their dead-end jobs. He's still young and inexperienced, but he can't understand how they could have forgotten their dreams and ideals.

From what I read, this song is often associated with Jimmy's political and union consciousness, supposedly as if he were standing up for his rights. I don't think this is accurate: the Mods never displayed any kind of ideology and were generally just kids who needed to work any job they could find to buy their expensive motorcycles and stylish clothes (and their drugs). I see it more as an act of arrogance and self-indulgence, feeling superior to people working in alienating and unpleasant jobs that he didn't want to do.

 

"Helpless Dancer" is even more pompous and operatic, and even more underrated. In fact, it's possibly the most underrated track on all of Quadrophenia. On first listen, it's really hard to digest. It's like a WTF?! But when you understand what's going on, it amazes and captivates you.

A French horn (played by Daltrey in the studio but later by John for live performances) makes a bombastic entrance with a piano, adding a great deal of drama (isn't everything in adolescence excessively profound?). An acoustic guitar joins the piano, strumming obsessively and practically without melody. Then the instrumentation stops, and the piano begins to unleash dry, staccato chords. The song takes on a schizophrenic quality when Roger starts to sing, with each phrase alternating between the speakers. I imagine that with quadraphonic sound it would be utter madness.

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When a man is running from his boss / who holds a gun that fires "cost" And people die from being cold / or left alone because they're old

And bombs are dropped on fighting cats / and children's dreams are run with rats If you complain you disappear / just like the lesbians and queers

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At 1:03 the rest of the band enters to increase the intensity of Daltrey's complaints, who at 1:30 leaves some verses unfinished:

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And when a man is trying to change / But only causes further pain You realize that all along / Something in us is going wrong.. .

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And the band launches into the coda, which is simply a repetition of the initial intro with piano, French horn, and guitar. And when the music fades, Roger completes the verse with one of his roars:

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… You stop dancing!!

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The song doesn't have a chorus; it's just Daltrey ranting about everything. It's very short, barely two and a half minutes long. And subtract 30 seconds for the intro, another 30 for the coda, and 30 more for an ending with a lot of ambient sound, where you can hear the beginning of "The Kids Are All Right" and a snippet of "Is It In My Head?" which will play next. As for the lyrics, "Helpless Dancer" is about Jimmy's frustration with society and how that frustration gradually transforms into anger.

This is Roger's Theme. The fact that this persona bears Roger's name isn't meant as a slight, nor is it Pete implying that Daltrey is a jerk. If that were the case, I don't think Quadrophenia would have ever been published, would it? Rather, Pete is describing a part of his own personality that views the world with arrogance and intransigence, making him, at times, as aggressive as Daltrey.

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As mentioned earlier, the album continues with a much more conventional power ballad called "Is It In My Head?", in which bass and piano lay a solid foundation over a backdrop of synthesizers, while the guitar traces sharp phrases throughout the song in a somewhat scattered fashion. Glyn Johns' unmistakable hand is very noticeable in the production. The song isn't bad, but here we find Roger singing with little intensity, as if he had to record this first thing on a Monday morning, and this lack of enthusiasm permeates the song. It becomes more evident in the key changes, but it's not something that ruins everything. It might go unnoticed were it not for the fact that we can compare it to the live versions and the Townshend demo, which are much more emotive and convincing, and which are a significant improvement over the studio version. Roger always expressed dissatisfaction with the album's production regarding his vocal tracks. Obviously, in Lambert's absence, the blame for this must fall on Pete... The highlight of Is It In My Head? is found in some two-part choruses (don't they sound a bit like Yes?) and in which Entwistle sings alongside Roger.

Then, at 2:30, there's a short bridge where the song picks up speed and rocks aggressively, momentarily losing all its languor. The guitar closes the song with a languid solo that drifts along with the current.

Sometimes Jimmy is an irritating slacker. Sometimes he's a complete grouch. Sometimes he's overly sentimental, and other times he's almost paranoid and suspicious. He realizes there's something erratic and inconsistent about his gloomy view of things. So he wonders if he's really that miserable or just bitter.

 

The first disc concludes with "I've Had Enough", which kicks off with a powerful, sweeping piano intro that harks back to the most visceral The Who. By this point, we were already missing them. It's especially refreshing to see the aggressive, unrestrained Moon back, throwing in drum fills that barely fit. The song seems tailor-made to showcase his frenetic style, and Keith knows how to exploit it. Absolutely. It's a real shame he only played it live once, at the tour's opening show. Then Roger enters with that superb, soaring presence.

 

YOU....!

...were under the impression that when you were walking forwards You'd end up further onward but things ain't quite that simple

 

It's one of my favorite moments on the album. And I know it's just me, but Daltrey's opening lines and Townshend's phrasing at the end of the verses around the one-minute mark remind me of "Don't Get Fooled Again." At 1:23, the melody shifts abruptly, introducing a slight variation of the chorus from "Love, Reign O'er Me," where Roger sings directly over the synthesizer riff. And I'll take this opportunity to say: despite the minor dip in "Is It In My Head," Daltrey is phenomenal. This is Pete's album, yes. But even considering that, Quadrophenia largely rests on Daltrey's incredible power and expressiveness. Who would have thought it five years ago! The brief excerpt from "Love, Reign O'er Me" leads into another section at 2:10 where the dominant instrument is... the banjo! …well, it shouldn't really surprise us, given that the banjo had already made an appearance in the grotesque "Tommy's Holiday Camp" from Tommy and will reappear in the more Americanized "Squeeze Box" from By The Numbers. Where was I? Ah, yes! The banjo bit! Indeed: over a pure bluegrass beat, poor Jimmy gives up on everything. He's found the girl he likes in the arms of his best friend and realizes the mods have been deceiving him. He's been losing all his bearings in life, one after another, and says he's had enough. Fed up with his life, with society and its conventions, fed up with drugs, and fed up with the mods. The whole song is a dialogue between Jimmy's four personalities, and in the end, the most rational and critical side prevails: perhaps salvation lies in finding a conventional job and getting his life in order. Symbolically, he ends up crashing his brand-new scooter. I've Had Enough is a song about the transition between adolescence and adulthood, the change from a totally carefree life to one full of obligations and conventions.

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A train station. A bustling atmosphere, announcements over the loudspeakers, and the click of a train door closing. This is how the second vinyl record begins. It's "5:15", the most well-known song on the entire album, a much more conventional rock track, but a true classic. It was, after all, the single that spearheaded Quadrophenia. It has a somewhat deceptive beginning because at first it seems like an emotional ballad with a slow, melancholic piano, and Pete singing that serene "Why should I care? Why should I care?" which is actually a brilliant wormhole leading to "Cut My Hair," the moment when Jimmy decided to join the Mods. But then the guitar traces a bridge over a descending scale, and after a moment to catch his breath, the song explodes, and we have Stainton on piano giving it his all alongside Keith Moon, who is once again a true beast, and the French horn that returns to add character, mirroring Townshend's riff. Roger takes over on vocals, and Pete stays behind to provide backing vocals in a very Motown style, along with John (Glyn Johns, is that you?). While musically, within the creative context of Quadrophenia, the song might seem somewhat conventional (or even commercial, if you prefer), its lyrics are certainly not:

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Girls of fifteen (sexually knowing)

The ushers are sniffing (eau-de-coloning) The seats are seductive (celibate sitting) Pretty girls digging (prettier women)

 

Pete says he wrote this verse about a Beatles show in Blackburn after which the seats in the hall stank as if each of those fifteen-year-old girls had peed themselves from so much excitement.

Surprisingly, the chorus's entrance is a textbook anticlimax. The song slows down and lingers on those delightful old-school backing vocals between Pete and John, contrasting sharply with Daltrey's usual muffled roar.

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(Inside, outside) leave me alone (Inside outside) nowhere is home (Inside outside) where have I been?

Out of my brain on the five fifteen!!

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In the final part, you can't miss Moon's skills to simulate the train's movement on the rails.

The depressed Jimmy no longer knows what to hold on to. He feels that the only time things made any sense was during his mod phase, so he takes some hallucinogens and boards the 5:15 train to Brighton, the scene of the famous mod-rocker clashes of the mid-60s. Clearly, in this song, Pete is talking about a different kind of trip.

