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  • Title: Quadrophenia.net
    Descriptive info: Navigate Here!.. The Album.. The Story.. The Film.. 1973 Tour.. 1974 Tour.. 1996 Tour.. 1997 Tour.. The Mod Club.. Scooters.. Travel.. Mod Fashions.. Whats New?.. Walking Tour.. The Goldhawk.. Irish Jack.. Radio Special.. Hyde Park..

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  • Title: Quadrophenia.net
    Descriptive info: Welcome to Quadrophenia.. net a resource guide to The Who's album Quadrophenia written by Pete Townshend.. This site also serves as a guide to the film and many other aspects of the Mod era, The Who's tours that supported the album and much more.. This web site has not been updated in some years so please excuse any outdated pages, we do hope to bring this site back up to date in the future.. Initially this site took over a year to develop, it is the culmination of a tremendous amount of work not only by myself but others who took their time and effort to make this the ultimate resource to Pete Townshend's underated masterpiece of perfection - Quadrophenia.. Introduction by Brian Cady.. I was sixteen and had been a Who fan for about a year when the Quadrophenia album came out.. It seemed huge, gray and heavy with its two records and black-and-white photo album.. Remember this was when rock music was all bright colors and glitter.. Ziggy Stardust was still Lord of Britain even after his recent abdication and in the States it was Alice Cooper and his Billion Dollar Babies.. So this bleak cover stood out in that day-glo era.. This was not just another rock record.. Every page of the booklet seemed an affront to pop showmanship.. Who spends all this money to make a booklet of pictures of a kid hauling trash and a plate of half-eaten eggs? If the booklet was harsh and spare, the music was something else entirely.. No Tommy thinness here.. This was rich, layered rock both in sound and words.. Plot songs were gone as The Who dove headlong into the mind of this angry, hurting teen.. At the time The Who were rightly concerned about whether Americans would understand the subtext.. I was given a  ...   a work made for them.. No pop-silliness to while away the time, no empty-headed power chords to get drunk to.. These were songs that cut to the core of what you were.. Songs like "The Real Me" and "Dr.. Jimmy" understood how deep the pain went and how dangerous you could get if the pressure didn't let up soon.. And at the end there was a way out.. A hope for your future.. Maybe you could grow up and be a wiser person.. It took time for everyone to realize what this work meant, even The Who.. Designed to replace Tommy on stage, it turned out too technically challenging for The Who to perform live.. Even if the backing tapes worked, they were locked into playing the songs the same way every night, killing any chance of letting the songs grow into new meanings as Tommy's had.. AndPete and Roger were so concerned that the audience might not understand every little nuance of Mod culture that Quadrophenia turned into half rock show/half lecture.. Bootlegs of those live shows disguise the fact that Pete and Roger's explanations were rarely understandable beyond the first few rows.. Up in the cavernous regions of the arenas The Who now had to play, kids would pass joints while someone in the band droned on unintelligibly.. Why don't they just shut up and play?.. After that disaster, The Who abandoned Quadrophenia for years.. Written off as a failure and disliked by the old Who fans who bombarded Pete with their opinions, Quadrophenia seemed best forgotten.. But underneath it all word spread.. And that familiar gray cover popped up in many a teenager's bedroom, played over and over at top volume, making a sonic wall between the listener and the world that didn't understand.. Didn't understand except for this one rock band from England..

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  • Title: Quadrophenia-The Album
    Descriptive info: Quadrophenia - The Album.. Quadrophenia Essay and Introduction by Ed Hanel.. Liner Notes By Brian Cady.. Album Liner Notes.. Recording Information.. Discography.. Lyrics.. Introduction to the Album & Story Line.. Your thoughts on the album?.. Performers.. John Curle : Voices.. Roger Daltrey : Vocals.. John Entwistle : Bass, Horn, Vocals.. Keith Moon : Percussion, Vocals.. Ron Nevison : Sound Effects.. Chris Stanton : Piano.. Pete Townshend : Multi Instruments, Sound Effects.. Production Credits.. Jon Astley : Reissue Producer, Reissue Remixing.. Richard Evans : Art Direction, Design.. Ron Fawcus : Assistant Engineer, Mixing.. Graham Hughes : Design, Photography.. Glyn Johns : Associate Producer, Engineer.. George Jones : Mastering.. Pete Kameron : Executive Producer.. Kit Lambert : Executive Producer, Pre-Production.. Bob Ludwig : Reissue Remastering.. Andy MacPherson : Reissue Remixing.. Ron Nevison : Engineer.. Bobby Pridden : Mixing.. Ethan Russell : Art Direction.. Chris Stamp : Executive Producer.. Pete Townshend : Composer.. The Who : Main Performer, Producer.. Back to top.. Liner notes by Brian Cady.. John Entwistle Bass, Horns, Vocals Roger Daltrey Lead Vocals Keith Moon Percussion, vocals Pete Townshend Remainder [except where noted below].. Front cover photography and design by Graham Hughes from an idea by Roger Daltrey Inside and back cover photography, book photography and art direction by Ethan A.. Russell.. Conceived by Pete Townshend and Ethan A.. Mod kid played by Chad [Terry Kennett].. Hair by Dallas Amos.. All tracks written by Pete Townshend and published by Fabulous Music, Ltd.. Produced by The Who [except where noted below] Pre-production (with Pete Townshend): Kit Lambert Engineer: Ron Nevison Mixing continuity and engineering assistance: Ron Fawcus Studio earphone mix: Bobby Pridden (Special effects recorded by Rod Houison, Ron Nevison and Pete Townshend).. Recorded at "The Kitchen" in Thessally Road, Battersea [except where noted], while building was still in progress.. Ronnie "Lane's Mobile Sound" served as control room while ours was being finished.. Mixed at Eel Pie Sound [a/k/a Pete's Garage in Twickenham].. Quadrophenia was originally released in the U.. K.. as Track 2657 013 on October 26, 1973.. However, it appears that due to a vinyl shortage caused by the OPEC oil embargo, only a limited number of copies got to stores before production had to be halted.. Most British Who fans failed to find a copy until after The Who's U.. tour.. In the U.. , Quadrophenia reached the #2 position being held out of the top spot by David Bowie's Pinups.. S.. Quadrophenia was MCA2 10004 released on November 3, 1973.. It reached #2 in the Billboard charts being beaten out of first place by Elton John's Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.. Quadrophenia began shortly after the May 1972 session to attempt to create a follow-up to Who's Next.. Pete originally intended a mini-opera about the members of The Who called "Rock Is Dead - Long Live Rock.. " Ultimately his attention went more to a central character like Tommy, here called Jimmy, who would be a Who fan of the Mod era but would also embody The Who.. Townshend had played with this idea before; at one point in Tommy's genesis, Pete planned to have parts of Tommy's personality represented by The Who.. Another part of the form of Quadrophenia came from the failure to film Lifehouse.. Instead of creating a filmscript that would probably never be made, Pete planned Quadrophenia as an album that would be the soundtrack to a never-made film with both music and sound effects and a photo album to supply the images.. Pete said that during the mix he had 16-track tapes piled up to the ceiling.. Roger also estimated that Quadrophenia was reduced from 15 hours of recorded music.. Pete said he wrote "about fifty songs for this and creamed off the best" and that Quadrophenia could have been a quadruple album.. What those other songs were is unknown but a few of them turned up on the Quadrophenia Soundtrack.. Pete Townshend: "The whole conception of Quadrophenia was geared to quadraphonic, but in a creative sort of way.. I mean I wanted themes to sort of emerge from corners.. So you start to get the sense of the fourness being literally speaker for speaker.. And also in the rock parts the musical thing would sort of jell together up to the thunder clap, then everything would turn slowly from quad into mono and you'd have this solid sort of rock mono.. then a thunder clap and back out again.. We spent months mixing it and then found out that MCA was using the CBS quad system and.. you might as well forget it.. So