By SIMON COSYNS
Published: Today in The Sun
HIS blond curls are way shorter than the lion’s mane of his Tommy days.
But there’s no mistaking the iconic singer sitting opposite me – The Who’s Roger Daltrey.
At 63, he looks in fine fettle. He comes across as thoughtful, perceptive yet prone to throwing his head back in peels of laughter when recounting the good times.
To celebrate the brilliant new DVD, Amazing Journey: The Story Of The Who, Roger takes SFTW through the highs and lows of his own amazing journey. He talks about how music became his passion, how he met The Who’s other members – Pete Townshend, John Entwistle and Keith Moon – how they became superstars and the time he got expelled from the band after a ruck with Moon.
He says rock opera Tommy was the band’s defining moment. He remembers performing at Woodstock in 1969 and talks about the thrill of playing Glastonbury this year. He speaks of his sadness at the early deaths of Moon and Entwistle but says their spirit lives on in The Who today. On the DVD, through countless interviews and fantastic footage, you can follow the story of a Great British Band but here we get the remarkably candid views of its singer.
I’M A BOY
Roger Harry Daltrey was born on March 1, 1944, during an air raid.
What was it like in the late Forties and early Fifties?
It was post-war England. People say “everyone was very poor” but I never felt we were poor. We had an incredible social structure that supported us. The neighbourhood was working class Shepherds Bush. My life was really good up to when I passed my 11-plus. From then on, it all turned to s**t!
Why was that?
My parents moved to Chiswick which is, as the crow flies, probably no more than a mile and a half away, a much more dormant neighbourhood, more of a suburb. I had to move to Acton County Grammar School which took in kids from middle class areas. I’d never met a middle class person in my bloody life! They were talking a foreign language.
Did you become a tearaway?
No, I didn’t. First of all, I shut off and then I started getting a little bit bullied ’cos I’m a little bloke. I had a terrible, terrible explosive temper. One time I got bullied, I lost my temper and I went off like a firework. When I was a strong young man, it was terrifying. It used to frighten me ’cos I didn’t used to know what I became but people backed off. From then on, I got a reputation as a tearaway but I don’t think I knowingly picked on anyone. I just loved to fight . . . that’s what boys did.
ANYWAY, ANYHOW, ANYWHERE
After discovering Elvis, all Roger wanted to do was hear music and play it — anyway, anyhow, anywhere.
You discovered you could sing?
Yeah, I had perfect pitch. I didn’t know what perfect pitch was but I actually had it, which was a help! Then when I saw Elvis it was just “f*** me, what’s that?” He turned my head. It was like watching someone from outer space. I said to my teacher: “Did you see Elvis on the TV?” and he said: “It was bloody disgusting, wasn’t it?” That did it!
Who else made an impact?
Well, Elvis made me notice “that’s a good thing to do” but Lonnie Donegan made me realise “I can do that”.
You played guitar in your first band?
The skiffle thing was taking off. I just had to get a guitar. We couldn’t afford to buy one so I bought some wood and some guitar strings and made one. It wasn’t very good, like playing a cheesewire, but it taught me. It made the noise of a guitar and I could play, relatively in tune, the first three chords that anyone needed for most skiffle songs.
THE KIDS ARE ALRIGHT
Teenage Roger was expelled from school and had to get a job. By day, he was an apprentice sheet metal worker, by night he played guitar.
How did your band progress?
We got our skiffle group together but my first guitar folded up within three to four months. It literally couldn’t stand the strain on the strings. The second one was quite reasonable. Someone at my dad’s work had a guitar and we copied it. It was a big step up and allowed me to go on playing.
Did you write your own stuff or was it all covers?
It was all copy, copy, copy, copy. We went through the Buddy Holly/Cliff Richard period and, all of a sudden, instead of acoustic guitars there was this spaceship, the Fender. Wow!
How was school by this point?
On my 15th birthday I was thrown out. They wanted to get rid of me and used the excuse that I was smoking. My mum and dad were devastated. In those days it was a big deal and, on reflection, I’m sad I didn’t learn more because I’m a bright bloke. But in a lot of ways it was the best day of my bloody life because I got out into the “real” world. I was not untalented and I was willing to work. The first job I did was for £2.50 a week in today’s money as an electrician’s mate. It was the winter of ’62 and, after six weeks, I thought “this is slavery”. It was also bloody freezing. I became a tea-boy and apprentice sheet metal worker.
