Tell Me :
Talk
Holy crap, this is one of the coolest stories ever!
thanks for sharing.
Not to dispute John, but I believe the B-side of "Who Are You" (at least in the original UK release that preceded the album ) was "Trick of the Light."
Here's a great overlooked Who track from It's Hard. An Entwistle composition that sounds more like a song written by Pete:
Yes your welcome. Imagine how cool it was back in 1980 when I got home and told my friends what had transpired. I was high for at least a week from the experience, about the same time it took my ears to stop ringing. lol
I still have the backstage All Access sticker somewhere. This was before laminates became the ticket of choice just a few years later. I've got a box full of them, none from Stones shows unfortunately although I did see a show in LA with Guns and Roses and Living Colour from the second row which is of course, where the real show is. peace
Your references beat my memory. I stand corrected.
I think it's in the 1994 documentary, "30 Years Of Maximum R&B", that Pete says they played loud as a way of intimidating the audience, making sure they wouldn't be able to do anything except pay attention to the band. "There's not gonna be any chatting up girls," Pete said. "If you are in this room with us, all you get is us."
Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 2012-07-12 01:34 by tatters.
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Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
mr_c_ox
()
Date: June 27, 2012 17:50
I remember being quite shocked and upset when his death was announced on the news. I had seen him with The Who at the end of January and he was brilliant. Funny to think a decade has passed by, shows how little or much we did with the time.
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
Jah Paul
()
Date: June 27, 2012 17:58
Not the best quality, but WOW!!!
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
bluesinc.
()
Date: June 27, 2012 20:30
there´s no equal
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
tatters
()
Date: June 28, 2012 01:29
One of the Who songs John wrote, but did not sing. He used to tell a story about how this track was supposed to be the A-side of the new Who single in 1978, but when DJs saw "Entwistle" on the label, they figured it had to be the B-side, so they flipped the record over and played the song that was supposed to be the B-side, Who Are You.
Edited 4 time(s). Last edit at 2012-06-28 02:32 by tatters.
Edited 4 time(s). Last edit at 2012-06-28 02:32 by tatters.
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
tatters
()
Date: June 28, 2012 01:35
Little-known Who Fun Fact: John, not Pete, was the first to wear a jacket made out of a Union Jack.
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
tatters
()
Date: June 28, 2012 02:00
So its 10 years on from that sunny day in LA when I got a phone call from Pete telling me of John’s death. It seems like yesterday. I still think of him often. I miss his love, his friendship and his wonderful dry sense of humour. The great thing for me about playing our music "live", even with different bass players who don't have the same sound, is that John is right there on the stage with me. Keith too. I have said from the stage many times that the thunder they created in their lifetimes still echoes around the Universe. It always will.
- Roger Daltrey
John Entwistle. It's ten years since his shocking death in Las Vegas. I have to say that this is not a particularly special time for me because I remember John every day. There is always something to trigger a fond memory. What does make the time just after John's death in 2002 worth remembering and processing were the massive changes that happened because – suddenly – he was gone, and we had a tour to do, or perhaps not to do. Musically I knew everything would be different on stage. Not better, just different.
Let me speak first then about John the musician.
John's sound was harmonically rich and filled an enormous part of the audio spectrum. There really is no one who can do what he did. Other bass players can copy his sound, and try to emulate his fingering, but at the heart of John's playing was a contradiction. His laid back character disguised a powerful musical ego, supported by immense musical talent. His playing was complex and fast, but there are few players alive who could combine such speed and eloquence on the bass with such good taste musically speaking. Like Keith Moon, he really is irreplaceable. His sound can be emulated, and I sometimes hear players who can approach John's musicianship, but John really was unique, a complete one-off, an innovator who never stopped experimenting.
As a person, as an old friend from my school days, I think my side of the street is reasonably clean. I always felt a strong sense of loving friendship from John, and I think I will cling on to that memory even though Queenie, his late mother, once got angry with me for being angry with John about the way he died and told me that John had never loved me at all. In fact a couple of times John had actually told me he loved me. We were usually alone, and he might have been a bit drunk, but sometimes when we're drunk we tell the truth. I accept that sometimes we stretch it, so I reserve the right to stretch it and believe that John was not stretching it.
When we speak about loving someone, there is always something unsaid. We love people we do not like. We like people we can never love. We might even marry or go into business with someone we neither like nor love and have a wonderful life or career with them. This is especially true for bands. It isn't always easy to know what is the truth, and of course – if Queenie is to be believed – feelings between two friends can be intense but not necessarily equal. For me, with John, the situation is clear cut. There are no difficulties, no blurred images. I loved John, I liked him, I respected him, and I miss him. I don't think he ever put a foot wrong in our relationship. He never said or did anything that I can look back on and fan embers of even the smallest resentment towards him.
On stage with the Who I often look across and expect to see John standing there scratching the side of his nose and take a resigned deep breath in that characteristically thoughtful way that often presaged a funny story or a blistering bass passage. There has always been talk about how loud we all were, and in particular how John's massive sound caused problems for us on stage. John was louder than most bass players, there is no question of that. If there were problems it was because both John and Keith competed with Roger for the role of vocalist. I don't mean that they wanted to be the singer, but rather that they performed like members of an anarchic choir, a street corner singing group, rather than accompanists.
Over on my side of the stage, when Keith was alive, my musical relationship with John was straightforward. I accompanied him. I accompanied (or rather provided a solid rhythmic backbone) for Keith. I hope I accompanied Roger sometimes. It was only when suddenly, ten years ago, John was gone, that I realised that I had inherited a new job on stage with the Who: to play decorative passages, to fill the gaps, to make long sequences of so-called 'solos' musically interesting – because that is what John had done for years, so I had never had to bother. So despite the fact that Pino Palladino is one of my favourite musicians on the planet, and I don't want John's sound to return so that I am re-graded again to a mere rhythm guitar player who gets to play an occasional lead line, when I am on stage playing Who music, and Roger is with me, I am always aware of how different our 'band' is today. It sounds different, and it feels different. Not better or worse, but very different. We just happen to play the same songs.