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"Sea and Sand" is an absolute dichotomy. Throughout its five minutes, melodies of completely opposite character alternate. The calmer ones are built on delicate arpeggios, while the others, much more forceful, strike with their sharp power chords and Keith crushing his drums. The sound of the sea accompanies the entire song, and there are even moments when the instrumentation stops completely, leaving us suspended among the waves and seagulls, including a false ending at 3:27. And it works! Pay attention to the long final coda: if you listen closely, it's a sped-up, more 70s-sounding version of "I'm the Face," the B-side of Zoot Suit's early High Numbers album.

The song's main theme is the excessive importance placed on appearance and physical attributes. When Jimmy arrives in Brighton, he finds that almost nothing remains of what he remembers. The beach is now a quiet place, very different from the bustling scene of mods and rockers fighting that he once knew. Since his parents have finally kicked him out and he has nowhere else to go, Jimmy decides to stay in Brighton. He tries to impress a girl by presenting himself as the charismatic leader of the mods he always wanted to be. For a moment, he forgets his intention to leave behind that superficial life, and symbolically, the verse from "I've Had Enough" just before his resignation is repeated:

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My jacket's gonna be cut slim and checked Maybe a touch of seersucker with an open neck I ride a GS scooter with my hair cut neat

I wear my wartime coat in the wind and sleet.

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He chooses the image he wants to project carefully, but he lacks confidence and is riddled with insecurities, and perhaps being a mod is a bit outdated. He also realizes that many of the prettiest girls he approaches are, deep down, a little dim-witted.

If Jimmy only had memories left to cling to, now he doesn't even have that.

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"Drowned" is the oldest song on the album. Pete composed it back in 1970 as another tribute to his idol, Meher Baba. The first part of the song is a straightforward rocker where everything revolves around a piano riff taken from Joe Cocker's version of Hitchcock Railway (with whom Stainton had collaborated as a member of the Grease Band on all their albums up to that point). In fact, at 0:52 the other instruments fall silent, and for a few seconds the song hangs suspended on that riff. But the best part of the song comes when Moon and Entwistle take over and impose a crushing groove, and Drowned suddenly becomes a 5:15 reprise that is absolutely insane. It's easy to see why it's one of the Who's own favorite songs and why it's the track from this album they've performed live most often. Pete has even incorporated a moving acoustic version of it as a recurring piece in his solo shows. At the end of the song, the sounds of the sea and footsteps on the sand are heard again, along with Townshend humming a fragment of "Sea and Sand." Contradicting the powerful instrumentation, "Drowned" speaks of the despair of a Jimmy who flirts with nihilism and fantasizes about drowning in the sea. It's another reference to Meher Baba's "I am the ocean of love." Pete says he's willing to drown in that ocean.

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Perhaps "Bell Boy" has one of the most memorable melodies on the album, but if it became an instant fan favorite, it was primarily due to Keith Moon's incredibly fun performance. It kicks off with Keith pounding the drums over a sea of ​​brass instruments composed by Entwistle. An apotheosis of a Valhalla entrance that Wagner himself would have endorsed had he dedicated himself to rock in the '70s. Roger then sings the main verses, which turn out to be the catchiest and most danceable moment on the album:

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The beach is a place where a man can feel he's the only soul in the world that's real...

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While strolling through Brighton, Jimmy encounters the charismatic Ace Face, a character who would serve as Sting's film debut in '79 and who, in the '96 Quadrophenia tour—the triumphant return of the band to the stage—would be embodied by Billy Idol. Ace Face was one of the Mod leaders whom Jimmy admired.

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Ain't you the guy who used to set the paces riding up in front of a hundred faces?

I don't suppose you would remember me but I used to follow you back in sixty-three

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And here comes Moon's voice, who curiously doesn't embody Jimmy but Ace Face, who, with an exaggerated and grotesque Corney accent, confesses that he has changed and now works as a bellboy in one of the hotels that his mod gang had ransacked a couple of years ago:

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I've got a good job, and I'm newly born

You should see me dressed up in my uniform I work in hotel, all gilt and flash

Remember the place where the doors were smashed?