But you still had these music ambitions burning inside you?
Oh, yeah, I was still playing every night at the boys’ club in the Goldhawk Road. I went from acoustic material into electric. My Fender was copied from a guitar shop window. They were more than £100 then. You could buy a house for £100. That’s how much money they were. My dad had to get the equivalent of a mortgage to buy my first factory-made guitar.
Following ... girls came in tow
When did you think you could make a living out of music?
It was just a progression. We got “would you come and play my party?” and we’d say “yeah, all right”. By then we were The Detours. We were doing covers of whatever was in the charts. We had a Cliff Richard sound-a-like singer and I was the guitarist. We all did the leg movements like every band. It was wonderfully, innocently magical.
WHO ARE YOU
Things really began to take off for Roger when he met bassist John Entwistle, who introduced him to guitarist Pete Townshend. Then a certain larger-than-life drummer barged his way in.
How did you get to the next level?
John Entwistle joined. Our bass player left and I saw Entwistle walking down the street with a homemade bass. There was immediate kinship. I recognised John from Acton County Grammar. He was in a band, playing bass but also trumpet, doing trad jazz along with pop. In those days you did what people wanted.
Did you feel something different when John joined?
What’s weird is how I remember John from school. I was a year older but I remember his character. He stuck out in a crowd. He had a wicked sense of humour and was a nice, quiet guy, a technically and immediately brilliant musician.
Then what happened?
Our rhythm guitarist left and John introduced Pete and again, when Pete joined, he stood out like a sore thumb. Of the 100 kids who came through that year, I remember those two.
Guitar and vocals .... Pete Townshend
What was Pete like then?
Same as he is now. He had a certainty about him. He knew that what he was going to do was always going to be different. I recognised that. As a musician, he just had it. I had a thing about making the music “drive” and he understood it. When it gets sloppy, it’s all over.
At what point did you have confidence to take over the singing?
Singers came and went. I started singing because we were let down by them getting drunk. Lead singers are f***ing temperamental, you know. So I started filling in for the singer as well as being the roadie. Driving the van was useful ’cos I got to use it for all kinds of extra-curricular activities!
Did you meet girls as a musician?
Oh, mate, it was amazing. That’s all you want to do at that age. You just want to party every night. Go out and play music, dance, have fun and have women. It was easy access. Your brain doesn’t go any further at that age. It’s what we’re put here for. It was wonderful.
How did Keith Moon come into the picture?
That was after The Beatles had arrived which was “whoa, whoa, whoa, this is all different.” We started doing their numbers and then we discovered Tamla Motown and the blues.
What other things did you play?
Lots of blues bands did Chuck Berry but we did Howlin’ Wolf and John Lee Hooker. They were doing the easy, accessible stuff but we were doing Smokestack Lightnin’. Imagine this 18-year-old Roger Daltrey singing Howlin’ Wolf songs, f***ing terrifying, frightening the women to death! I did quite a good impression.
What was it like as the frontman?
Maybe because I don’t see the band at all (being out front), everything comes to me through a sixth sense. All I can tell you is that when Moon joined, we’d found the missing link. Our whole world changed.
Moon introduced himself by saying “He’s crap (about our drummer). I’m going to be your new drummer, can I have a go?” We started playing Bo Diddley’s Roadrunner and Moon got on the drums. All of a sudden, Moon started doubling the beat and this roar started up. Then there was Townshend with his rhythmic sense. It was magic, like putting the key into the most perfect Ferrari you’ve ever driven. With Entwistle and his melodic bass, everything gelled.
I CAN’T EXPLAIN
By the mid-Sixties, The Who’s blend of power chords and stirring melodies gave them that elusive, superstar quality and Roger and Co had turned from scruffs into sharp-suited Mods.
Who chose the name The Who?
A guy called Richard Barnes, a friend of Pete’s at art school, came up with it. We were throwing up all kinds of absurd names but we kept coming back to The Who. The sound of it is encompassing.
Can you explain your success?
I ask myself, “How did it come together, how?” It’s like Lennon and McCartney. The sound of their voices together was so unique. You think of all the billions of f***ing people on this planet, so how did they go on the stage and do what they did? There must be a God.