Some people are utterly without peer. When they are gone they leave an immense vacuum. So it is with John: When he died he left a void that can only be filled with good memories, affectionate recollections, and some healthy and critical review of his occasionally crazy behaviour and extraordinary sense of humour. We met at school, but although we were only twelve years old, John was almost a man by then, while I would remain a little boy for many years to come; we've all known such friendships in our school days. I sometimes say that when we met I was eleven years old because that's how it felt; John was like a fifteen or sixteen year old to me. What is extraordinary is that John took me under his wing so kindly when we first met, and was always a supporter of mine even when I goofed. He was never patronising. I never felt he had to work at it, his support came naturally, and didn't seem to be a part of any agenda. By the way, Queenie was always kind to me too when I was a teenager.
I could go on for pages and pages. But I'm not the only one to be in a position to speak for John. He was the one of us who stayed closest to our most obsessively loyal fans, propping up the bar before and after shows, and enjoying their affection and interest. I'm sure there a hundred stories out there. It would be good to hear some of them.
- Pete Townshend
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 2012-06-28 02:02 by tatters.
- Roger Daltrey
John Entwistle. It's ten years since his shocking death in Las Vegas. I have to say that this is not a particularly special time for me because I remember John every day. There is always something to trigger a fond memory. What does make the time just after John's death in 2002 worth remembering and processing were the massive changes that happened because – suddenly – he was gone, and we had a tour to do, or perhaps not to do. Musically I knew everything would be different on stage. Not better, just different.
Let me speak first then about John the musician.
John's sound was harmonically rich and filled an enormous part of the audio spectrum. There really is no one who can do what he did. Other bass players can copy his sound, and try to emulate his fingering, but at the heart of John's playing was a contradiction. His laid back character disguised a powerful musical ego, supported by immense musical talent. His playing was complex and fast, but there are few players alive who could combine such speed and eloquence on the bass with such good taste musically speaking. Like Keith Moon, he really is irreplaceable. His sound can be emulated, and I sometimes hear players who can approach John's musicianship, but John really was unique, a complete one-off, an innovator who never stopped experimenting.
As a person, as an old friend from my school days, I think my side of the street is reasonably clean. I always felt a strong sense of loving friendship from John, and I think I will cling on to that memory even though Queenie, his late mother, once got angry with me for being angry with John about the way he died and told me that John had never loved me at all. In fact a couple of times John had actually told me he loved me. We were usually alone, and he might have been a bit drunk, but sometimes when we're drunk we tell the truth. I accept that sometimes we stretch it, so I reserve the right to stretch it and believe that John was not stretching it.
When we speak about loving someone, there is always something unsaid. We love people we do not like. We like people we can never love. We might even marry or go into business with someone we neither like nor love and have a wonderful life or career with them. This is especially true for bands. It isn't always easy to know what is the truth, and of course – if Queenie is to be believed – feelings between two friends can be intense but not necessarily equal. For me, with John, the situation is clear cut. There are no difficulties, no blurred images. I loved John, I liked him, I respected him, and I miss him. I don't think he ever put a foot wrong in our relationship. He never said or did anything that I can look back on and fan embers of even the smallest resentment towards him.
On stage with the Who I often look across and expect to see John standing there scratching the side of his nose and take a resigned deep breath in that characteristically thoughtful way that often presaged a funny story or a blistering bass passage. There has always been talk about how loud we all were, and in particular how John's massive sound caused problems for us on stage. John was louder than most bass players, there is no question of that. If there were problems it was because both John and Keith competed with Roger for the role of vocalist. I don't mean that they wanted to be the singer, but rather that they performed like members of an anarchic choir, a street corner singing group, rather than accompanists.
Over on my side of the stage, when Keith was alive, my musical relationship with John was straightforward. I accompanied him. I accompanied (or rather provided a solid rhythmic backbone) for Keith. I hope I accompanied Roger sometimes. It was only when suddenly, ten years ago, John was gone, that I realised that I had inherited a new job on stage with the Who: to play decorative passages, to fill the gaps, to make long sequences of so-called 'solos' musically interesting – because that is what John had done for years, so I had never had to bother. So despite the fact that Pino Palladino is one of my favourite musicians on the planet, and I don't want John's sound to return so that I am re-graded again to a mere rhythm guitar player who gets to play an occasional lead line, when I am on stage playing Who music, and Roger is with me, I am always aware of how different our 'band' is today. It sounds different, and it feels different. Not better or worse, but very different. We just happen to play the same songs.
Some people are utterly without peer. When they are gone they leave an immense vacuum. So it is with John: When he died he left a void that can only be filled with good memories, affectionate recollections, and some healthy and critical review of his occasionally crazy behaviour and extraordinary sense of humour. We met at school, but although we were only twelve years old, John was almost a man by then, while I would remain a little boy for many years to come; we've all known such friendships in our school days. I sometimes say that when we met I was eleven years old because that's how it felt; John was like a fifteen or sixteen year old to me. What is extraordinary is that John took me under his wing so kindly when we first met, and was always a supporter of mine even when I goofed. He was never patronising. I never felt he had to work at it, his support came naturally, and didn't seem to be a part of any agenda. By the way, Queenie was always kind to me too when I was a teenager.
I could go on for pages and pages. But I'm not the only one to be in a position to speak for John. He was the one of us who stayed closest to our most obsessively loyal fans, propping up the bar before and after shows, and enjoying their affection and interest. I'm sure there a hundred stories out there. It would be good to hear some of them.
- Pete Townshend
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 2012-06-28 02:02 by tatters.
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
whitem8
()
Date: June 28, 2012 02:26
Fantastic stuff tatters! Thanks so much for sharing with us. Wow, so much emotion from Pete. What a great open letter to John.
A fantastic lost gem from Thunder Fingers.
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 2012-06-28 02:34 by whitem8.
A fantastic lost gem from Thunder Fingers.
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 2012-06-28 02:34 by whitem8.
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
stonesnow
()
Date: June 28, 2012 03:50
The last time Entwistle appeared on stage with the Who was February 8, 2002 at Royal Albert Hall. Apparently, it wasn't properly filmed, but was recorded, and their version of Young Man Blues is pretty righteous sounding:
video: [www.youtube.com]
video: [www.youtube.com]
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
stonesnow
()
Date: June 28, 2012 03:57
Also in the February 8, 2002, Who show at Royal Albert Hall during the performance of Young Man Blues Pete fell off the stage when a monitor he stepped on gave way, and he made the most of it by allowing a fan to play his guitar along with him for a bit before bounding back up on stage [audience shot]:
video: [www.youtube.com]
video: [www.youtube.com]
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
misterfrias
()
Date: June 28, 2012 04:37
Ten years already? It seems like yesterday.
