It's In The Budget

'Who' Bring Back Enjoyment To Rock And Roll

By Kenny Turan

In these days of acid rock, soul, Motown, rhythm and blues, the San Francisco sound and various other musical genres, it is hard to believe that there was once a time when there was only rock n' roll.

Only kids like rock n' roll. No one ever bothered to review it, no one compared its latest compositions to sonatas by Bach. It was just fun to listen to.

Those days are almost gone forever. Today's groups generally take themselves as seriously as operatic divas. The Jefferson Airplane, Bill Graham is reputed to have said, "thinks it's a ballet whenever they cross the street."

This over-intellectualization has led in some instances to a decrease in enjoyment. Groups blast you with fuzz tones, electronic wails, feedback and the like. Audiences sit in awed silence, seemingly afraid to criticize anything any group might do for fear of being thought out of things. The fun appears to have all gone away.

It was therefore very refreshing indeed to discover that there are still groups around that have not lost the human touch. The Who, the British group that played last week in the Fillmore and will play this Monday in the San Jose Civic Auditorium, are a prime example.

Hearing them play made me realize that I had forgotten that rock n' roll could be enjoyable to listen to. Their sound was bright, inventive and above all, pleasant. It was fun to watch them, good to dance to them, easy to relax while they played. It was what old rock used to be, just a regular good time, with no pretentions to being the end of the world. Lead guitar Peter Townshend says it best: "Pop music should, we think, be understandable and entertaining."

This is not to imply that the boys are not talented. But they have more than talent: they have a down-to-earth, incisive humor about them. This came out in the cover of their latest album, "The

The Who, a group that put on one of the greatest all-time exhibits at the Fillmore last week, returns to the area Monday for one-night at the San Jose Civic Auditorium. For some comments on the group by Kenny Turan, who

had been a devout blues lover until last week, read on. From left are: Peter Townshend, Keith Moon, Roger Daltrey and John Entwhistle. Tickets are available at the bookmark.

Who Sell Out," which depicts the boys lovingly caressing gargantuan deodorant sticks, huge cans of baked beans and the like. It comes out in Peter's remark about his famous guitar-breaking at the end of the act: "'If you (the audience) want 'em broke, we break 'em. It's all in the budget, y'know." A delicious candor that is often wanting in other groups.

With the Rolling Stones having abandoned their disastrous venture into realms of electronic and heading back to good time music, maybe The Who can lead a general revolt to bring back the old days, when it was all just plain fun.

Also on the Fillmore program last week were two blues groups, each exhibiting what the other lacked.

More famous of the two was the James Cotton Band. Cotton got his start playing down-home harp for Muddy Waters (everyone from Little Walter to Junior Wells has started that way) and has progressed to Ban-lon shirts and deodorant commercials. His music has suffered on the trip.

Once an inventive musician, Cotton now devotes his time to mimicking others in the blues field. Listening to him was like taking a trip through blues hits of the sixties as he played something from everybody. He quite literally appears to have no shame, even going to the extent of trying to duplicate the wails of the inimitable B. B. King. He actually did a version of "Rockin' Robin." He is much less basic, much more bland and jazzy than a good blues band can afford to be. But the white-Levi-clad audience ate it up. A black crowd would never have stood for it.

Also on the bill was Magic Sam, a still-authentic, highly original, Chicago blues stylist. His guitar-playing was beautifully mellow, fast yet extremely tasteful. What he lacked was any kind of drive in his vocal style. He probably comes across better in the small intimate atmosphere of a blues club, but in the massive Fillmore he did not visibly move anyone but diehard blues enthusiasts.