John Entwistle October 9, 1944-June 26, 2002

The bassist of any band is their backbone. The man who keeps it all together. The man who, even if the drummer breaks a stick, goes flying off of his seat or explodes, keeps the beat so that the rest of the band can go on. And, typically, they are the most talented members of the band. Never has that been more true than with John Entwistle (although Pete may have him on the talent…that’s still up for grabs). He somehow managed to be the voice of reason while the rest of The Who went flying off the deep end. Even while Keith Moon was smashing his drumkit, Pete Townshend was throwing his guitar into the grown and Roger Daltry was twirling his mic stand in the air, John was standing off to the side, too proud of his gift and his instrument to hurt it in any way.

Last night The Who lost that backbone. John Entwistle died in Las Vegas of unknown (so far) causes.

I don’t know a whole lot about these guys’ history…not as much as I know about The Beatles, anyway…but I’ll give it a whirl for the neophytes out there.

John met Pete Townshend in 1959 when he became a member of his skiffle group, The Confederates. At an early age, John was already well versed on the piano and the French horn and was starting to learn the bass. Eventually, he caught the ear of Roger Daltry and his bandmates in The Detours. When he joined Roger, Pete was soon to follow. The band was finally complete with Keith Moon joined up to play drums.

Renaming themselves The High Numbers, the boys started shopping themselves around looking for a recording contract. With a song written by their manager, Peter Meaden (the music was actually Slim Harpo’s “Got Love If You Want It”), called “I’m The Face,” The High Numbers had their first single. But, alas, when it failed to chart they were dropped by the company. (This song can be found on their collection of rarities, Odds & Sods, but a reference to it would later appear on the Quadrophenia album.)

While all of this was going on, the boys were perfecting their live image. Pete, who would become the brains behind the brawn, would throw on a Union Jack jacket, taunt the crowd and, by the end of the show, all of them would thrash their instruments into splinters.

All except for John, that is. He would just stand back and keep playing as the whirlwind of mayhem spun out of control around him.

Eventually they got a real recording contract with London Records. The studio made them change their name to something that they had once called themselves, but never really took it too seriously: The Who.

Roger also gave up playing the guitar at this point. This made John feel like he had to make up for the fact that there was only one guitarist, forcing him to play louder and more intricate parts on his bass than any other rock bassist. And this is where his influence is really felt. No one ever really took the bassist too seriously before he came along. The bassist was just a beat keeper, right? Not much more.

Not so, said Brother John. The bassist is a real musician with real musical feelings.

When London released their first album, The Who Sings My Generation, in 1965 the world stood up and took notice. Well, Britain did, anyway. It seemed as if these guys were talking directly to the kids of the day. Especially the Mods of middle class London. These kids felt completely out of place in the world and had finally found a voice of their own. When Roger sang “Hope I die before I get old” (a line that Pete actually regrets ever writing) he was telling these kids exactly what they had been thinking all along.

A Quick One brought The Who into the art rock arena…sort of. Not only did it include their first American hit (surprisingly it was the very British “Happy Jack”), songs written by all four members (including John’s creepy “Boris The Spider” (a concert favorite) and his ode to an imaginary drinking buddy, “Whiskey Man”–complete with a French horn solo!) and a cover of the American classic, Heatwave, but it also included the first shot at a rock opera-like song. The nine minute plus “A Quick One, While He’s Away” told the story of a wife who thinks her husband is dead, so she finds a substitute. When her husband comes back, she feels guilty, confesses and is forgiven.

Sounds a bit like the story of the a certain little pinball playing boy, huh? I believe this makes The Who the first real self-referential band. Before The Beastie Boys were sampling themselves, The Who was using themes from their earlier albums.

When The Who Sell Out came out in 1967 a lot of people didn’t really know what to think. It was their first concept album and the concept wasn’t just, “We’re another band doing a concert of songs that sound like us.” (Did I just dis The Beatles? Nope.) It was a pirate radio station broadcast, complete with commercials and station identification.

There are a few more Tommy-isms on here (especially in “Rael”), but the real standout has always been “I Can See For Miles.” Pete really thinks that it is the quintessential Who song. Years later when asked about the fact that it didn’t sell very well in England, he actually said, “I spit on the British record-buying public.” Over here, though, it was one of their biggest hits. Personally, I agree with Pete. It’s one of their best songs and deserved better than the lower tier ranking that it got.

Two years (and a threat from their record company to sell better) later, came Tommy, the first real rock opera and Pete’s magnum opus. It’s the story of a young boy who saw his mother and father kill her lover after her supposedly dead husband came back from WWI. The boy goes into a trance, not able to see, hear or talk. All he does is look at himself in a mirror and play pinball. Eventually his mother finds a way to break him out of it and he becomes a messiah to millions of young, displaced people. He and his Uncle Ernie (John at his absolute creepiest–he also wrote the mean-hearted “Cousin Kevin”) form Tommy’s Holiday Camp where the kids can come to play pinball and feel the same way that Tommy did. Things go horribly wrong when the flock realizes that their messiah has betrayed them and they rebel leaving Tommy right back where he was.

Pretty heady stuff for a rock band in 1969, but it took The Who to the status of rock gods and was their biggest hit to date. The album still influences every art rock artist, even if they don’t know it…which, most likely, they do. Of course, it became a movie, another album by various artists and, most recently, a Broadway musical. All with Pete’s blessing, of course.