He was a beast with the bass. I'm going to put on Live at Leeds now.
Greetings from the Jersey Shore.
He was a beast with the bass. I'm going to put on Live at Leeds now.
Greetings from the Jersey Shore.
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
Naturalust
()
Date: June 28, 2012 05:27
I am a huge Who fan and have a good story to tell of John.
It was during a show in KC, Missouri back in 1980 at a venue called Kemper arena. I was just a young teenager but was working at the show and granted access to the band. John was the only one who seemed approachable and so I took the opportunity to ask him a few questions before the show, let him know I was a big fan of his song My Wife, etc. He listened with a real parental like sincerity and then grabbed me and told me to help him with a couple of things. I was kinda star struck and agreed, he threw me the keys to a rental van and asked me to go back to his hotel room and pick up something he had left behind. I'm thinking this is really cool, I just got my drivers license and I'm running errands for John Entwistle. I was on top of the world. I did as he asked and when I got the hotel room and opened the door, there was a few things I had not seen before in my innocence. Not to get into too much detail but they involved the same things he was up to at the time of his death. I grabbed his missing bag explaining to the girls in the room that I had the authority to do so, and hurried back to the venue. John was so appreciative he offered to put me to work for the rest of the tour. I unfortunately had to tell him that I had to return to school the next day and didn't thing my Dad would allow me to take a couple months off. He laughed and set me up on a road case on his side of the stage where I watched the first Who concert of my life as John's special guest. ON THE STAGE. Whoo Hoo! When they played My Wife John kinda looked and me with a smile and a wink, I thought it was all for me.
He was just so nice to me I never forgot it. I looked for him after the show but he was surrounded by many other fans and left pretty quickly. I quietly left after finishing up my other duties, thinking my ears will probably never quit ringing and maybe I will just run away and travel with this band, after I go home and ask my Dad. Never got that chance again but I will always remember the huge giant of a man who trusted this young long haired blond kid to access his personal life is such a way. I never looked in the bag.
Very sad when I heard of his death but he indeed went out with a flourish that reminded me so much of that night over 32 years ago. At least his amazing generosity allowed me to share the stage with the Who, something I cherish to this day. Thanks tatters for this post and tribute to a mountain of a man. peace
It was during a show in KC, Missouri back in 1980 at a venue called Kemper arena. I was just a young teenager but was working at the show and granted access to the band. John was the only one who seemed approachable and so I took the opportunity to ask him a few questions before the show, let him know I was a big fan of his song My Wife, etc. He listened with a real parental like sincerity and then grabbed me and told me to help him with a couple of things. I was kinda star struck and agreed, he threw me the keys to a rental van and asked me to go back to his hotel room and pick up something he had left behind. I'm thinking this is really cool, I just got my drivers license and I'm running errands for John Entwistle. I was on top of the world. I did as he asked and when I got the hotel room and opened the door, there was a few things I had not seen before in my innocence. Not to get into too much detail but they involved the same things he was up to at the time of his death. I grabbed his missing bag explaining to the girls in the room that I had the authority to do so, and hurried back to the venue. John was so appreciative he offered to put me to work for the rest of the tour. I unfortunately had to tell him that I had to return to school the next day and didn't thing my Dad would allow me to take a couple months off. He laughed and set me up on a road case on his side of the stage where I watched the first Who concert of my life as John's special guest. ON THE STAGE. Whoo Hoo! When they played My Wife John kinda looked and me with a smile and a wink, I thought it was all for me.
He was just so nice to me I never forgot it. I looked for him after the show but he was surrounded by many other fans and left pretty quickly. I quietly left after finishing up my other duties, thinking my ears will probably never quit ringing and maybe I will just run away and travel with this band, after I go home and ask my Dad. Never got that chance again but I will always remember the huge giant of a man who trusted this young long haired blond kid to access his personal life is such a way. I never looked in the bag.
Very sad when I heard of his death but he indeed went out with a flourish that reminded me so much of that night over 32 years ago. At least his amazing generosity allowed me to share the stage with the Who, something I cherish to this day. Thanks tatters for this post and tribute to a mountain of a man. peace
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
rocker1
()
Date: June 28, 2012 06:20
Quote
Naturalust
I am a huge Who fan and have a good story to tell of John.
It was during a show in KC, Missouri back in 1980 at a venue called Kemper arena. I was just a young teenager but was working at the show and granted access to the band. John was the only one who seemed approachable and so I took the opportunity to ask him a few questions before the show, let him know I was a big fan of his song My Wife, etc. He listened with a real parental like sincerity and then grabbed me and told me to help him with a couple of things. I was kinda star struck and agreed, he threw me the keys to a rental van and asked me to go back to his hotel room and pick up something he had left behind. I'm thinking this is really cool, I just got my drivers license and I'm running errands for John Entwistle. I was on top of the world. I did as he asked and when I got the hotel room and opened the door, there was a few things I had not seen before in my innocence. Not to get into too much detail but they involved the same things he was up to at the time of his death. I grabbed his missing bag explaining to the girls in the room that I had the authority to do so, and hurried back to the venue. John was so appreciative he offered to put me to work for the rest of the tour. I unfortunately had to tell him that I had to return to school the next day and didn't thing my Dad would allow me to take a couple months off. He laughed and set me up on a road case on his side of the stage where I watched the first Who concert of my life as John's special guest. ON THE STAGE. Whoo Hoo! When they played My Wife John kinda looked and me with a smile and a wink, I thought it was all for me.
He was just so nice to me I never forgot it. I looked for him after the show but he was surrounded by many other fans and left pretty quickly. I quietly left after finishing up my other duties, thinking my ears will probably never quit ringing and maybe I will just run away and travel with this band, after I go home and ask my Dad. Never got that chance again but I will always remember the huge giant of a man who trusted this young long haired blond kid to access his personal life is such a way. I never looked in the bag.
Very sad when I heard of his death but he indeed went out with a flourish that reminded me so much of that night over 32 years ago. At least his amazing generosity allowed me to share the stage with the Who, something I cherish to this day. Thanks tatters for this post and tribute to a mountain of a man. peace
Holy crap, this is one of the coolest stories ever!
thanks for sharing.
