One might wonder, why The Who is to be recommended on a site focusing on the edifying element in rock music. Well, isn't The Who known first and foremost for a nasty habit of smashing up guitars, drum sets and microphones during their stage shows - a behaviour which may have found some justification i the modernistic art theories of the sixties, but can hardly be seen as particularly edifying for anybody? It doesn't change the picture, that the group in 1974 set up a record as the loudest playing band on earth, or that all of it's members (with the possible exception of choir leader Roger Daltrey) were heavy users of drugs and alcohol. So what's the point of presenting The Who as an example of sound and solid rock?
Well, for a start it may be pointed out that the musical madness incarnated by The Who was certainly not without method. The drummer Keith Moon, who is often pointed out as the decisive force behind the peculiar dynamics of the groups ensemble playing, surely acted as a madman, both privately and on stage. But that doesn't prevent Moon from being broadly acknowledged as one of the most gifted drummers in the history of rock-n-roll. John "Thunderfingers" Entwistle has gained almost a similar reputation for his equilibristic handling of the bass, while the technical merits of the groups guitar player might be a little more controversial - but still the touch of Pete Townshend is famed for its outstanding rhythmical force. Finally, the singing of Roger Daltrey is remarkable for being flexible as well as vigorous and always inspired by an intelligent interpretation of the textual material presented. Essentially The Who consisted of nothing but these four elements; an almost minimalistic setting for music of this magnitude and a good background for the exhibition of their individual craftsmanship.
But the magic of The Who can't be reduced to the individual efforts of its members. The true mystery of the group lies in its energetic ensemble playing, and it is actually striking how little space this ensemble playing left open for any proper solo activity by the musicians involved. It has been said about Keith Moon that he never made a drum solo, because he was playing solo continuously. Off course, this is a bit of an overstatement. But it is a very useful one, and in a way it works just as well for the group taken as a whole: everybody performed with an intensity like if they were conducting the show, and it was the interplay and the weaving together of all these outlets that made up the peculiarly compact dynamics of The Who. One outcome of this is the impression generated, that at their best The Who never repeats themselves musically. In some cases the reason may be found in the compositional complexity of the pieces being performed. But even when the music follows a fairly simple pattern of verses and refrain the dynamic instrumentation will tend to make each reappearance an entirely new event.
The last observation might be touching upon the very essence of the matter. For the noted lack of repetition seems to have less to do with music as such than it has to do with e.g. rhetoric or drama. The Who stands for a remarkably expressive kind of music. As an established romantic ideal for art works the term "expressiveness" might be used indiscriminately - so let's push it to extremes: It's about suppressing the autonomy of the music, about using the music as a tool for something else and about avoiding it gaining any significance in isolation from the expressive intent (e.g. being just "nice" or "beautiful"). Seriously taken such an ideal can really make the waters part. This is what made Richard Wagner despise the Italian opera for its catchy refrains and even blame Mozart for his thoughtlessness in the hunt for beauty. The analogy to the great proponent of musical theatre seems very appropriate in this connection. There is a certain restlessness in the music of The Who, an almost desperate lack of filling and of easy ways of doing things, which might spring exactly from the wagnerian contempt for music without drama. If The Beatles can be seen as the Mozart of modern music, The Who must be seen as its Wagner.
Well, if your business is expressing, you better have something to express - and preferably something a little more interesting than your tooth ache or your last love affair. John Entwistle wrote some songs for The Who and even some fairly well known ones. But most of them bear a distinct stamp of bizarre humour, which might appear rather silly and definitely couldn't carry the pretensions of something like a rock opera. So the groups principal song writer was Pete Townshend, who made nine out of ten pieces and provided The Who with lyrics of an exceptional intellectual depth and scope. It seems to be quit amazing, how much of Pete Townshend's composing was finished before he even presented his material to the rest of the group - sometimes the demo tapes he used on such occasions were almost ready for public release, with several instruments added and only lacking the equilibristic power of the band. It was the poetry of Townshend and his titanic visions about composition and drama that made The Who peak in a series of classical concept albums. And it is his lyrics that adds the final stroke to the the picture of The Who as a clear case of "solid rock" - with or without the guitar smashing...