"Can you see the Real Me, can you! can you!"

Old traditions die hard. So too, it seems, interviewing techniques.

During that part of the 60's that allegedly swung like the proverbial dog's hind leg, along with enquiries concerning personal tastes in fast cars, fast food and fast women, an artist was invariably asked, how long could he envisage acting out his present role as a (successful) pop star?

The ripe old age of 30 being the absolute maximum suggested by most interviewees.

Almost 15 years on, can you believe that this very same lame-brain question is being dragged out of retirement by a dunderhead foreign newshound and put to Pete Townshend just five days before the guitarist celebrates his 34th birthday?

"I should say," replies Townshend faking a tortured frown, "that the very limit is 26!"

The journalist duly commits this invaluable revelation to paper.

It's four o'clock on a sun-drenched afternoon. The Who are mingling freely amidst the champagne and the cameras, the strawberries and the statements at an informal Euro-press party being hosted on the patio of the picturesque Villa Les Charmettes, on the outskirts of Cannes.

Acknowledged for never ever selling themselves less than on their own terms, the Who have swept away any speculation concerning their future by currently being the center of more action and attention than at any other juncture in their existence.

With two triumphant concerts staged beneath a Mediterranean moon in the ruins of the Roman amphitheatre at Frejus and a thumbs-up premier of The Kids Are Alright celluloid scrapbook in their hip pocket, the Who are passing the time of day with the press until eight o'clock when they will play their last trump cardthe first official screening of the truly remarkable movie account of the seminal Mod movement, Quadrophenia.

Townshend lights up a cigarette, surveys the beautiful French countryside and, as he exhales, remarks that it was just 20 miles from this location where he first conceived the synopsis for the Quadrophenia album.

At the time of inception, Townshend was apparently preoccupied with the lifestyle of that near-legendary Who charter fan, Irish Jack. "One of the original Mods," admits Townshend, "who I'd left behind and who, I'd discovered, was in pretty bad shape, and so I sat down and wrote about three days in his life."

Unfortunately, before Townshend has the opportunity to elaborate further, his reflective muse is interrupted as the gangbang cross-Oxamination begins. Attempting to supply everyone with suitable copy causes lapse in continuity, due to the fact that there are (recurring) instances when relevant lines of interrogation are usurped by irrelevance. Nevertheless, to his credit (and the amusement of the British, con tingent), Townshend fields the barrage of questions, promptly throwing them back into play with the degree of skill associated with Peter Shilton.

If you had the opportunity to re-live just one day in your life, which one would it be? Pete; "Dunno...but it would have to be a day when something very physical happened."

What is your favorite rock movie? Fete: "Stanley Kubrick's 2001."

What is the one question you're continually asked the most?

Pete: "(Sigh)...It's usually, a long time ago you wrote a song with the line, 'I hope I die before I grow old' and you didn't?...Well, I tell 'em, I'm still working on it!"

Roger Daltrey who, by his own admission, pushed the hardest and the longest to coax the Who back on the boards, underlines the band's determination to continue indefinitely, by joking, "When Pete dies, I'll immediately be around there with a shovel diggin' him up."

And, as with taxes, it's inevitable that the subject of death, not so much Townshend's, but that of Keith Moon, should be broached..

Taking into account that Townshend has often been quoted as saying (and he repeats the statement later in the day):

"The Who. have always made a special point of being insensitive to the feelings of the other members of the band, and I don't see why we should stop now," nobody avoids the question. However, it's obvious that it's a subject that the band doesn't wish to dwell on at length. If anything, they prefer to either adopt a lighthearted stance, says Townshend; even when he died, you have to admit that Moon still had a great sense of timing," or, as in the case of drummer Kenny Jones, use it as an excuse to discuss another aspect of the Who's career—the part to which he now contributes. Having established that Keith Moon is a hard act to follow, Jones clarifies his approach to playing in the band: "When I see the film, all that I wish is that Moon was still around doing it.

"Whereas, Keith had a more theatrical way of playing, I just give it to 'em right between the eyes and that's that."

Contrary to speculation, neither the Who nor Kenny Jones had to compromise themselves to establish a common ground on which to operate. As it transpires, Jones wasn't even requested to audition for the role. "If someone wants me to audition," he argues, "then they don't know what I play like and therefore don't - really want me in the first place."

Much of the Who's chemistry was a result of the interaction between guitar and drums, and it was an approach Jones had long been familiar with. "Unlike most drummers, I never play with just the bass, I play with everyone. I suppose that comes from playing with Steve Marriott in the Small Faces, who both sang and played at the same time. Whenever Steve felt like doing something spontaneous, I'd just accentuate it. And, the same thing happens with Pete."

"I'm stui working class because I give most of my money away. —Pete Townshend"

The introduction of Kenny Jones into the refurbished line-up has also had a positive effect on John Entwistle. "It goes without saying that Moon was about the hardest drummer in the world to play with—if you ever saw him sit in with another band you'll realize why! Keith was so unpredictable that I always had to watch out for when he went out of tempo and I didn't go along with him. With Kenny, I feel a lot freer. I've even got time to look at the audience and check out how we're going down!"

As it transpires, Roger Daltrey—who, it is rumored, took Moon's death much harder than anyone else—has yet to see a finished print of The Kids, stating that he has absolutely no intention of doing serfor at least ten years. "Just after Keith died," says Daitrey momentarily wiping the everpresent ear-to-ear grin from off nis face, "I found it difficult to look at the rushes, because it made me realize just how much we had lost. Amongst other things," he concludes, before becoming too morose, "he showed us all how to live...really!"

Back over to where Townshend is still holding court. Now either Pete doesn't detect the sarcasm in the tone of one particular foreign journalist or he chooses to treat it with the contempt it deserves, but (uncharacteristically), Townshend doesn't take umbrage or a swing when it's suggested that the Who are nothing more than "working class heroes playing at being rich?" /

There's a brief pause.

"I'm still working class," retorts Townshend adamantly; "because I give most of my money away. If you really want to know, at this very moment, I've got an overdraft of 250,000 pounds!

"The amount of money that passed through the Who's camp was phenomenal," he reveals, "but the amount of money one actually saw or controlled was quite small. Now, the great thing about the Who today, is that we control some of the larger amounts; and try and point them in the right direction." He cites plans for a microcosmic film-based recording studio, complete with the most sophisticated dubbing facilities, down at Shepperton as just one instance. "What I do with my share is to try and keep it involved in various ground-level creative projects.

"On the other hand," he informs, "what the Who are trying to do, is exist in England—which isn't easy at the moment, and take care of the responsibility to allow rock to mature and do it without crapping over everything. Now, if we can prove that we can do just that and still remain human beings at the other end of it, then I honestly believe that we've achieved one helluva lot.

"We've lost one of our members so far and it's a painful loss...something that we never ever thought would happen to us. We thought we would survive, but one cannot deny the fact that rock 'ri' roll has claimed so many young people." He momentarily ponders the implications. "Maybe the statistics would be the same if you ran a survey on any other stress-profession, but the fact remains, losing Keith was a terrible shock." w

If Townshend refused to be provoked by the previous line of questioning, he rises to the bait when asked if the British Government publically acknowledges—with a hypothetical pat on the head—the Who for staying put—refusing to take the money and run.

"The Inland Revenue acknowledges it all the time," he jests, but his flippant mood quickly turns to surpressed anger.

"I don't give a shit whether or not the fuckin' government acknowledges our presence in England. What the fuck do we need their acknowledgement for! What have they got to dq with us or, for that matter, people in general. C'mon, let's get our fuckin' priorities right for once. Bureaucrats," he snarls, "they're our servants... we acknowledge them...they're at our behest. We vote them in.

"As people in the rock business grow up," argues Townshend vehemently, "they should realize that for bloody years they've had everything inside out. Instead of growing up thinking that you're an outcast, you should grow up thinking that you're it... you're what the whole bloody thing is about and, at least, I'd like my generation to start adopting that attitude!"

