MARC ZAKEM ON MUSIC
Two confessional albums rock the ages
Courier-Journal Contributing Critic
"Growing Up in Public" is the title of the new Lou Reed album, yet it could serve equally well as the name of Pete Townshend's latest solo effort. "Growing Old in Public" would do nicely, too.
Townshend's album, which is actually entitled "Empty Glass," is a personal and confessional album, as is Reed's. The albums revolve around the two musicians' current lives, which both Townshend and Reed seem to be enjoying. For Townshend, that lifestyle is a point to which the leader of the Who has been building for the past half-decade; for Reed, it is a surprising move toward the mainstream and away from the life he seemed to have finally come to terms with just a few years ago.
The fact that Townshend turned 35 last Monday doesn't seem noteworthy. Whereas an over-30 rock star was an anomaly years ago, it's no longer the case. Both Mick Jagger and Paul McCartney are Townshend's seniors, for instance, and both continue to rock more frequently than the Who's guitarist (for better and worse, respectively).
Yet, beginning with 1975's "Who By Numbers," Townshend became increasingly obsessed with growing older. "By Numbers" was a much softer sounding album than any of the group's previous efforts, and Townshend repeatedly told interviewers that there would be no more tours for the band. His feeling out of touch with kids 15 years younger only increased when the British new wave started playing the Who's older style of music, only faster, harder and without acknowledgment to its forebears.
Perhaps he felt out of touch with rock because he never fell in for the diversions apart from the music and its audience that other artists succumbed to. All Townshend perceived and cared about was the widening gap between himself and his fans. And the resulting music is a clear example that you are, indeed, as old as you feel. Townshend's talents as a songwriter might have burned out a while back; but he has not yet faded away.
All of which is not as grim as it sounds. Townshend at half strength, after all, is better than most performers full throttle. "Empty Glass" for the most part sounds like the direct descendant of "Who By Numbers." The album contains a few stabs at hard rockers, a lot of acoustic numbers, and that same preoccupation with growing older. The difference is that on "Empty Glass," Townshend not only acknowledges a slower-paced, less-eventful lifestyle — he gladly accepts it.
For the listener, that means that, thematically at least, "Empty Glass" isn't nearly as depressing as it could have been. On "Keep on Working," Townshend welcomes the chance to raise a family and on the title cut he almost takes a que sera sera attitude about growing old.
His wisdom has also been tempered with age enough for Townshend to create a few prettier works that probably would have been impossible a while back. "And I Moved," an account of a mystical encounter, is particularly beautiful as a rolling piano carries every line of melody far past where the lyrics and singing stop. The quieter numbers also showcase Townshend's vocals the most effectively — if Townshend's voice was never as strong as that of The Who's Roger Daltry, it could always manage to be much more evocative.
Still, it is the rockers that Townshend has always been best known for, and he includes three of them on "Empty Glass." Two of them, which begin and end the album, are "Rough Boys" and "Gonna Get Ya." Both are decent enough, although they never truly rise above the feeling of being obligatory contributions to the record.
The third, "Jools and Jim," is a different case. In one fell swoop, Townshend lambastes some stupid punk rockers, who set their own standard of excellence, and more stupid journalists, who can't see meaning beyond their typewriters.
Reacting to unfair condemnation of The Who's drummer Keith Moon after his death, Townshend cries out that the youngsters "Don't give a — Keith Moon is dead" and that the press shouldn't measure the drummer's worth by the hotel rooms he was known to wreck while on tour.
Given the chance to fight again, Townshend does so magnificently. Still, the song is a bittersweet victory for the artist. We might all be happy for Townshend as he comes to terms with his life, but even though he tells us throughout "A Little is Enough," "Let My Love Open the Door" and the other numbers that it's inevitable that he grow old, we hear "Jools and Jim" and want to scream in reply, "Not yet. Not just yet."