What about your image?
We were like most blues bands in London — long hair, scruffy, like the Stones, the Yardbirds, everyone. Then we met a guy who had worked for Andrew Oldham with the Stones and he understood the value of image and he recognised things were changing very, very fast. He recognised this new wave of youth culture coming through. The Mod era. He said: “They need spokesmen” and overnight we were turned from long-haired scruffs into Mods.
Mod era ... band were at forefront
Didn’t Mods get terrible publicity during that period over their fights with Rockers?
You can’t judge what’s really going on by tabloid newspapers. You should know that! It was more about kids running around more than anything. It wasn’t like it is today with guns and knives. If anyone got killed, it was probably by accident. When you look back at the photographs, you see one copper on the beach with a truncheon chasing 500 Mods. it was more “let’s just cause a bit of havoc”. Every teenage group with that energy will do something.
Did The Who have screaming girls at that point?
Not in the early days but after Can’t Explain, yeah. It was the screaming era every band had on the way up. It was fun but the trouble for a performer when you’re that young and inexperienced, you start to judge your performance by the amount they scream. It’s nonsense, which is why Lennon gave up.
MY GENERATION
Songs like My Generation (“hope I die before I get old”) and The Kids Are Alright were rallying cries for Sixties youth everywhere. But Roger kept his feet on the ground.
How did you regard Pete’s classic early Who songs?
He had his finger on the pulse and we suddenly saw it. He’s always had the courage to break away from the norm.
What was it like when you first sang My Generation?
It was just another song, to be honest. I remember saying “this is a good song, Pete, let’s do this, yeah great”. But it’s only another song.
When were The Who first mentioned in the same breath as The Beatles and the Stones?
Well, people probably perceive it as being around the My Generation era but there was a fallow period after that. We had hit singles and we were a singles band. What cemented us with any kind of musical cred was Tommy.
Pete developed the “concept album” with A Quick One.
A lot of it was to do with our producer Kit Lambert because his father was Constant Lambert, who founded Sadlers Wells. Pete and Kit used to talk about a pop single being great for three minutes but how it could be much more. A Quick One is a kind of mini-opera, basically a tribute to the pirate radio stations. It’s one of my favourite Who albums. So much fun.
TOMMY, CAN YOU HEAR ME
The revolutionary rock-opera concept album Tommy told the story of a deaf, dumb and blind kid who sure played a mean pinball. The Who came of age.
How did Tommy come into being?
Pete didn’t come with it. It just grew from one or two songs. Then it was going to be the story of a deaf, dumb and blind boy. “Oh, really!?” Again I just trusted that Pete could carry all before him. Each day, he would say “here’s another song” and we built it up in the studio.
How important was the album for you?
It was doubly important for me because in ’65, after My Generation, I got expelled from the band on our first tour of Europe. I had a ruck with Keith. The others had started taking amphetamines. I wasn’t because I’m a singer.
Start taking that stuff and the first thing that happens is your voice disappears. At the end of the tour, they were playing so bad, a f***ing racket. It was awful. I went in the dressing room and flushed the gear down the toilet. Moon went nuts. Of course, I was the wrong person to have a go at. Ended up in a huge brawl and I was thrown out for six to eight weeks.
How did you feel during that time you were out?
I thought “If they want to be like that, b******* to them. I started a band once and I’ll do it again”. I was never down about it but when I got the chance to go back, it was all I wanted. Once I was back in on parole, they made life miserable for me for the first year! Then in 1967, we went to America and bonded again, especially on the Herman’s Hermits tour. Even then, if you were the butt of some of Moon’s jokes, it wasn’t always very funny.
Tommy turned things around?
Once we started doing Tommy, I suddenly realised that I was singing about me. I’d been the deaf, dumb and blind boy. I’d become compressed into that character. So I had something. I came out of myself and thought “f*** it, I’m going to do it this way”.
What was it like playing the Tommy songs live?
Often when I come off stage, people will say: “God, you’re so unhappy, what’s the matter?” I’m actually not unhappy at all. I’m actually, in my life, very happy. I suggest that Pete writes songs from very complicated parts of our psyche and if I really want to inhabit a song, I have to go to where he’s been to sing the damn thing.
I CAN SEE FOR MILES
By the end of the Sixties, The Who were one of the world’s most celebrated live acts, playing to ever larger audiences, including Woodstock.
