The Who My Generation Super Deluxe Edition is the definition of an exhaustive archive title. While the set of five CD’s lacks the sheer mass of, for instance, The Complete Europe ’72 Recordings of the Grateful Dead, the iconic British band’s package has a remarkable density. And it’s not just in the variation(s) of seventy-nine recordings, from released and unreleased mono and stereo mixes, but the accompanying content as well. Within a 12×12 hardbound sleeve. there’s not only a similarly-bound eighty-page book, but, also reproductions of select memorabilia that serve a purpose greater than mere objects of curiosity: vividly depicting the mid-Sixties pop era in England, the items illustrate the various means by which the Who courted an audience and kept it.
It makes perfect sense for the debut album to receive the same fastidious treatment previously applied to the band’s masterworks, Tommy and Quadrophenia. In recent years, Pete Townshend has not only come to terms with his past as figurehead of the band, but he has embraced the role, quite possibly from the sight of the young(er) demographic attending concerts by the current live configuration of the Who (see 2016’s Live in Hyde Park CD/DVD release). The songwriter/guitarist seems to be reliving the experience of the early days of the band where they mirrored their fans and vice-versa, so revisiting the work of the group to this detailed extent recalls his own efforts at that time, not to mention those of the four-piece ensemble, as well as their studio producers and engineers in collaboration with management. The Who My Generation Super Deluxe Edition is, in fact, conceived and executed in such a way it renders its previous reissue packages of this album obsolete.
CD 1: New initiates to the Who may be surprised to discover that, in these earliest days, tunes composed by Pete Townshend co-existed with blues, r&b and Motown cover material within the group’s stage repertoire and, not surprisingly, found their way to their recorded output as well. Originals such as “Out in the Street,” aimed at the Mod subculture upon which the Who, their publicity agent(s) and management patterned their brand, are juxtaposed with personal expression like “La La La Lies.” And while it might seem a bit of a reach to hear the Who (ever-so-gleefully) doing Martha & the Vandellas’ “(Love Is Like A) Heatwave” or James Brown’s “Please Please Please,” it’s well to recall how the Detroit movement dominated pop radio during this mid-Sixties era, around which time the ‘Godfather of Soul’ reached the mainstream. Meanwhile, Bo Diddley’s “I’m A Man” put the Who in a position similar to the Beatles and Rolling Stones of the times: (re)introducing the roots of their own music to American listeners. Mark Blake’s essay fully complements Townshend’s own because it is is as forthright in his insight (Daltrey as Townshend’s mouthpiece) as it is replete with pure information (sources of Townshend’s inspiration as varied as classical music and the pop art of the day).
CD 2: If the release of The Beatles’ catalog on CD proved anything (apart from the advantages of sonic advances, similarly applied to the recordings in this box), it’s that there are, in fact, relative advantages to monaural vs stereo sound, distinctions that come to the fore quite vividly in this set. While the compacted nature of mono not only illustrates the density of the Who’s recorded sound even with the vocals, guitar, bass and drums decorated with additional guitar and keyboards, it also becomes a metaphor for the single-mindedness of the group and the audience they were aiming to attract. Meanwhile, as Pete Townshend himself observes, the new stereo mixes on the second CD of the set reveal new detail, not the least of which is how much more vibrant than the surrounding cuts are the Mod-themed tunes such as the iconic title song and “The Kids Are Alright.” Meanwhile, the propulsive likes of the instrumental “The Ox” is an early indication of the sonic thunder the quartet was developing on stage that would eventually become the hallmark of the Who.
CD 3: Besides containing notes from Pete Townshend, in turn illuminating and disingenuous, the coffee-table sized book within The Who Super Deluxe Edition also includes a vast array of photos, not just of the band in various settings on stage and off, but of the group’s principals, the quartet’s audience and the very English milieu in which they existed together in the mid-Sixties. Reproductions of period memorabilia, such as admission cards to TV and club appearances and two concert posters, represent the Who’s abiding interest in art movements of the day as much as the distinctive style they cultivated in their clothing as well as their music; the colorful detail extends to the CD graphics as well as inner design of the book and its sleeve. All of which may or may not compensate for a lack of maximum CD playing time in the cases of three discs here running between thirty and forty minutes: camouflaging that arguable shortfall is the particularly astute sequencing on this disc, which positions an extended version of the title song like the dramatic finale of a performance.
CD 4: Close to two dozen cuts each of both mono and stereo outtakes and alternative mixes should mollify completist collectors and devotees of the Who and Pete Townshend in particular, particularly as they sow the seeds of later works of the Who. Newly remastered in 2016, ten mono tracks are present plus an array of stereo selections previously available only on a limited basis for a total of seventeen, with three of those never before issued on any configuration. Interestingly, (tunesmith for Elvis Presley) Otis Blackwell’s “Daddy Rolling Stone,” plus “Out In The Street” and “I’m A Man” highlight why early Who appearances trumpeted ‘maximum r&b.’ From an even wider perspective, this combination of content reaffirms the increasingly skillful process by which Townshend created so-called demonstration tapes, on his own, as the basis for further embellishment by the group in the studio; the support of the other three members of the Who equaled the encouragement from management and clearly documents how, so early on in their now fifty-year-plus career, the band staked out ground for itself that would remain fertile for decades to come.
CD 5: A direct reflection of how difficult it sometimes remains to tell where the group endeavors of Who leave off and solo Pete Townshend projects begins, this portion of The Who Super Deluxe Edition comprises something of a tease for Pete Townshend’s own archival efforts Scoop (originally initiated in 1983 and due to resume in short order, according to the man himself in part due to his work on this project). If the previous CD’s didn’t clarify Townshend’s prolific nature as a composer, as well as his nascent expertise as a musician and recordist, this clutch of pieces should, even if some, like this title song, are merely fragmentary. In conjunction with the multiple and decidedly varied takes of the title song, among others, the appearance of “Sunrise” is particularly telling: it did not appear on a Who album til their third record 1967’s Sell Out.