"It's a shame that these kids who currently call themselves Mods can't find their own thing... —Roger Daitrey"

It might not be cue for song, but certainly for another provocative question.

"To be truthful," Townshend replies, when discussing the validity of still performing "My Generation," "it sounds totally ridiculous for us to still be playing it and I'd very much like to change the words."

Asked if he feels that he's cheating his audience by continually re-cycling the anthem of a previous generation's lifestyle, he barks, "Why should it be cheating the audience? If anything, it's ourselves, not them, because they still demand fo hear it."

The recent release of The Kids Are Alright biopic and Quadrophenia in early autumn will, unquestionably, fuel the emergent Mod revival and sh^pe the remainder of the year. Whether or not it will have any positive effect on the 80's or just go the way of Power Pop and half a dozen recent revivalist trends is open to speculation.

Having viewed an audience cross-section that attended the Who's recent Rainbow Theatre re birth, Townshend argued, in the bar afterwards, that perhaps Modrophenia was nothing more than a figment of Paul Weller's insatiable fan fixation/fantasy.

"It's got nothing at all to do with the Who," was his comment that evening, even though he himself has seen the hundreds of Who-logo stenciled parkas on parade and the Pop-Art bulls-eye t-shirts. "It's all to do with the Jam," he insisted, "it's Paul Weller's thing." (

Townshend has yet to reach a satisfactory conclusion on the topic, but it isn't causing him to lose any sleep. "Maybe," he suggests, "these kids think that life when the Who were 16 and 17 was better than life today. I'm only guessing...but it could be nothing more than just a bit of romantic nostalgia.

"It's; strange," he continues, "how a lot of fashions that immediately followed the British punk movement were backward looking. After the safety-pins and the slashed clothes, it went tb the point where, the last time I saw Johnny Rotten and one of the guys out of the Clash, they both looked like 50's rockers: black leather jackets, rocker shoes and Teds clothes. Could be that all the kids who don't fancy living with all of that prefer the old smart Mod outfits."

Though Quadrophenia doesn't always press home the fact that, in its purest form, mod—to quote the late Peter Meaden— was an aphorism for clean living under difficult circumstances, the fact remains in the light of present events, that the last thing Mods would have been involved in was anything that remotely smacked of revivalism.

Mods led, where others followed.

After having wagged an accusing finger for what he regards as a media overkill of the punk movement, Daitrey intimates that he ho$es the present wave of Modrophenia won't suffer as a direct result of press intervention. However, like Townshend, Daitrey is aware that the premise currently favored by the establishment is to neutralize/commercialize the unacceptable and, as can be ascertained from such things as the Lee Cooper punk-parody TV commercials, quickly absorb it into the general mainstream and render it harmless, chic and comical.

"Nevertheless," Daltrey argues, "it's a shame that these kids who currently call themselves Mods, can't find tfyeir own thing; at least that's one thing the punks had going for themselves. The good thing about the original 60's Mod movement," he continues, "is that not ohly didn't the media catch onto it when it first began, but that they didn't get around to exploiting it until it was almost over."

With fashions currently being rendered almost obsolete before they've been duplicated and stocked along the High Street and displayed in Vogue, the one thing that impresses anyone who sees The Kids Are Alright is that at any given juncture in their trend-setting career, the Who never appear backdated! Daltrey reckons that it was just a case of always keeping ,their feeton the ground. "Whatever we did," says he, "we did for real...we weren't pretending. No mafter what, we kept our credibility and that's the most important thing for any band."

Townshend sees it from a slightly different angle. "We never properly fitted the mood of the time. I know for sure, that when we were claiming to be Mods we were really just a little bit too old and not really quite right."

It's Townsnend's opinion that, when viewing both The Kids Are Alright and Quadrophenia, it's as if he were flicking through an old family snapshot album and evoking nostalgic memories. As to whether he felt that his involvement with these projects placed him in the role of the ultimate Who fan—obsessed with the band's history to^the extent, taking into account the circumstances of the time, he could have been preparing a grandiose epitaph—he replies in the affirmative.