our engineer remixed it in the same manner that it was mixed in stereo, the same sort of creative approach.. " How successful he was with that mix is still a matter of contention among Who fans.. Is it a good mix, a bad mix or a technically flawed mix? In any case the rest of The Who hated the mix, particularly Roger, and their reaction was the first of several disappointments for Pete stemming from Quadrophenia.. John remixed the album for the 1979 film but Roger thought it was worse than the original.. Pete and Roger were both involved in the 1996 remix.. Their pleasure at the results was one of the primary reasons for the 1996-97 Quadrophenia tour.. I Am The Sea.. (2'08) Pete Townshend: "Our story is set on a rock in the middle of a stormy sea.. " And where did the cat come from? In live performance, this was presented totally on tape in quadraphonic sound coming from all sides of the arena.. The Real Me.. (3'22) Pete Townshend: "Gets everything going with a quick look in at the psychiatrists, at home and even a quick visit to the local vicar.. Mental security is unfortunately not obtained.. " The demo version has the additional lines, "Rock & Roll's going do me in; do me an evil wrong.. Funny how your best friends turn out; it was good for oh so long.. I stop myself getting letters  ...   Pete Townshend: "His train journey down to Brighton, sandwiched between two city gents is notable for the rather absurd number of purple hearts he consumes in order to wile away the time.. He goes through a not entirely pleasant series of ups and downs as he thinks about the gaudier side of life as a teenager that we see in newspapers like the News Of The World.. '5:15' was written in Oxford Street and Carnaby Street while I was killing time between appointments.. I must try it again sometime, it seems to work!" Unlike most everything else on the album, Pete did not make a demo of this.. The music was written in the studio on the day of recording.. On September 28, 1973 it was released as a single in the U.. prior to the album's release.. It went to #20.. It was also released as a single throughout the world with the exception of the U.. The Quadrophenia Soundtrack remix was issued as a single everywhere in September 1979.. It did not chart in Britain but reached #45 in the U.. Billboard charts and #53 in Cash Box.. The b-side was the remixed version of "I'm One.. " Live versions can be found on Join Together, the 30 Years Of Maximum R&B video and The Blues To The Bush.. Sea And Sand.. (5'01) Pete Townshend: "Arriving at Brighton, Jimmy brightens up a bit.. get the pun? He talks about rows at home and is a little sarcastic as he recalls the evening on the beach with his former girlfriend.. This is 1965 and the Mod scene is already falling apart - and what does he do but go to Brighton just to remember.. The crazy days when 300,000 Mod kids from London descended on that little beach town were only three weeks ago, but he's already living in the past.. " The ending quotes from The High Numbers' single "I'm The Face.. Drowned.. (5'28) Piano by Chris Stainton Pete Townshend: "This song, included in Quadrophenia, should actually stand alone.. I think in a sense it does.. When the tragic hero of Q sings it, it is desperate and nihilistic.. In fact, it's a love song, God's love being the ocean and our 'selves' being the drops of water that make it up.. Meher Baba said, 'I am the Ocean of Love.. ' I want to drown in that ocean, the 'drop' will then be an ocean itself.. Anyway a tale - when recording this song it rained so hard in Battersea where our studio is that the walls were flowing with sheets of water.. Chris Stainton played piano in a booth and when the take was finished he opened the door and about 500 gallons gushed out! Another glorious coincidence.. The take on the album is the one.. " The most often performed song from Quadrophenia during The Who's live shows probably because it gave the band room to improvise.. In the 1996-97 edition it was performed solo by Pete on acoustic guitar.. Live versions can be found on the Who Rocks America video and the 30 Years Of Maximum R&B video.. Bell Boy (Keith's Theme).. (4'56) Recorded June 1, 1973.. Pete Townshend: "He meets an old Ace Face who's now a bellhop at the very hotel the Mods tore up.. And he looks on Jimmy with a mixture of pity and contempt, really, and tells him, in effect, 'Look, my job is shit and my life is a tragedy.. But you - look at you, you're dead!'" A live version with Keith can be found on the 30 Years Of Maximum R&B video.. Dr.. Jimmy.. (including "Is It Me?" - John's Theme) (8'42) Pete Townshend: "'Dr.. Jimmy' was meant to be a song which somehow gets across the explosive, abandoned wildness side of his character.. Like a bull run amok in a china shop.. He's damaging himself so badly that he can get to the point where he's so desperate that he'll take a closer look at himself.. The part where he says, 'What is it, I'll take it.. Who is she, I'll rape it.. ' That's really the way I see Keith Moon in his most bravado sort of states of mind.. " A live version can be found on Who's Last.. The Rock.. (6'37) Pete Townshend: "It's getting in a boat, going out to sea and sitting on a rock waiting for the waves to knock him off that makes him review himself.. He ends up with the sum total of frustrated toughness, romanticism, religion, daredevil - desperation, but a starting point for anybody.. Love Reign O'er Me (Pete's Theme).. (5'48) Produced by The Who and associate producer Glyn Johns.. Recorded May 1972 at Olympic Studios, London with additional tracks recorded at The Kitchen June 8, 1973.. Pete Townshend: "'Love Reign O'er Me' is similar to 'Drowned' in meaning.. This refers to Meher Baba's one time comment that rain was a blessing from God; that thunder was God's Voice.. It's another plea to drown, only this time in the rain.. Jimmy goes through a suicide crisis.. He surrenders to the inevitable, and you know, you know, when it's over and he goes back to town he'll be going through the same shit, being in the same terrible family situation and so on, but he's moved up a level.. He's weak still, but there's a strength in that weakness.. He's in danger of maturing.. " It was released as a single in the U.. October 27, 1973 where it peaked at #76 in the Billboard charts and #54 in Cash Box.. It was edited down to 3'11 with a different ending.. The b-side was "Water.. " It was also released as a single in Belgium and the Netherlands where the b-side was "Is It In My Head.. " Live versions can be found on Who's Last, the Who Rocks America video, Join Together, The Who/Live featuring the rock opera Tommy video and the 30 Years Of Maximum R&B video..

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  • Title: Quadrophenia - The Story
    Descriptive info: Quadrophenia-The Story.. Introduction to the Album and Story Line by Marc Leaman.. Quadrophenia Dialogue.. Quadrophenia The Story by Alan Fletcher.. Add your thoughts about what the story means to you.. The Who - Quadrophenia The Prologue.. By Alan Fletcher.. Compiled and transcribed by Brian Cady.. Prologue.. In the dark room, as narrow as a railway carriage, sudden spotlights illuminated the stage.. Amplifiers, a web of wires to carry the live currents, the silver edges of the drums gleaming bright, hi-hat and snare.. They're almost here, he thought, almost here.. Feverish, feeling the amphetamine racing in his blood.. High and free, more pills in his pocket, thick smoke in the light, the hum and drone of the amplifiers.. Nearly here.. People wedged him in, packing closer, tighter, not restless but waiting, anticipating, willing the first harsh chord and the violence of the moment, cut out of time.. The moment in the rose garden.. Waiting, keenly watching, almost nervously, their faces tensed.. Pills going down, feeding them up, and the first shouts, louder now, speeding them towards release.. The waxing voices.. Hemmed in and pushed closer, edging towards the empty stage, his head screaming now, now, now, now, his eyes dazzled, blinded by the brilliant lights.. Back there now, somewhere out of sight, dressed and ready, fingering strings.. Any moment he thought.. Any time.. They're nearly here.. Across the room, head and shoulders above the rest, blonde hair swept back, he saw the Face, patiently waiting, not seeking his audience now but part of it, part of the sea of faces and sharing the vision, unselfconsciously eager.. The crowd shuffled forward, gaining inches, someone leaping, breaking clear for a second, dropping back out of sight, like the failing salmon at the waterfall.. He felt the dampness under his arms, sweat on his face, rivulets coursing down his hot cheeks and dripping, dripping from his chin.. His arms were pinned and he couldn't free them to wipe away the wet smears, but the discomfort quickly passed.. It didn't matter.. His lips formed the words, rehearsing the moment:.. "I can go anyway.. way I choose".. Daltrey leaning back, rocking back, arm raised, the microphone lead snaking through his fingers.. Crashing forward I can live anyhow win or lose.. Dancing.. "I can go anywhere.. for something new ANYWAY, ANYHOW ANYWHERE I CHOOSE".. Cajoling, threatening, teasing, knowing.. "WHY DON'T YOU ALL F-F-F-FA-FA-FA-FADF, A-A-A-AWAY".. Moments of vision.. Almost here.. Townshend, Daltrey, Entwistle, Moon.. The shape of ascending, spiraling sound, the windmilling, descending arms, the wild, free relentless drumming.. Drunk with the music.. Waiting, waiting, now, now, now, now.. NOW.. And then, at its climax, the guitar smashed and pulped and splintered against the boards, the electric scream of its dying, breaking open the amplifier, the loudest wound.. The crush and chaos and then the screech and whistle of feed back, bleeding through the system endlessly.. "ANYWAY, ANYHOW ANYWHERE".. Yes.. "NOTHING GETS IN MY WAY".. Yes, now.. "NOT EVEN LOCKED DOORS".. Listen.. "ANYWAY, ANYHOW ANYWHERE I CHOOSE".. The high harsh whistle of noise.. Moon ripping, tearing, hacking, puncturing the tight skins.. Tearing down the defences, letting in the sea.. Anyway and anyhow.. Nothing matters.. Nothing beyond this room.. Nothing out there in the night.. Nothing, nothing, nothing.. He felt the tightness in his throat.. His limbs ached.. They pushed him closer and nearer to the dream.. It was time.. They were here.. Look at us, he thought.. Look at us.. We're out in the light.. ".. P-people t-try to p-p-p-put us d-own.. Talking bout my generation.. J-ju-just b-because we g-g-get around.. Things they do I-look a-awawf-ful o-c-cold.. H-hope hope I d-die before I g-ge-get old".. "This is m-my-my generation.. My generation baby".. "Why don't you all f-f-f-f-fade away.. Don't t-try and d-d-dd-dig what we all s-ss-say.. Not t-t-try-ying to c-c-ca-cause a big sensa-shun.. Talking bout my generation".. "J-j-just t-t-talk-in bout m-my gene-ra-ra-shun".. "My generation".. "This is my generation".. Chapter One.. OUT IN THE LIGHT.. "but I know sometimes I must get out in the light better leave her behind where the kids are alright The Kids Are Alright".. AUGUST 1964.. Jimmy Cooper lived in Shepherd's Bush, West London, barely a mile from the Goldhawk Social Club.. He had left school and worked in the post room in an Advertising Agency in the West End.. Like most of his contemporaries he earned decent money for his age - seventeen - and spent this, according to a strict hierarchy of necessity and choice, on a variety of things.. His mother took board from him at two pounds a week.. Then the rest of his £15 wages went on clothes, dancing, records, magazines and pills.. Not aspirins or Victory Vs but pep pills: leapers, french blues, purple hearts and black bombers.. Amphetamine, or Benzedrine, the stuff that dreams are made of.. He also paid religiously the regular weekly installments on a hire purchase account.. It was for a motor scooter, a Vespa, Gran Sportique.. A G.. The scooter had five spotlights, four mirrors, front and back racks, trimmed with fur, and chrome side panels.. It had cost him half-a-crown a square inch to have them done but, looking at the burnished metal and the beauty of it, the expense seemed worthwhile.. So did the money he'd lavished on appropriate clothing, like an authentic US Army Parka with fur-trimmed hood.. The two went together and made him visible to the street.. It was impossible not to notice what they meant and signified.. Jimmy Cooper was a mod.. In 1964 the mods were an important, and very visible social force in English, and not just London life.. Subsequently, for the most part, ignored or dismissed by cultural historians (perhaps because they lacked an explicit political programme, perhaps because, like most self-confessed movements in the sixties they enjoyed only a relatively brief life), they were nevertheless of extraordinary significance in their own right, and as catalysts of further change.. The movement, with its dedication to fashion, music and pills, was the first massive, manifestation of youth culture, and formed the advance guard of the first truly post-war generation in England.. Originating at street level, and always retaining their roots in the predominantly working-class environment, the mods displayed more than a taste for sharp clothes and American music, even though it was their appearance (and numbers) which seemed most directly to threaten existing social ideas and values.. Their real importance lay in the phenomenal success with which they created and communicated an alternative, and in many ways subversive, culture in the midst of an increasingly affluent society.. Despite the fact that they lacked a political programme, the mods revolutionized a generation by making it conscious of itself.. For all that, the mods were never an 'underground' movement, a secret society.. They deliberately and very successfully advertised their presence on the streets.. This visibility stemmed directly from their wide-ranging and essential commitment to style - styles of cool, elegant clothing, styles of talking and dancing, styles of music.. Their musical tastes, increasingly esoteric, ranged from black soul music, old blues numbers adopted and adapted by emerging British groups like the Rolling Stones, the Who (earlier the High Numbers) and the Small Faces, rhythm-and-blues, and the kind of rock 'n' roll that showed itself open to such influences.. Emotive and expressive, developing, mutating, (but very definitely the shape of things to come), with its deepest roots in an alien American culture, the music embodied new attitudes and alternatives.. Moreover, in its language and mood, it seemed closer to the street, to actual and everyday experience, rejecting the romanticism and escapism of the fifties, and the notion that music simply existed as a form of entertainment.. Like fashion, music composed a crucial and defining element of the mod experience.. The music of the Who and other British groups like the Small Faces, the real mod groups, reflected that experience, both lyrically (with songs like 'Can't Explain' and 'My Generation') and in performance, where improvisation, fashion and violence consorted on stage.. The Who's celebrated habit of breaking their instruments on stage, a practice which originated by accident, was also an appropriate mod gesture since it registered the sense of frustration, outrage and anger (a frustration at the inadequacies of street vocabulary, or even of language itself, in 'Can't Explain'), and turned it into action, violence and performance, reflecting again what was happening outside.. Clothes of course were central to mod culture, in the same way as pills, scooters and music.. An early commentator on the movement, John Kreidl, defined mod as: 'a style of clothes - flash and plastic - a little hard, not soft, not natural.. Mod comes from the English word Modernist.. It means someone who has taken the uniform from technology and the elegance from the uniform and reacted to modern times this way.. It is a cool aesthetic; a sun-glass aesthetic.. ' The mods were enormously self-conscious about what they wore and how they wore it, about the length of jacket-vents and acceptable materials, about colour (white was a favourite) and shape.. Jackets were worn with only the top button fastened and hands (except for the thumbs) thrust into the pockets.. The thumbs stayed outside the flaps, pointing down towards the catch.. Wide lapels had button-holes, slim lapels didn't, and the material might be either eighteen-ounce striped worsted or eleven-ounce Mohair, Perhaps with coloured linings treated for anti-static.. A mod could tell whether a suit was bespoke or Burtons by feeling under the lapels.. If he felt the sewn up ridge of a full collar it was bespoke and koshe.. Above all, the clothes had to be neat and well-tailored, just as hairstyles had to be short and well-cut.. Even so, there was never a single style.. The 'look' changed, often within weeks, and often at the instigation of a 'Face', a self-appointed leader who deliberately re-fashioned the image, hatching new ideas from the material to hand.. Commercial interests rarely dictated the fashions, though the Saturday squares and the back pages of the music papers often reflected the changes from bell-bottoms to parallels, training shoes to cuban heels.. A number of magazines emerged directly catering for the mod market.. The media at last couldn't afford to ignore what was happening in the streets.. But the mods claimed its attention in other, more dramatic and sensational ways.. The rivalry between the mods and the rockers - an English version of the American Hell's Angels - frequently expressed itself in confrontation and violence, the two sides coming together as if by agreement particularly around the south-east resorts.. The violence displayed an element of ritual as important as the symbolic clothing, the scooters and the motor bikes, beyond the comprehension of the newspapers.. The reports from Margate and Hastings, the scenes of many pitched battles between large gangs of mods and rockers, were typical of the incomprehension, unease and moral indignation felt by the establishment.. It's worth quoting a selection (from The Times) in order to remember how it was, in the summer of 1964:.. RESTAURANT MANAGERESS HURT IN FIGHT MARGATE,.. MAY 18.. There was further trouble here today.. Gangs of youths and girls catcalled and threatened each other on the beach after a stabbing incident in the afternoon, and one group later roamed through the town attacking and threatening those thought to belong to rival gangs, and in some cases passers-by.. Young people poured into the town throughout the day by motor cycle, scooter and train.. The local police reinforced from other Kent forces, moved groups of young people along and attempted to prevent a clash.. To a great extent they succeeded.. The first incident occurred early in the morning at Margate railway station.. Margate police said windows in the buffet