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Meanwhile, as Moon describes the details of his job, John, Roger, and Pete point at the once rebellious, now servile Ace Face with some fantastic "Bell boy!!" chants that reflect Jimmy's profound disappointment upon discovering that everything he believed in was a lie. A clumsy pose.

At the end of the chorus, Moon regains his usual voice as the former mod leader gets nostalgic reminiscing about the old days:

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Some nights I still sleep on the beach remember when stars were in reach I wander in early to work spend my day licking boots for my perks

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Townshend really insisted that Keith sing and not act because he didn't want Ace Face to become a comic relief character. But in the end, it didn't matter how much the big-nosed guy insisted: Keith is Keith. And we love him.

For Jimmy, this is the final blow. Ace Face admits his job is crap, but in Jimmy's eyes, he sees that Ace Face is even more miserable than he is.

It's called Keith's Theme and it's meant to reflect Jimmy's more frivolous side.

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​​In "Doctor Jimmy", once again amidst the sounds of waves and storms, we find poor Jimmy on the verge of collapse, no longer able to distinguish whether his thoughts are truly his own. At an excessive eight and a half minutes, it's the longest track on Quadrophenia. The instrumentation is complex and quite overloaded, with a frenetic, staccato synthesizer raising our adrenaline, perfectly complemented by Entwistle's bass. The melodies are once again excellent, and Roger demonstrates his peak form, delivering another of his great performances in which he convincingly alternates between Jimmy's different personalities. I especially like Jimmy's internal dialogue, which we could consider a chorus:

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What is it? I'll take it Who is she? I'll rape it

Got a bet there? I'll meet it Getting high? You can't beat it

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Then, with the tension mounting and on the verge of breaking, comes "Is It Me?", the leitmotif known as John's Theme, which represents Jimmy's charming and romantic side and by this point is no longer even a song but merely a small fragment of his personality. Here, Roger is tender and fragile, as if trying to repeat the masterstroke of the incomparable "See Me, Feel Me" from Tommy.

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Is it me?

For a moment the stars are falling, the heat is rising, the past is calling.

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But in the end, bitterness prevails.

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Dr. Jimmy describes the moment when Jimmy seeks refuge in alcoholism, hitting rock bottom. The song refers to Dr. Jimmy and Mr. Jim because gin (Dr. Jimmy & Mr. Gin?) provides him with a complete escape from reality and brings out the hidden Mr. Hyde that not even drugs can unleash.

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I'll be honest: I intended to dye "The Rock" blue, and the reason I didn't in the end is because it's not only not bad, but if Quadrophenia weren't on the first disc of the album, I'd say it's brilliant. Besides, it would be rather odd to say that this album has no filler, no bad songs, that it's better than Tommy and blah blah blah, and then have a song dyed blue in front of you every single time, wouldn't it?

So where's the problem? Well, basically, Quadrophenia and The Rock are the same song! Of course, there are minor alterations in the structure (with some parts lengthened and others shortened) and in the instrumentation (keyboards playing what Entwistle's bass played in Quadrophenia, the French horn playing the chord progression from Keith's Theme, the synthesizer from Love Reign O'er Me transposed to the electric guitar... that sort of thing, you know). Also, here the leitmotifs are in a minor key to give it a more desolate tone. And perhaps the biggest difference between the two is that while in Quadrophenia the leitmotifs follow one another, in The Rock they are combined. But the melodies are practically the same. So, since Quadrophenia exists (and chronologically comes first), I find The Rock to be, at the very least, dispensable and could be considered filler.

You'll notice that The Rock begins with the sound of a boat engine. The beautiful picture book that accompanies the vinyl explains that Jimmy steals a boat and sails to a rock that rises from the sea. When he reaches the rock, the boat breaks free, and Jimmy is trapped, reflecting on his life amidst a storm and a raging sea.

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On the verge of drowning, Jimmy experiences an epiphany with the majestic "Love Reign O'er Me", which, narratively speaking, isn't particularly brilliant as the end of Jimmy's story. Nor was "We're Not Gonna Take It" as Tommy's finale... but both are extreme catharses, veritable explosions that, musically, provide a fitting conclusion to the album's grandeur. And, ladies and gentlemen, the name that truly shines here is Roger Daltrey. This is his peak as an artist, and no adjective can do it justice. The song is a genuinely moving ballad that's quite good, but it's Daltrey who elevates it to a new dimension, transforming it into an epic and heart-wrenching saga.