"We didn't think about that early in the day; that problem only crossed our minds as the films actually came to fruition and, took on some semblance, of form, and that's one of the reasons why we all felt that we had to perform again...particularly when Mooney died, that was the last straw. We agreed that we must continue to play, otherwise we'd continually be drawing on that same thing, going through the same old box of tapes trying to pull something else from it..."

"When Pete dies, IV immediately be around there with a shovel diggln'hlm up. -Roger Daltrey"

Entwistle seconds that emotion. "If the Who hadn't played again, it would no longer exist. As far as I'm concerned, playing on stage is much more important than making records—whicl) can be boring and unrewarding. You get more out of just one houron stage than a dozen ih the studio."

Director Franc Roddam mayjhave possessed sufficient references to undertake the Quadrophenia project, but what did director Jeff Stein offer in the way of credentials to persuade the Who to allow him to correlate their celluloid backpages?

"Absolutely nothing whatsoever," claims Townshend, "other than he was a great Who fan!"

So the story goes, when Stein first approached Townshend and the Who's manager (Bill Curbishley) and asked whether he could make the movie, he sat and cried for two hours when the proposal was rejected. "I said to Bill," recollects Townshend, "anyone who cries for two hours can never make a film about the Who. But Bill said, think about it the other way..." Stein got his wish. Townshend may claim the images available were limited. "What would have been amazing," he says, "was if we'd halve been filmed like every other day or week, so you could compare when we were up and when we were down." Nevertheless, unlike any previous movie made about an internationally famous rock band, the Who are unique in having access to a backlog of seminal film stock that dates right back to their period as The High Numbers at The Railway Tavern, Harrow and Wealdstone. Even that early in the game, they showed style and purpose. There's one moment in The Kids Are Alright when Townshend stares into the lens and insists, "I may be an old fart, but I'm certainly not boring!" So he can be unpredictable. Conceived as a replacement for Tommy, the Quadrophenia magnum opus was subsequently dropped from the Who's repertoire after just one introductory tour. Says Townshend, "Unfortunately, it didn't work because, amongst other things, the Who have set themselves strange standards on stage." The situation was further aggravated by a violent disagreement between Roger and Pete and the entire project was shelved until now because it had become a touchy subject. Re-worked, excerpts from Quadrophenia now constitute an integral part of the Who's refurbished repertoire.

Without wishing to re-open old wounds, on one much-publicized occasion, when Townshend was going through an intense period of self-re-evaluation, he. informed this writer that he felt that he was too old to be running around the stage like a kid playing guitar. Thankfully, since those dark days, Townshend has altered his opinions. "Sometimes, during the depths of a really bad day I really would like to crawl off and die, but I realize that there's something very magical about being on stage and part of a band that's working together. It's very fulfilling," he insists, "because it's always been kinda dangerous and risky and that's what rock has always thrived on—risk."

Still excited by the events of the last three years, Townshend opines that it's important for bands like the Who to share the experience. "Not in a patronizing way," he points out, "because new bands hate to hear you say, 'Watch put for this or that, because we've been through it.' But nevertheless, I feel that having existed for 30 years, rock should have itsGodfathers." However, Towhshend doesn't wish such remarks to be misconstrued as a complacent attitude, or that the Who are feeding off their past glories

"To some extent," he confesses, "even though the Who are established, very solid, the older they get the more dangerous it becomes for them to claim that they're a rock band. So, in a sense, it's gone full circle to where we're again finding it quite exciting and quite dangerous just hanging on. The thing is," he concludes* "I no longer give a shit about whether or not anyone likes what we're doing or not. I just do what I do to the best of my ability and leave it at that. Rock's not meant to;be analyzed, it should make you completely forget anything else—the time when it really works is when the band, the audience, the road crew, everybody is completely lost, and that's how I've been on these last few gigs!"

Know how you feel, guv'nor!

Reprint courtesy New Musical Express