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
loog droog
()
Date: June 28, 2012 19:40
Quote
tatters
One of the Who songs John wrote, but did not sing. He used to tell a story about how this track was supposed to be the A-side of the new Who single in 1978, but when DJs saw "Entwistle" on the label, they figured it had to be the B-side, so they flipped the record over and played the song that was supposed to be the B-side, Who Are You.
Not to dispute John, but I believe the B-side of "Who Are You" (at least in the original UK release that preceded the album ) was "Trick of the Light."
Here's a great overlooked Who track from It's Hard. An Entwistle composition that sounds more like a song written by Pete:
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
tatters
()
Date: June 29, 2012 01:25
Had Enough (The Who song)
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
"Had Enough" is a song written by The Who bassist John Entwistle, and featured on their eighth studio album, Who Are You. It was also released as a double A-sided single with "Who Are You", making it Entwistle's second single A-side, after "Postcard" from Odds & Sods in 1974. Despite this, "Had Enough" received far less radio airplay than "Who Are You", and was never performed live by the Who, although it featured in some of Entwistle's solo concerts. "Had Enough" was the second John Entwistle composition that had Roger Daltrey on vocals (after "Someone's Coming" from 1967), and unusually for a Who song, it features a full string orchestra, which was arranged by Ted Astley and were much to the annoyance of Daltrey, who reportedly headbutted producer Glyn Johns over it. Like "905", "Had Enough" was planned to feature on a rock opera in the process of being written by Entwistle, but was never finished. It was written a long time before work was started on Who Are You, and was shelved when Entwistle gave up on his project, but was handed over for the revived Lifehouse project. The lyrics describe the main character of the failed rock opera, 905, finally snapping under the pressure and stress of his life.
References
^ [www.thewho.net]
^ [www.thewho.net]
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
"Had Enough" is a song written by The Who bassist John Entwistle, and featured on their eighth studio album, Who Are You. It was also released as a double A-sided single with "Who Are You", making it Entwistle's second single A-side, after "Postcard" from Odds & Sods in 1974. Despite this, "Had Enough" received far less radio airplay than "Who Are You", and was never performed live by the Who, although it featured in some of Entwistle's solo concerts. "Had Enough" was the second John Entwistle composition that had Roger Daltrey on vocals (after "Someone's Coming" from 1967), and unusually for a Who song, it features a full string orchestra, which was arranged by Ted Astley and were much to the annoyance of Daltrey, who reportedly headbutted producer Glyn Johns over it. Like "905", "Had Enough" was planned to feature on a rock opera in the process of being written by Entwistle, but was never finished. It was written a long time before work was started on Who Are You, and was shelved when Entwistle gave up on his project, but was handed over for the revived Lifehouse project. The lyrics describe the main character of the failed rock opera, 905, finally snapping under the pressure and stress of his life.
References
^ [www.thewho.net]
^ [www.thewho.net]
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
Naturalust
()
Date: June 29, 2012 01:35
Quote
rocker1Quote
Naturalust
I am a huge Who fan and have a good story to tell of John.
It was during a show in KC, Missouri back in 1980 at a venue called Kemper arena. I was just a young teenager but was working at the show and granted access to the band. John was the only one who seemed approachable and so I took the opportunity to ask him a few questions before the show, let him know I was a big fan of his song My Wife, etc. He listened with a real parental like sincerity and then grabbed me and told me to help him with a couple of things. I was kinda star struck and agreed, he threw me the keys to a rental van and asked me to go back to his hotel room and pick up something he had left behind. I'm thinking this is really cool, I just got my drivers license and I'm running errands for John Entwistle. I was on top of the world. I did as he asked and when I got the hotel room and opened the door, there was a few things I had not seen before in my innocence. Not to get into too much detail but they involved the same things he was up to at the time of his death. I grabbed his missing bag explaining to the girls in the room that I had the authority to do so, and hurried back to the venue. John was so appreciative he offered to put me to work for the rest of the tour. I unfortunately had to tell him that I had to return to school the next day and didn't thing my Dad would allow me to take a couple months off. He laughed and set me up on a road case on his side of the stage where I watched the first Who concert of my life as John's special guest. ON THE STAGE. Whoo Hoo! When they played My Wife John kinda looked and me with a smile and a wink, I thought it was all for me.
He was just so nice to me I never forgot it. I looked for him after the show but he was surrounded by many other fans and left pretty quickly. I quietly left after finishing up my other duties, thinking my ears will probably never quit ringing and maybe I will just run away and travel with this band, after I go home and ask my Dad. Never got that chance again but I will always remember the huge giant of a man who trusted this young long haired blond kid to access his personal life is such a way. I never looked in the bag.
Very sad when I heard of his death but he indeed went out with a flourish that reminded me so much of that night over 32 years ago. At least his amazing generosity allowed me to share the stage with the Who, something I cherish to this day. Thanks tatters for this post and tribute to a mountain of a man. peace
Holy crap, this is one of the coolest stories ever!
thanks for sharing.
Yes your welcome. Imagine how cool it was back in 1980 when I got home and told my friends what had transpired. I was high for at least a week from the experience, about the same time it took my ears to stop ringing. lol
I still have the backstage All Access sticker somewhere. This was before laminates became the ticket of choice just a few years later. I've got a box full of them, none from Stones shows unfortunately although I did see a show in LA with Guns and Roses and Living Colour from the second row which is of course, where the real show is. peace
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
loog droog
()
Date: June 29, 2012 01:49
Quote
tatters
Had Enough (The Who song)
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
"Had Enough" is a song written by The Who bassist John Entwistle, and featured on their eighth studio album, Who Are You. It was also released as a double A-sided single with "Who Are You", making it Entwistle's second single A-side, after "Postcard" from Odds & Sods in 1974. Despite this, "Had Enough" received far less radio airplay than "Who Are You", and was never performed live by the Who, although it featured in some of Entwistle's solo concerts. "Had Enough" was the second John Entwistle composition that had Roger Daltrey on vocals (after "Someone's Coming" from 1967), and unusually for a Who song, it features a full string orchestra, which was arranged by Ted Astley and were much to the annoyance of Daltrey, who reportedly headbutted producer Glyn Johns over it. Like "905", "Had Enough" was planned to feature on a rock opera in the process of being written by Entwistle, but was never finished. It was written a long time before work was started on Who Are You, and was shelved when Entwistle gave up on his project, but was handed over for the revived Lifehouse project. The lyrics describe the main character of the failed rock opera, 905, finally snapping under the pressure and stress of his life.