For the next two years, The Who toiled under Pete’s thumb working on the failed Lifehouse project. (And people wondered where that lame-ass band got their name from. It all comes back to The Who, baby.) It was supposed to be a huge, multi-media event album that there was no way to do at the time. So, instead of finishing it, Pete thought he would have himself a nervous breakdown and release a brilliant live album, Live At Leeds…and then, in 1971, they released the best album they would ever record.

Who’s Next took elements of the Lifehouse project and turned them into rock anthems that, unfortunately, are now used to sell cars and computers, but more on that later. “Baba O’Reily,” “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” “Bargain,” “Behind Blue Eyes”…all of them about the search for something more, something spiritual.

And there, in the middle of all of the torment and soul-searching, “My Wife,” John Entwistle’s lament of running from an obsessed wife. It’s funny, dark and twisted and fits in quite well somehow. It even became a minor hit and a big hit at concerts.

In the interim between Who albums, John started his solo career. He used the same darkly comic twist on life the he had with The Who on albums like 1971′s Smash Your Head Against the Wall and 1972′s Whistle Rhymes. I can’t say too much about his solo albums because I’ve never heard any of them. But Sundazed has re-released these two (his best), so I may get a chance, yet.

It took The Who two more years to put out a follow up and it was their last masterpiece, Quadrophenia. The story of a young Mod in London trying to find salvation in any way he can was maybe a couple of years too late, but it found its niche among the teenagers of the time and is still one of their most popular albums today.

It took another two years for them to put out The Who by Numbers, a very personal album for Pete mostly about his problems and addictions. A lackluster affair all around, John’s song, “Success Story,” is a pretty good rocker that tells The Who’s story through his warped eyes. (“Take 276. You know, this used to be fun.” Was he trying to tell Pete something?)

It took them three years to get themselves back together to record Who Are You, the title song of which is their last great song and their last single with Keith on drums. He died of an overdose on Sept. 7, 1978.

The album itself is full of turmoil and pain, just like the best Who albums, but it’s still not really up to their standard (except for that killer title track…which is now the theme song to a hit cop show…but more on that later).

After Keith’s death, the other three thought about hanging up the towel, but they eventually soldiered on with Kenny Jones in Keith’s role. While Kenny may have actually been a better drummer, he didn’t have the energy needed to truly propel The Who into the stratosphere. Keith’s energy is part of what these guys needed to keep themselves immediate and angry.

After Kenny’s introductions, the new Who hit the road. But tragedy struck on Dec. 3, 1979 when 11 fans were killed at a concert in Cincinnati. Even though they had just recorded some new tracks for the film of Quadrophenia, helped out with a new documentary, The Kids Are Alright and their popularity was at a new peak, they very nearly ended it all that night. Their momentum was stopped by a head on train.

After a few years of reflection, reconstruction and Pete’s near-fatal heroin overdose, The Who released their first Keithless album (1981′s Face Dances) and hit (the pretty good, but nearly lifeless “You Better, You Bet”). It was a hit, but I dare you to find anybody who really thinks it’s a great album. As the three original members of the band have been quoted as saying, The Who pretty much ended with Keith died.

But they kept going for a little while. In 1982, they released It’s Hard and it’s hit “Eminence Front.” Then they went on their farewell tour. Yes, The Who was finally over.

Or was it?

After years of trying and failing to really get solo careers, Roger and John needed money. Roger’s albums just didn’t seem to sell and John’s never seemed to get off the ground. So, in 1989 they reconvened with session drummer Simon Phillips. Unfortunately it was seen for exactly what it was: a money-making scheme. Fans and critics alike took offense.

Over the years they have gotten together again with different drummers to differing results. Then they pissed off their fans one last time by selling their music to ad companies. Pete said, “They’re only songs. Who cares?” But we care. We, the fans who have seen the meanings behind the songs and made them our own. We, the disillusioned teens (at heart) who have seen themselves in his pained characters. The ones who saw their entire future in Tommy. But Pete only sees them as money-making machines. If he did it for John and Roger I can almost understand. But if he’s doing it for himself it pisses me off. At least The Beatles were against the whole “Revolution” thing. They had nothing to do with that. It was all the music publishing company.

Last year they thought that they’d try a tour again. Fortunately, they finally found a drummer that very nearly seemed to have the ghost of Keith working with him: Zak Starkey. And son-of-a-Beatle, the tour worked. I was lucky enough to see them on this tour and it was one of the greatest concerts I’ve ever been to. It may have been basically an oldies tour, but it was one with more life than a lot of the “real” tours going around today. The guys hadn’t gotten old. Oh, sure, Pete and John both looked like psycho grandpas that you love to hang out with (somehow Roger hasn’t changed AT ALL for the last 20 years), but they still play with a spryness that tells the inner truth: these boys are rock and roll gods and will never lose it.

Until now. The Ox has left us and The Who are over. If Pete and Roger continue the tour it’s as half a band. And, while I wouldn’t be too surprised if they did it, I’m not too sure that I would break my neck to go see them as I would have two days ago. With John Entwistle’s passing, a generation has lost the band that gave it its voice. The Beatles gave them happiness. The Stones gave them decadence and roughness. The Who gave them their stories.

Goodbye, Ox. You can stop running now. I don’t think she’ll catch up to you.

Wanna get to know The Who’s and John’s catalog? Check ‘em out here: