50 Years Later: Revisiting The Who’s Magnum Opus ‘Who’s Next’

Even for those music lovers and historians well-versed in the backstory of Who’s Next (released 8/14/71), hearing the LP today near the fiftieth anniversary of its release is a stirring sensation. The often majestic intensity of the experience derives from both the performance of the iconic quartet and the material: the best of these compositions are arguably Pete Townshend’s finest songs, all of which except one derive from a much larger and more ambitious piece of work titled Lifehouse.

Initially conceived as a new stage show to include the pioneering of pre-recorded tapes and electronic devices plus a filmed record thereof, the execution of the vast project caused a nervous breakdown in The Who’s guitarist/vocalist/composer. As a result, he and his three comrades subsequently focused their efforts on a condensed set of songs comprising a single record and, collaborating on production with the famed engineer Glyn Johns—who had worked with the Beatles and the Rolling Stones prior to this project—the quartet came up with what is arguably the strongest effort of their career and quite realistically the premier rock record of its era. 

The innovative electronic sounds as introduced at the very opening of the album, on ”Baba O’ Reilly,” mark a stylistic progression equal to or greater than that represented by the previous opus Tommy, Similarly notable arrangements permeate Who’s Next, such as the archetypal anthem “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” which also features Townshend’s innovative use of synthesizers and other computer-based techniques: the presence of such forward-thinking sounds, including that of an envelope follower, a feature of the ARP synthesizer used for the guitar solo on “Going Mobile,”  would subsequently become a staple of the Who’s signature style. Such accents only reinforced the power the Who could conjure from their mastery of the tension-and-release methodology at the core of their musicianship.

This fifth Who studio album was certainly their best sounding to that time and may in fact remain so a half-century later. The clarity of the audio suits not only the layering of instruments—most conspicuously the vigorous strumming of acoustic guitars underneath the electrics–but also highlights the nimble fingerwork of bassist John Entwistle. And that’s not to mention the more restrained, less flamboyant drumming of Keith Moon: the controlled thunder of the latter sounds even more like the launching pad for the power chords Townshend was perfecting as integral to compositions such as “Bargain.” That resounding depth also reveals the agility of the foursome’s  interplay with outside musicians, such as Dave Arbus’ violin on the double-time section of the latter tune or the bell-like chime from the piano of Nicky Hopkins on “The Song Is Over.”  

If immersion in the nine cuts isn’t evidence enough, the two-CD Deluxe Edition reaffirms the wisdom of the track selection: a half-dozen tracks recorded at the Record Plant in New York along with fourteen cuts captured live on stage at The Young Vic in London are more than ample preparation for the productivity of the later sessions.  Some of the material seems slight, but the fact is the placement of those numbers in the overall nine-cut track sequencing maximizes the force of the more adventurous material and the explosive nature of the quartet’s performances. For instance, Townshend’s ode to domesticity, “Love Ain’t For Keeping,” stands as the mirror image of Entwistle’s tongue-in-cheek account of marital warfare in “My Wife.” And the subdued intimacy of the former performance balances the driving brass ornamentation of the latter. (Exclusion of Lifehouse numbers later released as singles, namely “Relay” and “Join Together,” prove astute decisions too as both would add superfluous narrative to the song sequence). 

It’s a testament to the strength of Who’s Next that some of its most striking moments are it’s most quiet.  With “Sunrise” and “Earl Morning Cold Taxi,” Townshend had mastered the art of the ballad around the time of The Who Sell Out, but “Behind Blue Eyes,” represents a quantum leap in terms of personal expression married to musical dynamics: the fury (barely) contained in the bridge finds its corollary in the haunting introspection of the verses. “Gettin’ in Tune” also displays lead vocalist Roger Daltrey’s finely-honed skills in communicating vulnerability and braggadocio with equal authority; eschewing the fey tone he so often adopted in the Who’s early days, the lead singer had clearly come into his own as the foursome’s frontman during the near-eighteen months of touring behind the aforementioned rock opera.

In that regard too, the titular leader of the band had become an even more effective foil when he sang and the contrasts in personae between him and the actual founder of the group (as the Detours) eventually served as a gateway to the very next project for the band. Undaunted by the dissolution of the multi-media concept behind Lifehouse, Pete enacted further exploration of the piece as a solo artist over the years, but in the short term proceeded to another ambitious effort that became Quadrophenia; the 1973 release was met with less all-around acclamation than its predecessor, in part because of its provincial English setting–not to mention the absence of superlative material comparable to that on Who’s Next–but also because the Who only conducted comparatively abbreviated tours of England, France, and America featuring the bulk of the album was originally issued as a two-LP set.

The stature of this magnum opus has grown appreciably over time since then, despite that fact and the reality few of its numbers remain in regular rotation from the stage. In contrast, the major components of Who’s Next are linchpins of the latter-day repertoire, and rightly so: even today, five decades on, the album’s high points compare favorably to the most revered material of contemporary rockers including the Beatles, Bob Dylan, and The Rolling Stones. And the continuity remains within the framework of their surroundings on the record: other tunes of the time performed regularly around 1970-’71, like “Water” and “I Don’t Even Know Myself,” are simply not up to Townshend’s highest standards and, as such, were prudently omitted from the collection so revered as we know it.

The durability of Who’s Next lies in the exalting strength by which the group renders the superlative material. Accordingly, in the lengthy interim since the LP’s release, both its visceral and cerebral impact have remained unsullied (except to the precious few purists) by their author’s somewhat capricious (mercenary) surrender of some numbers for use as themes for television programs and commercials. In the end, it is hardly an accident there is no interrogatory punctuation at the end of this (somewhat tongue-in-cheek) album title: the Who answered fundamental questions about discipline, perseverance, and self-confidence with maturity even they might not have thought possible at that juncture of their career. Simultaneous to that accomplishment, the volatile unit crystallized a readily recognizable purity of sound and style the likes of which they share with precious few (if any) of their peers.