The song opens with the sound of rain and piano chords that seem to lead nowhere. Timpani and a gong enter, mimicking the storm and adding the pomp that every good Quadrophenia song seems to require. Then the piano begins a transitional passage, first with a few strumming patterns and then with full chords. Finally, at 0:56, the revelation arrives: a sequence of three ostinato notes marking the beat of the almost waltz-like 6/8 rhythm that characterizes the song. From there, the synthesizer takes over, repeatedly sketching a riff that mimics ocean waves. Meanwhile, Roger sings with exquisite sweetness:

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Only love can make it rain the way the beach is kissed by the sea Only love can make it rain like the sweat of lovers, laying in the fields

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At 1:29 the synthesizer changes its riff to a descending scale that accentuates the tempo of the song and seems to have no bottom, and over it explodes one of those colossal screams from Daltrey that make your hair stand on end:

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LOOOOOVE!!!!… Reign-O'er-ME-EE!!

LOOOOOVE!!!!… Reign-O'er-ME-EE!!

...rain on me... rain on me...

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It's well known that Roger doesn't share Pete's faith in Meher Baba's teachings, but here he makes them entirely his own and sounds completely convinced of what he's singing. His screams garner all the praise and attention, but he still manages to make the verses stand out, leaving his personal stamp on each one.

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Only love can bring the rain that makes you yearn to the sky Only love can bring the rain that falls like tears from on high LOOOOOVE!!!!!…

 

At 2:57 the electric guitar begins a phrase seeking its share of prominence as a second vocal track, and over it comes an extra verse that introduces a variation in the melody:

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On the dry and dusty road the nights we spend apart alone I need to get back home to cool, cool rain

I can't sleep and I lay and I think the night is hot and black as ink Oh God! I need a drink of cool, cool rain

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It seems incredible that as the song progresses, the bear's roar grows more and more dramatic, dwarfing the previous one until it reaches the final, closing track of the album. In this final apocalypse, Roger and the entire band pour themselves out in that characteristic Who concert finale: Pete smashes another Les Paul against the Marshall amps, Keith blows his drum kit to bits, leaving behind the desolation of Ozymandias. Without a doubt, this was the apotheosis that an album like Quadrophenia deserved.

As for poor Jimmy, Pete left it up to the listener whether he drowned or rebuilt his life. For him, that question was irrelevant: the story he wanted to tell was already finished. Don't look for clues because there aren't any. You simply decide whether you want him to live or die. In the end, Jimmy himself understood that only love could save him.

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The Who always enjoyed the favor of both the public and critics, but they were also a band that exerted a huge influence on the work of other artists. It wasn't that they were innovators (most of the things they're considered pioneers for had already been done before), but everyone was eager to see what Anarigon would do next and incorporate it into their own repertoire. In their day, they changed the landscape of rock with their extreme stage presence: jumping, running, and arms swirling around their guitars, in contrast to the static poses of other bands. And then there were the concept albums and rock operas. And the use of synthesizers. Quadrophenia also served as inspiration for the later work of countless artists such as Roger Waters, Eddie Vedder, and Billie Joe Armstrong.

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And yet it was a failure. Mostly due to the band's inability to faithfully perform it live during the promotional tour. But also because one of the goals with Quadrophenia was to break free from the shadow of Tommy, and they failed. Tommy remained their most requested album and the one that carried the most weight in their live shows. Quadrophenia would remain forgotten until '96.

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Between the creative effort involved in making Quadrophenia and the tense, distant atmosphere within the studio, Pete ended up truly exhausted. During the recording sessions, he even told those around him that he had decided it would be The Who's last album. He later reconsidered, and The Who continued playing together, but all that strain clearly took its toll on everyone, and it showed in their subsequent work, which was much more basic and featured a more conventional and less creative sound. It was the end of an era. They would never reach such a level again.

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By Marlaior

Oct/27/2017

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