Read Online Who I Am: A Memoir by Pete Townshend - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Pete Townshend
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music for children’s TV puppet series like Thunderbirds and Fireball XL5 . Dick James, The Beatles’ co-publisher at the time, heard ‘It Was You’ and signed me to his company.
I was a guy who thought love would pass him by.
Then I met you and now I realise
It was you, who set my heart a-beating.
I never knew, love would come with our meeting.
The song was recorded by The Naturals, a Merseybeat-style band (actually from Essex), and a couple of other groups. It wasn’t a hit, but the fact that it was published at all gave me tremendous confidence. I felt I now had a right to speak up about the band’s musical direction, and even get bossy about it. Roger was definitely in charge, but there was a new tension between us. We were both really keen to make it and had our own ideas about how to do so. Still, we developed a grudging respect for one another that would last a lifetime.
On top of our daily work schedule we were doing gigs every couple of days, sometimes several in a row. Our audience was mainly Mods. A few venues, like the Notre Dame Church Hall in Soho and the Glenlyn Ballroom in Forest Hill, were true Mod strongholds where fashion leaders, called Faces, displayed new outfits and dances like fashion models. Roger and I were probably hipper to what was going on than most because his sister Gillian and her boyfriend were still so solidly in the Mod front line. There were some lovely Irish Mod girls who went to the Goldhawk, the historic music venue in Shepherd’s Bush. I managed, on occasion, to even keep my feet out of paste buckets.
Tom and Cam were caught dealing pot, and deported, leaving their entire record collection behind in our care. I finally moved into my own place with Barney as my roommate, where we set ourselves up as Tom and Cam’s heirs. For the first fortnight that we shared the flat Barney and I thought we were doing very well looking after ourselves, but it turned out later that the landlord had let Mum in every day to tidy up, vacuum, do the laundry and washing up. She still liked to have a protective, maternal role in my life in a way that, as a young, independent man who had flown the nest, I wasn’t willing to acknowledge. I may not have even wanted her to clean up after me, but of course ‘at least I’d get my washing done’.
Jimmy Reed played constantly, and some great girls began to show up. If Roger had had difficulty controlling me when I lived at home with my parents, he was in big trouble now. All I wanted to do was get stoned, listen to records, play my guitar and wait for the doorbell to ring. After a hard day at college I would often decide to forget the band altogether, and if Roger had been less forceful I would have stayed home in my cloud of pot smoke.
We were scheduled to support The Rolling Stones in Putney at the end of December 1963 and I was prepared to be cynical; without hearing them play, I’d decided their reputation must be based on their hairstyles. Instead I was blown away. Our producer, Glyn Johns, introduced me to Brian Jones and Mick Jagger, who were courteous and charming. From the side of the stage I watched them play and became an instant and lifelong fan. Mick was mysteriously attractive and sexually provocative, possibly the first such talisman since Elvis. As Keith Richards waited for the curtain to open he limbered up by swinging his arm like a windmill. A few weeks later we supported them again at Glenlyn Ballroom, and when I noticed that Keith didn’t use the windmill trick again I decided to adopt it.
A band called The Yardbirds, with Eric Clapton playing lead, was hot, and Roger had seen a rehearsal of a band called The Trident, whose guitar player he raved about – young Jeff Beck. In both cases we had real competition right in our back yard.
In February we supported The Kinks for the first time at the Goldhawk. They all had long hair, funny outfits, frock coats and frilly shirts, but the Mod girls screamed at them just
I was a guy who thought love would pass him by.
Then I met you and now I realise
It was you, who set my heart a-beating.
I never knew, love would come with our meeting.
The song was recorded by The Naturals, a Merseybeat-style band (actually from Essex), and a couple of other groups. It wasn’t a hit, but the fact that it was published at all gave me tremendous confidence. I felt I now had a right to speak up about the band’s musical direction, and even get bossy about it. Roger was definitely in charge, but there was a new tension between us. We were both really keen to make it and had our own ideas about how to do so. Still, we developed a grudging respect for one another that would last a lifetime.
On top of our daily work schedule we were doing gigs every couple of days, sometimes several in a row. Our audience was mainly Mods. A few venues, like the Notre Dame Church Hall in Soho and the Glenlyn Ballroom in Forest Hill, were true Mod strongholds where fashion leaders, called Faces, displayed new outfits and dances like fashion models. Roger and I were probably hipper to what was going on than most because his sister Gillian and her boyfriend were still so solidly in the Mod front line. There were some lovely Irish Mod girls who went to the Goldhawk, the historic music venue in Shepherd’s Bush. I managed, on occasion, to even keep my feet out of paste buckets.
Tom and Cam were caught dealing pot, and deported, leaving their entire record collection behind in our care. I finally moved into my own place with Barney as my roommate, where we set ourselves up as Tom and Cam’s heirs. For the first fortnight that we shared the flat Barney and I thought we were doing very well looking after ourselves, but it turned out later that the landlord had let Mum in every day to tidy up, vacuum, do the laundry and washing up. She still liked to have a protective, maternal role in my life in a way that, as a young, independent man who had flown the nest, I wasn’t willing to acknowledge. I may not have even wanted her to clean up after me, but of course ‘at least I’d get my washing done’.
Jimmy Reed played constantly, and some great girls began to show up. If Roger had had difficulty controlling me when I lived at home with my parents, he was in big trouble now. All I wanted to do was get stoned, listen to records, play my guitar and wait for the doorbell to ring. After a hard day at college I would often decide to forget the band altogether, and if Roger had been less forceful I would have stayed home in my cloud of pot smoke.
We were scheduled to support The Rolling Stones in Putney at the end of December 1963 and I was prepared to be cynical; without hearing them play, I’d decided their reputation must be based on their hairstyles. Instead I was blown away. Our producer, Glyn Johns, introduced me to Brian Jones and Mick Jagger, who were courteous and charming. From the side of the stage I watched them play and became an instant and lifelong fan. Mick was mysteriously attractive and sexually provocative, possibly the first such talisman since Elvis. As Keith Richards waited for the curtain to open he limbered up by swinging his arm like a windmill. A few weeks later we supported them again at Glenlyn Ballroom, and when I noticed that Keith didn’t use the windmill trick again I decided to adopt it.
A band called The Yardbirds, with Eric Clapton playing lead, was hot, and Roger had seen a rehearsal of a band called The Trident, whose guitar player he raved about – young Jeff Beck. In both cases we had real competition right in our back yard.
In February we supported The Kinks for the first time at the Goldhawk. They all had long hair, funny outfits, frock coats and frilly shirts, but the Mod girls screamed at them just
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