were broken by young people and a fight followed.. Mrs.. Stott, manageress of the buffet, and Mrs.. E.. Green a cleaner who went to her assistance, were slightly injured.. Stott said: 'The boy who started it was so good looking and nicely dressed; you wouldn't have thought he was a nasty type.. '.. MARCH TO COURT.. Around midday magistrates were dealing with charges arising from yesterday's disturbances.. A crowd of 200 'Mods' marched to the Town Hall, where the court was sitting, chanting 'Come out you "Rockers"'.. A police inspector and three other officers met them and the inspector called: 'Break them up'.. As the police advanced, the 'Mods' scattered.. Early this afternoon two youths, John Stewart, aged 17, and Michael Fenton, aged 18, were treated at Margate General Hospital after a stabbing incident.. Both were discharged.. An hour later there was a fight halving several youths on the beach.. One of them emerged with four wounds on his back and leg, apparently inflicted by a razor or small knife.. He described his opponents as 'Mody'.. Ten police officers immediately attempted to clear young people from the surrounding beach.. Before they could do so a group of about 50 'Rockers', nearly all wearing black leather jackets, moved from the promenade to the sands.. The police prevented a clash and the group moved off along the beach and regained the promenade.. The 'Rockers' were followed by a crowd of several hundred young people who taunted them with shouts of 'coward' and clapped rhythmically.. Police formed a barrier along the promenade as the 'Rockers' recrossed it, to prevent the crowd following.. The 'Rockers' then wandered through the town for several hours: one of them struck a passing car driver, and they forced a scooter rider off his machine in a car park next to the 'Dreamland' amusement park, where incidents occurred yesterday.. The scooter rider received cuts and bruises from his fall.. The 'Rockers' also ransacked a stationary scooter without injuring the owner.. In another incident in the car park a youth punched another scooter owner who had appealed successfully for the return of his crash helmet.. The blow was delivered from behind on the back of the neck.. Four people were arrested by police during the disturbances.. Two of them will appear in court tomorrow.. The others, being under 17, will come before a juvenile court later.. In conversation, the 'Rockers', many of whom said they lived in Margate, claimed they were defending the town against an alien invasion of 'Mods'.. The 'Mods', who came largely from London and towns in Kent, said they had come to enjoy themselves at the seaside.. SPECIAL SQUAD ENDS FIGHTING BOURNEMOUTH, MAY 18.. Between 40 and 50 youths were taken to police headquarters here today after a fight on the town's West Undercliff.. Three went to hospital, but none was seriously hurt.. All were local youths.. No weapons were used.. A preliminary police statement said: 'It is anticipated that charges will be preferred against some of the youths.. Identification parades are being held.. ' The fight was ended by a special squad of 30 police who had been held in reserve in case of trouble.. BENCH SITS TWICE.. Brighton Magistrates held two special sittings yesterday to deal with charges arising from incidents in the town over Whitsun.. During the first sitting of the Bench yesterday morning the police were so busy controlling gangs in the resort that they had to ask for several remands.. At Margate Dr.. George Simpson, chairman of the magistrates referred to 'long-haired, mentally unstable petty little Sawdust Caesars' when about 50 youths and young men appeared before the Court.. ARRESTS REACH 70 AFTER HASTINGS CLASHES.. POLICE MARCH GANGS OUT TO TOWN BOUNDARIES.. After disturbances yesterday, police made a further 53 arrests at Hastings, bringing the total for the weekend to 70.. Fifteen more arrests were made at Great Yarmouth.. HASTINGS, August 3.. Police here went on the offensive this evening to clear the town and seafront of the hordes of youths who had spent the weekend fighting and terrorizing holidaymakers.. Using completely new tactics, they herded the Mods, Rockers and their followers into groups of 75 to 500 and marched them three miles to the borough boundaries.. Most of the groups departed readily, as they have become so used to marching sheepishly behind their leaders that few realized what was happening until they were well on the way to Rye.. Youths attempting to get back into town by public transport were taken off the buses and were allowed back in small groups and on foot.. The seafront was clear tonight for the first time for 72 hours, for most of those 'accompanied' out of town by the police chose not to return.. Local residents, delighted at this new development, brought glasses of lemonade  ...   