References
^ [www.thewho.net]
^ [www.thewho.net]
Your references beat my memory. I stand corrected.
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
whitem8
()
Date: June 29, 2012 03:09
Naturalist what an amazing story! WHEW! The memory of that must be incredible. What a great guy he was.
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
tatters
()
Date: July 11, 2012 15:53
11 July 2012
REFLECTIONS ON JOHN ENTWISTLE
JOHN ENTWISTLE
(1944-2002)
Written by Chris Charlesworth for Bass Guitar Magazine.
Many thanks, Chris.
It is a cliché that celebrities tend to be shorter in real life than they appear on stage and John Entwistle, who often wore brightly-coloured Cuban-heeled boots to raise his profile when he was out and about, was no exception to this. But in every other way John was bigger in real life: louder, funnier, weirder, more outspoken, more whimsical, more macabre and certainly more scornful than most of the industry in which he worked for most of his 57 years.
John was an enigma. That he was the best bass guitarist of his generation is not in dispute, but because of the peculiar demands placed upon him by The Who he wasn’t a bass player in the accepted sense of the term because he didn’t play bass like anyone else, any more than Keith Moon played the drums like anyone else or, for that matter, Pete Townshend the guitar. “His playing was so dextrous and inventive that he was often indistinguishable from a second guitar,” was the astute observation of former Who PR Keith Altham in an appreciation of John posted on the website Rock’s Back Pages. Audiences certainly heard John but many thought that what they heard was being played by Townshend. When John first took his own band on the road in 1974 it sounded a lot like The Who because John’s style of playing and the sound he got from his equipment was unique, so only then did fans realise the full extent of his contribution to The Who. Conversely, when after his death in 2002 The Who replaced John with Pino Palladino seasoned observers noted John’s absence not just because his physical presence was missing stage left but because the actual sound of The Who was no longer the same; it lacked his musical input, that huge and inimitable bass and mid-range harmonic, the Entwistle signature. John wrote a song entitled ‘The Quiet One’ because that was the way he thought he was perceived by fans, but in reality he was as loud as they come, certainly as loud as anyone else in this spectacularly loud group.
More than anything else, John loved to play, to perform, to see and hear the crowds, yet he didn’t appear as if he was enjoying himself up there. He rarely smiled on stage and, indeed, often looked bored to tears. He just stood there motionless, his fingers a blur as he plucked his bass strings with supreme skill and casual panache, except when he was called upon to sing one of his own Who songs, ‘Boris The Spider’, ‘Heaven And Hell’ or ‘My Wife’, to contribute backing vocals, or step forward to rattle off a stunning solo bass part in ‘Dreaming From The Waist’ or ‘5.15’; and afterwards, as the crowds cheered him, he’d simply mumble a quick ‘Thank you’ into the mike in his deep, crusty voice, then step back again into the hinterland of his immense speaker cabinets, and resume his seen-it-all-before demeanour.
He could be secretive but at the same time very revealing. Pete Townshend didn’t discover that John had been a Freemason for most of his life until the day of John’s funeral. At that funeral the eulogy was given by a local innkeeper who never once mentioned the bass guitar or even The Who. He did mention that John had bought a new roof for the Stow-on-the-Wold cricket pavilion, and that he was a valued customer at the town’s many pubs and antique shops – but it seemed to this attendee as if John’s life as a rock musician was not something that was widely discussed in the town where he made his home.
Interviewed by Tony Fletcher for his Keith Moon biography Dear Boy, however, John let fly with some home truths about his working life that were as revealing as any interview anyone in The Who ever gave, and candour was one of their many virtues. “I wasted my whole @#$%& career on The Who,” he said between gulps of Remy Martin brandy, his favourite tipple. “Complete @#$%& waste of time. I should be a multi-millionaire. I should be retired by now. I’ll be known as an innovative bass player. But that doesn’t help get my swimming pool rebuilt and let me sit on my arse watching TV all day. I wouldn’t want to, but I’d like the chance to be able to.”
This interview took place in the mid-nineties, at a time when John’s frustration at The Who’s post-Moon stop-start career, itself a product of Townshend’s need to find creative fulfilment elsewhere, was at its worst. There was also the gut-wrenching realisation that because of catastrophic business moves in the mid-sixties The Who would never make anything like as much as they deserved in royalties from the sales of their records. It is not hard to imagine John brooding over the rock star names in the Sunday Times Rich List, the individual Beatles, Stones, Floyds, Zeppelins and Queens, and, brandy bottle to hand, cursing his luck that he wasn’t amongst them.
Time was, though, when the pride he took in his work was all the motivation he required, and woe betide anyone who might so much as think about usurping his position. Mountain guitarist Leslie West has recalled how John bristled when Felix Pappalardi turned up with his bass amps to the aborted New York sessions for Who’s Next in early 1971. “John came in and said, ‘What’s this?’” West told US writer Richie Unterberger. “Felix said, ‘My bass amps.’ John said, ‘I’m the bass player in the @#$%& Who.’ It got a little heated and he [Pappalardi] left.”
John was a rocker at heart, inspired by the twangy guitar of Duane Eddy, yet he was in a band that surfed the mod craze of the early sixties, though to be fair so was Roger Daltrey. The songs on his solo albums reflect his love of fifties rock’n’roll, and also his well-known – but often tongue-in-cheek – black sense of humour. ‘Do The Dangle’ is a meditation on suicide by self-hanging, set to a 12-bar beat that would fit snugly alongside any of the daft American dance crazes of the era, while anyone privy to the way John’s dark mind worked would know from the titles alone that ‘Roller Skate Kate’ and ‘Peg Leg Peggy’ were destined for a sticky end. Like many of his elite contemporaries in the bass trade – McCartney, Bruce, Jones – John came from a musical family and had some formal training as a musician. Until the endless cigarettes and other intoxicants ravaged his voice, he could sing from falsetto down to basso-profondo; “I’d like to help you son but you’re too young to vote,” his low register set-piece in ‘Summertime Blues’, was always a joy to hear.
From the mid-seventies until his death John’s main home was a gigantic hunting lodge called Quarwood on the outskirts of Stow, a 55-room pile set in 40 acres that always looked in need of a lick of paint. Suits of armour from medieval times greeted visitors who arrived by the front porch, an effigy of Quasimodo hung from a 40-foot bell rope in the hall, a human skeleton reclined gracefully in a Regency chair, and the walls of the downstairs loo were covered from floor to ceiling in gold discs. In the rarely-used kitchen – the household ate out a lot or ordered takeaways – were three huge birdcages that housed exotic and noisy parrots; from the ceiling of the much-used bar – the household drank in a lot and ordered bottles by the case – dangled scores of embalmed marlin, the crème de la crème of game fish; and tarantulas frolicked in a glass case in the living room. A bass rig designed for outdoor stadium use sat next to the bar and when John plugged in the din was such that my daughter, then six, ran screaming from the room. His pianola, too, was set at 11. John, of course, was well nigh stone deaf by the nineties.
That particular visit to Quarwood was in order to discuss liner notes for a JAE ‘best-of’ album which John had asked me to write. I had proposed that my wife design the sleeve and John acquiesced, so a family visit was in order. John’s mum, Queenie, was quite taken with our infant son, and before I settled down with the master of the house in the recording studio to talk business he kindly offered to play a video of Snow White & The Seven Dwarves for my daughter, but accidentally inserted into his player a pornographic version of the age-old fairy tale. Fortunately his girlfriend Lisa was on hand to hit the stop button when she realised John’s error.
Come to think of it, the first video player/recorder I ever saw was at John’s house in Ealing in 1971. He loved gadgets and was happy to demonstrate it for me. It was enormous by modern day standards, a big grey contraption made by Philips, and the early cassettes were the size of cigar boxes. He told me it had cost him £800, no mean sum in the early seventies. Outside in the drive was a black Cadillac stretch limousine, probably the only one in Britain. He’d taken a shine to them in America and had one shipped over. At Quarwood he had a green Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow that had been specially converted into a station wagon so that it could transport his pack of Irish wolfhounds.
John was an honourable man. When I invoiced him for the work I’d done on that CD sleeve a cheque arrived by return post. When I invoiced Universal Music for work I’d done on other Who-related repackaging I was still waiting for my money three months later. Then again, it did not pay to cross him. Who manager Bill Curbishley tells a wonderful tale of how Keith Moon, drunk as a skunk after a gig, entered John’s luxurious Paris hotel suite where he and his first wife Alison were about to enjoy an intimate, candlelit meal. Moon bit a chunk out of John’s steak, quaffed the vintage claret straight from the bottle, then staggered over to a corner to relieve himself on the carpet before collapsing, sparko, on the floor. John sat there impassively for a moment, then dragged Moon’s collapsed carcass back to his own suite. Once inside John smashed all the furniture to smithereens, shutting the door behind him. When Moon came to he thought he’d done the damage and meekly paid up. Curbishley never told him the truth.
On another occasion, in Houston, Daltrey, eternally complaining about John’s bass level, reprimanded him onstage by demanding that he “turn the @#$%& down”. John countered with, “Well, you play the @#$%& thing then”. The normally unflappable bassist then locked himself in the dressing room and refused to return for the encore. Curbishley tried in vain to persuade him otherwise but John was livid and would not be assuaged. Curbishley finally pleaded through the door, “If you won’t come back because of Roger, would you at least consider coming back for the 10,000 people outside that are cheering for you?” There was a silence and then a casual but gruff, “Yeah, I suppose I could do it for them.”
Indeed, John’s allegiance to Who fans has been noted in fan forums the world over. While after concerts Pete would retire to muse on his avatar, Roger to squire the prettiest girl lingering backstage and Keith to get up to all kinds of carefree mischief, John would remain behind and commune with Who fans, happy to answer questions about the group and sign autographs for one and all. I cannot think of any other rock star of his stature who was more gracious to fans, the lifeblood of the music industry after all, than John, nor fans who appreciated this princely attitude so much.
John took great care of his appearance and I never once saw him looking scruffy, on stage or off. He generally rose in the late afternoon, immaculately dressed, and consumed a ‘full English’. He was gregarious, sociable, especially – as noted – to genuine Who fans, and, like Keith Moon, a first-rate host. The bar at Quarwood was the setting for many memorable parties. He was generous to his friends but, unlike Moon, wary of freeloaders. John was also a ladies man, courteous and worldly. He was married twice, fathered one son, Christopher, from his first marriage, and for the last 12 or so years of his life lived at Quarwood with an American girl called Lisa Pritchard-Johnson, a former beau of his great friend Joe Walsh. That in the remaining year of her own life Lisa would create a minor local scandal by becoming romantically linked with the married Vicar of Stow, the same cleric who conducted his funeral service, would no doubt have caused John to collapse in gales of laughter.
John Entwistle died in bed in the arms of a good-time girl on June 27, 2002, in hotel room 658 at the Hard Rock Café & Casino in Las Vegas on the eve of a US tour by The Who that Townshend had agreed to do in order to shore up John’s finances. An inquest decided that death was due to a heart attack induced by cocaine. “Sad though it is,” said Roger Daltrey, “if he could have written an ending for himself it would have been very similar to the one he had.” Few who had known John would disagree.
Chris Charlesworth.
REFLECTIONS ON JOHN ENTWISTLE
JOHN ENTWISTLE
(1944-2002)
Written by Chris Charlesworth for Bass Guitar Magazine.
Many thanks, Chris.
It is a cliché that celebrities tend to be shorter in real life than they appear on stage and John Entwistle, who often wore brightly-coloured Cuban-heeled boots to raise his profile when he was out and about, was no exception to this. But in every other way John was bigger in real life: louder, funnier, weirder, more outspoken, more whimsical, more macabre and certainly more scornful than most of the industry in which he worked for most of his 57 years.
John was an enigma. That he was the best bass guitarist of his generation is not in dispute, but because of the peculiar demands placed upon him by The Who he wasn’t a bass player in the accepted sense of the term because he didn’t play bass like anyone else, any more than Keith Moon played the drums like anyone else or, for that matter, Pete Townshend the guitar. “His playing was so dextrous and inventive that he was often indistinguishable from a second guitar,” was the astute observation of former Who PR Keith Altham in an appreciation of John posted on the website Rock’s Back Pages. Audiences certainly heard John but many thought that what they heard was being played by Townshend. When John first took his own band on the road in 1974 it sounded a lot like The Who because John’s style of playing and the sound he got from his equipment was unique, so only then did fans realise the full extent of his contribution to The Who. Conversely, when after his death in 2002 The Who replaced John with Pino Palladino seasoned observers noted John’s absence not just because his physical presence was missing stage left but because the actual sound of The Who was no longer the same; it lacked his musical input, that huge and inimitable bass and mid-range harmonic, the Entwistle signature. John wrote a song entitled ‘The Quiet One’ because that was the way he thought he was perceived by fans, but in reality he was as loud as they come, certainly as loud as anyone else in this spectacularly loud group.
