Not to break their tradition, the Who arrived almost an hour late for their press conference on their latest visit to Denmark. And as usual, they were one man short - Pete had not made his flight from London, was the official explanation, which didn't quite match the unofficial. He simply wasn't able to get up that early, John Entwistle explained.
The three remaining Whos, Roger Daltrey, John Entwistle and Keith Moon posed wearily for the photographers at Star Club's dark disco (thus, the quality of the pictures wasn't very good); Then they were absorbed by the crowd of people present. I stumbled over to a vacant seat I spotted in the gloom, and reached it with only three bruises on my shins, and a "look, grandma without her guide-dog". But I was lucky enough to have sat down next to John, and since nobody else seemed interested, I had the chance to do an undisturbed interview with him. First he gave a bit confusing answers, but that had an natural explanation: He simply couldn't hear what I was asking.
He told me that he was virtually deaf on his left ear.
- That's because I'm always right in front of the speakers when I'm on stage. I can't hear a thing long after we're done playing. It gets worse and worse every time... but it has its advantages. When I don't want to listen to what people have to say, I just turn my deaf ear. They can babble all they want, and it doesn't bother me a bit. John smiled as he said this, and it struck me how much he'd changed - in a positive direction.
- Before we did nothing but slander and work against each other. That gave us a very uneasy feeling. Now we've had a real talk over, become friends, and that way it's easier to get along.
We're also more on equal terms, because it's not only Pete who writes our material any longer. For example, I've written "Boris the Spider"for the new LP. It's about a man who's in his bed, following a spider with his eyes. At last, he flattens it... I like sad songs.
John talked enthusiastically about his new tape recorder:
- Now, I don't go around forgetting songs.
- A little portable tape recorder?
- Could you see me hollering into one of these on the tour bus?
- Oh, no!
A struck match lights the room for a split second, and I watch as John fondles his impressive sideburns.
- Did I have these, when I was here last?
I had to admit that I couldn't remember if he had them or not, but when I saw the disappointment in his eyes, I hastily added that they were very becoming. As a reward, he gave me a short course in the trimming of sideburns.
- I've just trimmed them. A couple of centimetres here, a couple of centimetres there...
It was certainly not necessary to haul the words out of John, to the contrary of the picture the English magazines had painted of him.
- Why are you known as the quiet one in the Who?
- It started with me simply not wanting to answer people's questions. I couldn't know that we'd get this famous. So the English journalists put a label on me - the thing they like doing the most - and I became known as the quiet Who, the one that wasn't worth the bother asking any questions. Finally it started to irritate me. (John looks irritated) So when someone really wanted to interview "the quiet one", I told them a whole lot. That came as a shock for a lot of people, that I could speak even, so now they ask me stuff even more than they ask the others!
John made a grim expression as he explained that the stories that Keith had taken John clubbing to teach him to socialize with people (and vice versa) were complete rubbish.
- Keith and I are friends, and have been clubbing for years. In fact, I go out more than him. So why he's suddenly portrayed as my nanny is beyond me.
What would an interview with a Who be without the traditional question:
Why do you smash your instruments?
- In the beginning because we were angry and frustrated and had to have an outlet one way or the other. Later, we found that it was actually fun, and that the audience expected it. That aside, the destruction is an essential climax. What if we made all sorts of noise, really whipped up excitement, and then just left. What an anticlimax! Now we end it with a major havoc, so that there couldn't possibly be more. But we never destroy anything on Saturday, if we have a performance on Sunday.
- Then the stores are all closed.....
Then the Danish promoter Arne Worsøe assembled his little crowd of helpers, and they disappeared with a "See you tomorrow..."
Out in the TV studio, I was so busy biting my nails, that I just didn't notice the Who's big entrance. And they were on time too! As they hadn't brought their own instruments, they had to borrow some that they cautiously examined. This resulted in John having to get a pencil to clean his bass with.
- You can't see on the TV screen that it's dirty, I pointed out rather naively.
- Nope. But you see, I CAN! came the blunt answer.
One person asked Keith what he thought about Small Faces.
- I've got nothing against them... John's got one [laughter]
Pete wore his Union Jack jacket (people expect it), and clowned in good old Who-manner during the test interview we had. First he laid his arms lovingly around me, and breathed down my neck. Then he acted hurt and answered my questions bluntly, head turned away. The interview ended with him kicking my lower back side, which made me lose the last shred of dignity I had left. But that aside, they were as pious as little lambs, so I was lead to believe that the familiar nastiness was all gone. But in the evening...
There was total confusion in Herlev Hallen. People were crowding in the narrow corridor backstage. The Who's instruments were dropped off by some titanic roadmanagers. But where was the Who?
- They're outside and can't get in, came the answer with a giggle. More confusion: Where was the key?
Some raging Whos were let in. They had Susanne and Per from their fan club with them, but only after heavy persuasion by manager Kit Lambert and others, were they let in. One has to look hard to find tougher security guards than the ones at Herlev Hallen! Only Pete had found some humour in the situation. He thought it was hilarious to have been locked out, and had proposed to get an axe to break the door in!
The humour settled down. Roger stood up, and stared as Jan of Stoke Sect walked around the stage with a squirt gun. Squirting! And he hadn't thought of that ! Susanne, Per and I were in the dressing room talking as Keith burst in asking if one of us had needle and thread. I did....
You haven't missed anything if you never tried to sew up a pair of pants while their still being worn. I don't know if Keith was embarrassed (I doubt it!), or just teasing, because he insisted on keeping those darn pants on, so I had to perform some very back bending acrobatics in order to sew them up. Because they just had to be sewn up.
- I couldn't show myself in these, the way they look, he said with raised eyebrows. And that was true enough, apart from the fact that his legs were hidden behind the drums on stage.
- Oh, you've got dirt on them, I said to a somewhat elevated Keith Moon.
- Too bad, eh? Well, you might touch them anyway...
But he did thank me afterwards, and I was moved to tears.
Roger brushed his hair carefully, while Keith and Pete danced a peculiar dance. Pete's face had a touch of mischief as he "played flute" along with the dancing. He's funnier than people would believe.
Cigarettes and colas were chain-consumed. Roger took a bite of an apple, chewed it thoughtfully, and took a sudden swallow. Gulp!
While Roger made a drawing of Per (and later destroyed the masterpiece to the great disappointment of the portrayed), the group was discussing.
- Drugs? Pete shrugged his shoulders. Take them if you want to. It's people's own business. I neither recommend it, nor condemn it.
They can be very hard to understand, even when you've been a good pupil during English classes. They talked with one or more odd accents, well spiced with very special Who-expressions. I think that that was the reason why it didn't dawn on me what Roger and I had talked about until it became all too embarrassingly obvious. What I thought was an invitation to a party, was in fact a very intimate twosome, consisting of Roger and me. And even though I was instructed by BEAT's chief editor to depict the Who from as many new angles as possible, well frankly...!
While the Who waited to get on stage, Roger held an improvised speech:
- Hello, ladies and gentlemen. I'm glad to be here tonight. I think... I'm a nice boy.
The Who on stage and the Who privately are two entirely different things. While they can be quite nice off, they're almost fierce when they're in the spotlights. Like robots they're controlled by the concert noise, and not the other way around. They seem like puppets, not like the ones actually producing this infernal music.
As it was all over, they rushed sweaty into the dressing room. Susanne, Per and I slowly followed, still shaken. It had stopped so suddenly.
- Does the Who always end that way? Per asked Kit Lambert.
- Yes, he answered, always. BAM!