How did it feel playing to all those people?
It was an extraordinary period. It felt like it just happened overnight. We went from 500 people at a gig which was a big crowd in those days to 5,000. And we did Woodstock and we did the Isle Of Wight over here with Bob Dylan.
Prime ... memorable summers
What was Woodstock like?
It was amazing to be there because it was one of the first concerts that had captured the public’s imagination. It was more than just a concert. It was a movement. Woodstock did change America’s thinking about the war. It was the beginning of the end of the Vietnam War but when people ask me about the show, my memory of it is that we weren’t very good.
Your shows got pretty long.
It’s always several hours. And it’s never half throttle.
The Who got a reputation for smashing things up on stage.
What people don’t get about the smashing thing is that wasn’t just violent destruction. It created sound you can only get by smashing instruments. Like Harrison Birtwistle got it from hoovers or boiling kettles.
WON’T GET FOOLED AGAIN
The early Seventies marked a purple patch with Live At Leeds and Who’s Next and Quadrophenia.
Who's Next ... ahead of its time
Who’s Next was a terrific album.
It was ahead of its time. People weren’t ready for it and it didn’t do very well initially. It was, “What’s this weird music?” It came off the back of Live At Leeds.
That’s regarded by some as the best live album ever.
Yet I was unhappy after Leeds. Like I say, the artist is always, “Oh, that could have been better” and I know Pete feels the same. I thought, “Oh f***, we were recording it”. But I can hear it now and say, “Yeah, we were quite good”.
Then, Quadrophenia revisited the Mod era.
You can hear Townshend’s progression in his writing and the classical qualities of Quadrophenia. To write a psychologically-driven musical without it being about “what you had for tea” was so, so clever.
It’s amazing how he got inside the character of Jimmy.
He’s always had that ability but I think Pete is the kind of guy who could possibly write some of his best work at the age he is now because of the way his brain works — with the immensity and complexity of his brain. And you have to have tremendous courage to do what he does.
YOU STAND BY ME
When Keith Moon died aged 32 in 1978, things were never the same. After many fallow years, punctuated by the occasional show and the sad early death of John Entwistle, the remaining members are back. New album Endless Wire appeared last year and this year they headlined Glastonbury.
Why was there such a long time when The Who didn’t happen?
I think other ego drives got in the way. The biggest problem in this business is the ego. It can collapse any artist. But the ego drops away, as with looks and everything else, and you become invisible. Then you can be happy just to be here.
On your recent album Endless Wire, there was this flicker of a new rock opera, wasn’t there?
I know that was Pete’s intention but listen to the album as a whole. It’s a wonderful opera. The album is you and me and everyone. That’s what’s so cool about it. I think it’s a great album but how the f*** do you get it heard in today’s world?
Finger on the pulse ... Pete
It’s very difficult to get actual exposure for most bands.
We don’t even get played on Radio 2 and, if they don’t play you, you don’t get heard.
But you feel The Who is an ongoing project?
Very much. We’re enjoying ourselves. If Pete plays one of his songs, it will be this thing. If I play one of his songs, it will be another thing. When we play one of his songs together, it becomes The Who and that is so special. That ingredient, f*** knows what it is! It’s there and stronger than ever. I hope Pete enjoys it as much as I do ’cos it’s just as good as sex.
Losing Keith and then, recently, John must have been hard.
Keith was so young and that was hard to deal with. With John, you saw it coming. You wouldn’t have changed him. He was a real rock ’n’ roll character and that’s how he wanted to go and I’ve got to respect that. In some ways, I admire it because he made no compromises. I’m sure he knew what road he was on and didn’t give a toss. But I think the underlying reasons we carried on was the subconscious knowledge the music between the two of us, or the three of us with John, had the same drive as the music between the four of us. When either of us goes now, it’s going to be a solo act but that doesn’t matter. The spirit will carry on.
So, you’ve never reunited?
People keep saying ours’ is a reunion. Can we please, please have the luxury of giving up first? We would love to have the luxury of saying, “Oh f*** it, we’ve had enough, we’re giving up” and then we can reunite. I’m sick of being called the former singer of The Who.
How did you find Glastonbury?
Fantastic. Wonderful. We thought who the f***’s going to be there afte