More than anything else, John loved to play, to perform, to see and hear the crowds, yet he didn’t appear as if he was enjoying himself up there. He rarely smiled on stage and, indeed, often looked bored to tears. He just stood there motionless, his fingers a blur as he plucked his bass strings with supreme skill and casual panache, except when he was called upon to sing one of his own Who songs, ‘Boris The Spider’, ‘Heaven And Hell’ or ‘My Wife’, to contribute backing vocals, or step forward to rattle off a stunning solo bass part in ‘Dreaming From The Waist’ or ‘5.15’; and afterwards, as the crowds cheered him, he’d simply mumble a quick ‘Thank you’ into the mike in his deep, crusty voice, then step back again into the hinterland of his immense speaker cabinets, and resume his seen-it-all-before demeanour.
He could be secretive but at the same time very revealing. Pete Townshend didn’t discover that John had been a Freemason for most of his life until the day of John’s funeral. At that funeral the eulogy was given by a local innkeeper who never once mentioned the bass guitar or even The Who. He did mention that John had bought a new roof for the Stow-on-the-Wold cricket pavilion, and that he was a valued customer at the town’s many pubs and antique shops – but it seemed to this attendee as if John’s life as a rock musician was not something that was widely discussed in the town where he made his home.
Interviewed by Tony Fletcher for his Keith Moon biography Dear Boy, however, John let fly with some home truths about his working life that were as revealing as any interview anyone in The Who ever gave, and candour was one of their many virtues. “I wasted my whole @#$%& career on The Who,” he said between gulps of Remy Martin brandy, his favourite tipple. “Complete @#$%& waste of time. I should be a multi-millionaire. I should be retired by now. I’ll be known as an innovative bass player. But that doesn’t help get my swimming pool rebuilt and let me sit on my arse watching TV all day. I wouldn’t want to, but I’d like the chance to be able to.”
This interview took place in the mid-nineties, at a time when John’s frustration at The Who’s post-Moon stop-start career, itself a product of Townshend’s need to find creative fulfilment elsewhere, was at its worst. There was also the gut-wrenching realisation that because of catastrophic business moves in the mid-sixties The Who would never make anything like as much as they deserved in royalties from the sales of their records. It is not hard to imagine John brooding over the rock star names in the Sunday Times Rich List, the individual Beatles, Stones, Floyds, Zeppelins and Queens, and, brandy bottle to hand, cursing his luck that he wasn’t amongst them.
Time was, though, when the pride he took in his work was all the motivation he required, and woe betide anyone who might so much as think about usurping his position. Mountain guitarist Leslie West has recalled how John bristled when Felix Pappalardi turned up with his bass amps to the aborted New York sessions for Who’s Next in early 1971. “John came in and said, ‘What’s this?’” West told US writer Richie Unterberger. “Felix said, ‘My bass amps.’ John said, ‘I’m the bass player in the @#$%& Who.’ It got a little heated and he [Pappalardi] left.”
John was a rocker at heart, inspired by the twangy guitar of Duane Eddy, yet he was in a band that surfed the mod craze of the early sixties, though to be fair so was Roger Daltrey. The songs on his solo albums reflect his love of fifties rock’n’roll, and also his well-known – but often tongue-in-cheek – black sense of humour. ‘Do The Dangle’ is a meditation on suicide by self-hanging, set to a 12-bar beat that would fit snugly alongside any of the daft American dance crazes of the era, while anyone privy to the way John’s dark mind worked would know from the titles alone that ‘Roller Skate Kate’ and ‘Peg Leg Peggy’ were destined for a sticky end. Like many of his elite contemporaries in the bass trade – McCartney, Bruce, Jones – John came from a musical family and had some formal training as a musician. Until the endless cigarettes and other intoxicants ravaged his voice, he could sing from falsetto down to basso-profondo; “I’d like to help you son but you’re too young to vote,” his low register set-piece in ‘Summertime Blues’, was always a joy to hear.
From the mid-seventies until his death John’s main home was a gigantic hunting lodge called Quarwood on the outskirts of Stow, a 55-room pile set in 40 acres that always looked in need of a lick of paint. Suits of armour from medieval times greeted visitors who arrived by the front porch, an effigy of Quasimodo hung from a 40-foot bell rope in the hall, a human skeleton reclined gracefully in a Regency chair, and the walls of the downstairs loo were covered from floor to ceiling in gold discs. In the rarely-used kitchen – the household ate out a lot or ordered takeaways – were three huge birdcages that housed exotic and noisy parrots; from the ceiling of the much-used bar – the household drank in a lot and ordered bottles by the case – dangled scores of embalmed marlin, the crème de la crème of game fish; and tarantulas frolicked in a glass case in the living room. A bass rig designed for outdoor stadium use sat next to the bar and when John plugged in the din was such that my daughter, then six, ran screaming from the room. His pianola, too, was set at 11. John, of course, was well nigh stone deaf by the nineties.
That particular visit to Quarwood was in order to discuss liner notes for a JAE ‘best-of’ album which John had asked me to write. I had proposed that my wife design the sleeve and John acquiesced, so a family visit was in order. John’s mum, Queenie, was quite taken with our infant son, and before I settled down with the master of the house in the recording studio to talk business he kindly offered to play a video of Snow White & The Seven Dwarves for my daughter, but accidentally inserted into his player a pornographic version of the age-old fairy tale. Fortunately his girlfriend Lisa was on hand to hit the stop button when she realised John’s error.
Come to think of it, the first video player/recorder I ever saw was at John’s house in Ealing in 1971. He loved gadgets and was happy to demonstrate it for me. It was enormous by modern day standards, a big grey contraption made by Philips, and the early cassettes were the size of cigar boxes. He told me it had cost him £800, no mean sum in the early seventies. Outside in the drive was a black Cadillac stretch limousine, probably the only one in Britain. He’d taken a shine to them in America and had one shipped over. At Quarwood he had a green Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow that had been specially converted into a station wagon so that it could transport his pack of Irish wolfhounds.
