Again, Random Selection has chosen something really special: a Who album with plenty of backstory, compelling me to write a lengthy description — if only I were paid by the word! (Or even paid at all, for that matter). The Who Sell Out is the band's third album, a gloriously bonkers affair, unprecedented at the time, yet one that retrospectively feels like a necessary step in the evolution from the maximum R&B sound of their debut to the sophisticated theatrical rock of Tommy. When I say unprecedented, of course, I don't mean that The Who were untouched by outside influences — far from it! Despite having perfected their own distinctive hard-rock style early on, they were not above incorporating elements from the competition. The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band seems to have been a major influence, at least in terms of structure and its whimsical, surrealistic humour. Townshend, despite having a bag of guitar tricks of his own, seems to have picked up a couple more from Jimi Hendrix. And The Beach Boys' Pet Sounds might serve as a counterpart in terms of sonic experimentation and vocal harmonies. For perhaps the first — and, I believe, last — time, The Who rely so heavily on vocal harmonies rather than Daltrey's more forceful lead vocals, and they pull it off remarkably well, although I'll admit I prefer listening to Daltrey's trademark growl. It was the era of psychedelic pop, with its exotic instrumentation and sonic experimentation, and the band embraced it all in this record. But in Britain, at least, it was also the golden age of pirate radio. At the time, the BBC was the country's only major domestic radio broadcaster, and its programming was too conservative for younger listeners. Things were made worse by needle time restrictions, which limited the amount of commercially recorded music the BBC could broadcast. These restrictions stemmed partly from agreements with the Musicians' Union, which wanted to protect employment for its members by ensuring that a substantial proportion of musical programming featured live performances rather than records.This left a gap in the broadcasting market, which was filled by pirate stations broadcasting from ships anchored just offshore from the British Isles. They gave young listeners exactly what they wanted: a steady stream of current pop hits, delivered with irreverence by DJs who spoke their language rather than uptight BBC presenters. One of those stations, Radio London, eventually succumbed to legal pressure and closed down in August 1967. The Who captured the spirit of the pirate-radio era on their next album, presenting it as a continuous broadcast complete with jingles and fake advertisements. In a move that would be unthinkable today, The Who re-created Radio London's jingles, wrote entirely new ones, and even composed full-length songs advertising products such as Coke, Heinz Baked Beans and Rotosound guitar strings. I'm particularly partial to “Odorono”, a fully fledged story song about the plight of a girl whose choice of deodorant proves disastrous for her romantic prospects (“Odorono could have saved her heart”). A shorter narrative, “Medac”, has a happier ending: the pimply youth actually uses the product, with the desired results (“face is like a baby's bottom”). The silly, exuberant “Heinz Baked Beans” sounds like something straight out of Monty Python. The shorter adverts interspersed throughout the album are often hilarious, too, and never less than catchy. The gimmick extends to the iconic album cover: Roger Daltrey luxuriates in a bathtub full of Heinz Baked Beans, while Pete Townshend applies deodorant from a ridiculously oversized container. Meanwhile, Keith Moon and John Entwistle advertise acne cream and Charles Atlas bodybuilding programmes, respectively. It's a brilliant satire of consumerism, perhaps even a comment on the commercialization of pop music — or are we reading too much into it? Maybe it's just harmless fun, as befits a band of young rockers, aged between 21 and 23 at the time. The opener, “Armenia City in the Sky,” is about as “psychedelic” as The Who would get, employing all the fashionable tricks of the era, including backwards guitar loops, horn arrangements, dense organ sounds, and trippy vocals from Roger Daltrey and John “Speedy” Keen. Who is John Keen, you ask? At the time, he was Townshend’s friend and chauffeur. Later, he’d enjoy his own 15 minutes of fame as a member of one-hit wonder Thunderclap Newman. Keen wrote the song and gave it to Townshend, but at the time, it was called “I’m an Ear Sitting in the Sky.” I know it doesn’t make any sense, but it has a certain surrealistic charm, à la Lennon’s “I Am the Walrus”. Apparently, Daltrey didn’t like it and changed the lyrics into something else that still doesn’t make much sense. "Mary Anne with the Shaky Hand" is a great pop single, with Townshend eschewing his usual power chords for a more sophisticated acoustic solo. And all that on a not-so-sophisticated lyric purportedly about a girl that was popular for giving the best handjobs! Cheeky, these boys! Another favorite from this album is “Tattoo,” another short story set to music, this time about two teenage brothers who decide to get tattoos as a way of proving their masculinity. Almost Kinks-like in its blend of humor, nostalgia, and old-school music-hall charm. But the ultimate favorite, of course, could hardly be anything other than “I Can See for Miles,” a quintessential Who single, with its thunderous drumming, layered vocals, menacing groove, and Townshend’s explosive power chords. Truth be told, the rest of the album had never made much of an impression on me. Listening to it again in its entirety, I felt as though I were hearing most of those tracks for the first time. I see now why: I've always been drawn to The Who's more aggressive teen anthems, like “Substitute” and “My Generation,” whereas The Who Sell Out is full of more mature, finely crafted songs, from the nostalgic, melodic pop of “Our Love Was” and “I Can't Reach You” to acoustic Townshend-sung ballad "Sunrise" to the psychedelia of “Relax.” The latter is a rather laid-back tune in the spirit of the Summer of Love, yet it features some wonderfully distorted, Hendrix-like psychedelic guitar. Through it all, Keith Moon is the absolute hero; his drumming is invariably forceful and imaginative, even if it's mixed a little lower than I'd like to keep it from overwhelming the songs. “Silas Stingy” is a whimsical Entwistle composition about a miser straight out of a Dickens novel, a theatrical little number complete with gothic organ, trumpet, and an almost church choir-like chorus. You have to love that about The Who: for all their unmistakable hard-rock muscle, they can also venture into such delightfully eccentric territory, with Entwistle's character-driven songs being some of the best examples. The grand finale, “Rael” is the band's second mini-rock opera, following “A Quick One” on the previous album. A complex piece built around dramatic shifts and a wealth of recurring musical motifs, it feels in retrospect like a dress rehearsal for Tommy. This 1995 CD reissue adds nine bonus tracks, along with a really nice booklet. None is essential, but all are above average. “Melancholia” is full of operatic drama, complete with Spanish-flavored vocals; “Someone’s Coming” is a pop tune spiced up with Mexican-style trumpets; and “In the Hall of the Mountain King” is a surf-prog-classical collision. The Who attack Edvard Grieg’s composition with all their might, as Keith Moon rains fire behind a barrage of horror-movie sound effects, turning this classical piece into something resembling the theme from The Munsters. The suitably aggressive “Jaguar” is an ode to the pride of the British motor industry. Rock music abounds with car songs, but given the album's advertising theme, this one could be considered another commercial — a pretty convincing one, too! After hearing it, I feel like taking a Jaguar for a spin. Then again, I'd probably want one anyway, if only I could afford it. “Girl's Eyes” is a slice of quintessential '67 psychedelic pop, sounding more like The Hollies than The Who, while “Glow Girl” is more characteristic of the band, with passages that once again foreshadow Tommy. The third “Girl” song, “Glittering Girl,” and “Early Morning Cold Taxi” are two more distinctly British pop gems. All four are finely crafted tunes that capture the spirit of the era, but they're a little too soft for my taste. In fact, the Coke jingle tacked onto the end of “Glittering Girl” rocks harder than the song itself! But who can blame The Who for going along with the spirit of the times? Even The Rolling Stones had their soft patch around then. As for the remaining tracks, “Rael 2” is little more than a coda to “Rael 1,” while the alternative version of “Mary Anne with the Shaky Hand” is noteworthy mainly for the guest appearance by American organist Al Kooper. The Who Sell Out is often hailed as a masterpiece of its era, but I wouldn't go quite that far. It's hard to stand out in a year that gave us the Beatles' Sgt. Pepper, Love's Forever Changes, Van Morrison's Astral Weeks, and excellent debuts by the Velvet Underground, Jimi Hendrix, Pink Floyd, and the Doors. Still, The Who Sell Out deserves credit for its bold concept and inventive execution, its collection of well-crafted songs, and its sonic variety. More importantly, it marks a significant step in The Who's evolution towards the ambitious concept albums that would follow.
***** for Mary Anne with the Shaky Hand, I Can See for Miles
**** for Armenia City in the Sky, Odorono, Tattoo, I Can't Reach You, Relax, Silas Stingy, Rael (Parts 1 & 2), Melancholia, Jaguar, Glow Girl, Early Morning Cold Taxi
*** for Heinz Baked Beans, Our Love Was, Medac, Sunrise, Glittering Girl, Someone's Coming, In the Hall of the Mountain King, Girl's Eyes, Mary Anne with the Shaky Hand (Alternative Version)