John was an honourable man. When I invoiced him for the work I’d done on that CD sleeve a cheque arrived by return post. When I invoiced Universal Music for work I’d done on other Who-related repackaging I was still waiting for my money three months later. Then again, it did not pay to cross him. Who manager Bill Curbishley tells a wonderful tale of how Keith Moon, drunk as a skunk after a gig, entered John’s luxurious Paris hotel suite where he and his first wife Alison were about to enjoy an intimate, candlelit meal. Moon bit a chunk out of John’s steak, quaffed the vintage claret straight from the bottle, then staggered over to a corner to relieve himself on the carpet before collapsing, sparko, on the floor. John sat there impassively for a moment, then dragged Moon’s collapsed carcass back to his own suite. Once inside John smashed all the furniture to smithereens, shutting the door behind him. When Moon came to he thought he’d done the damage and meekly paid up. Curbishley never told him the truth.
On another occasion, in Houston, Daltrey, eternally complaining about John’s bass level, reprimanded him onstage by demanding that he “turn the @#$%& down”. John countered with, “Well, you play the @#$%& thing then”. The normally unflappable bassist then locked himself in the dressing room and refused to return for the encore. Curbishley tried in vain to persuade him otherwise but John was livid and would not be assuaged. Curbishley finally pleaded through the door, “If you won’t come back because of Roger, would you at least consider coming back for the 10,000 people outside that are cheering for you?” There was a silence and then a casual but gruff, “Yeah, I suppose I could do it for them.”
Indeed, John’s allegiance to Who fans has been noted in fan forums the world over. While after concerts Pete would retire to muse on his avatar, Roger to squire the prettiest girl lingering backstage and Keith to get up to all kinds of carefree mischief, John would remain behind and commune with Who fans, happy to answer questions about the group and sign autographs for one and all. I cannot think of any other rock star of his stature who was more gracious to fans, the lifeblood of the music industry after all, than John, nor fans who appreciated this princely attitude so much.
John took great care of his appearance and I never once saw him looking scruffy, on stage or off. He generally rose in the late afternoon, immaculately dressed, and consumed a ‘full English’. He was gregarious, sociable, especially – as noted – to genuine Who fans, and, like Keith Moon, a first-rate host. The bar at Quarwood was the setting for many memorable parties. He was generous to his friends but, unlike Moon, wary of freeloaders. John was also a ladies man, courteous and worldly. He was married twice, fathered one son, Christopher, from his first marriage, and for the last 12 or so years of his life lived at Quarwood with an American girl called Lisa Pritchard-Johnson, a former beau of his great friend Joe Walsh. That in the remaining year of her own life Lisa would create a minor local scandal by becoming romantically linked with the married Vicar of Stow, the same cleric who conducted his funeral service, would no doubt have caused John to collapse in gales of laughter.
John Entwistle died in bed in the arms of a good-time girl on June 27, 2002, in hotel room 658 at the Hard Rock Café & Casino in Las Vegas on the eve of a US tour by The Who that Townshend had agreed to do in order to shore up John’s finances. An inquest decided that death was due to a heart attack induced by cocaine. “Sad though it is,” said Roger Daltrey, “if he could have written an ending for himself it would have been very similar to the one he had.” Few who had known John would disagree.
Chris Charlesworth.
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
tatters
()
Date: July 11, 2012 15:56
I Can See For Miles the way it should have sounded. This is audio from a BBC broadcast in which the band mimed to the studio recording, except that to comply with the musicians union's ban on miming, John's bass was LIVE.
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
Happy Jack
()
Date: July 11, 2012 18:45
I've never heard it, but I think there was a single version of I Can See For Miles that had the bass mixed high.
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
filstan
()
Date: July 11, 2012 20:00
A quality thread to honor one the greats. The hearing quality of my right ear will forever remind me that I attended a Who concert and was too close to the big speakers up front. Those boys were LOUD.
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
Naturalust
()
Date: July 11, 2012 20:24
Funny how Jimi Hendrix explains the LOUD phenonenom in his Dick Cavett interview. He says "we play loud because our music must be felt from the inside out". He also said many bands at that time didn't get this and just played LOUD to be really really heard. Ouch.
I have become way less tolerant of loud these days but ocasionally when the band is tight and the music is divine, there is no substitute. I never thought "they are too loud" when hearing The Who in concert until the music was over and the ringing set in. lol peace
I have become way less tolerant of loud these days but ocasionally when the band is tight and the music is divine, there is no substitute. I never thought "they are too loud" when hearing The Who in concert until the music was over and the ringing set in. lol peace
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
tatters
()
Date: July 12, 2012 01:23
Quote
Naturalust
Funny how Jimi Hendrix explains the LOUD phenonenom in his Dick Cavett interview. He says "we play loud because our music must be felt from the inside out". He also said many bands at that time didn't get this and just played LOUD to be really really heard. Ouch.
I think it's in the 1994 documentary, "30 Years Of Maximum R&B", that Pete says they played loud as a way of intimidating the audience, making sure they wouldn't be able to do anything except pay attention to the band. "There's not gonna be any chatting up girls," Pete said. "If you are in this room with us, all you get is us."
Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 2012-07-12 01:34 by tatters.
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
Thru and Thru
()
Date: July 12, 2012 04:51
I was at the July 1 show at Hollywood Bowl and it was indeed weird to see The Who perform without John Entwistle, it was a little bit somber for me indeed.
Lose your dreams and you will lose your mind...
Lose your dreams and you will lose your mind...
Re: OT: Remembering John Entwistle, on the 10th anniversary of his death
Posted by:
tatters
()
Date: July 12, 2012 15:08
Some more footage from July 1, 2002. The pressure on Pino Palladino must have been enormous. In Grand Rapids, I was right down front, standing right in front of where John would have been. All night long, Pino's looking at me. I'm standing there wearing a John Entwistle Band t-shirt, a John Entwistle Band hat, and a big silver spider around my neck. When he did those little My Generation bass solos, I gave him a big thumbs up, and he gave me a great big smile.
Edited 3 time(s). Last edit at 2012-07-12 15:16 by tatters.
Edited 3 time(s). Last edit at 2012-07-12 15:16 by tatters.
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