was strange how even old dears with piss-all to do would come and spend their Sunday's here, sitting in bloody shingle and watching the sea.. Weird how the sea meant something to everyone.. I left the railings and wandered along the concrete promenade again, checking the loose five bob in my Parka pocket, and feeling the cold wind.. I still had some gin left, thank god, 'cos I was going to need it.. The Parka felt like it was sticking to my back it was so wet.. Even so, I couldn't understand why I felt so fucking miserable, except I was tired and I didn't know what to do or where to go.. In fact there was nothing to feel happy about except the sea.. And you can't live in the sea.. Music was coming out of one of the record shops in the town: 'Heat Wave' by the Vandelles.. I stopped outside and listened.. Then 'Mickey's Monkey' by the Miracles.. Mod music, but it didn't mean the same now, I felt a bit cheated with it all, now I was outside it.. I was tired of moving with the fashions, trying to keep up, like struggling under water.. I just felt tired somewhere inside, as if my guts had turned to slime.. Perhaps it was the gin and the pills.. but it wasn't really.. It was another feeling, like waiting to be solid again and firm where the slime was inside, where the junk was.. I couldn't seem to hold on to myself now, even when things were bad outside.. I'd got my freedom.. I didn't belong to anyone now, not my parents or Fulford, or even Steph.. But now I was free, I didn't even seem to belong in the world any more.. Soon I'd be like the tramp, a bit of junk on waste ground.. I was frightened by that.. I walked back towards the promenade and crossed the road again by the Grand Hotel.. Then I saw the scooter and my heart started to pound.. Oh let me go back to the ocean.. Oh let me go back to the sea.. A wave crashed on to the beach with remarkable force.. A fine mist of spray reached the promenade and the sound of stones clattering evenly down with the receding surf made a sound like sheet metal.. it distracted him for a second, the silver-glinting sea, touched in pastel pinks and blues, but his gaze returned to the scooter with reverence and awe.. Not a detail out of place, brilliantly gleaming and fully decorated, it stood against the old-fashioned wrought iron railings of the Grand Hotel, machine and symbol, in grace.. His eyes shone as he walked towards it, wanting to touch and know it, to understand its power.. And as he walked he realized too that it belonged to the one he revered above all others: the Ace, Gerry Stanley.. Its burnished chrome reflected his glory, and he remembered.. He ran his fingers gently over the fly screen, over the lamps and mirrors pointing out from the front rack and grasped the controls tightly in his hand.. The movement, the feel of the steel-cold ironmongery of the bike, seemed to jolt his arm, like a mild electric shock; he couldn't release it.. The noise of a taxi puffing up at the kerb with its tyres crunching on the grit in the gutter made him look up, as a man in grey uniform moved swiftly down the Hotel steps towards it.. The Bell Boy collected the bags and suitcases from the taxi's boot and began to walk back up the stairs, preceded by the customer in his dark, city suit.. Jimmy watched the performance, the whole pantomime of subservience, with disgust, glad again that he no longer served or carried.. The Bell Boy glanced back with an ingratiating smile and Jimmy recognized him, feeling the nausea swell inside.. The Bell Boy and the Hero, they were one and the same.. The Ace and the Bell Boy.. His body buckling slightly, stooping, under the weight of the bags he was carrying, smiling to please.. There were no more heroes, they were lost in uniform.. walking, climbing towards the glass doors, the ones he'd smashed and broken, the glass like confetti over the pavement.. Jimmy saw, in the back of his minds the gun butt rap upon the door.. He watched them enter the foyer, angry, ashamed and betrayed.. Ashamed for the Bell Boy, the pity of it hurting his throat, emptying him again.. He ran up to the doors, the sunlight glancing off the glass panels as they revolved slowly, reflecting him in each.. He stared through into the high room, saw the sweep of the staircase and the marble floor, the greenery of palm plants, and the Bell Boy drop a suitcase in front of the doorman.. The glass magnified the blue figure, ridiculously dressed, and the image filled the screen.. 'Bell Boy! Bell Boy! Bell Boy! Bell Boy!'.. "Bell Boy Bell Boy Bell Boy BellBoy.. Bell Boy Bell Boy Bell Boy.. Bell Boy".. The sharp words screamed out and echoed somewhere, distantly.. Savage and mocking and ashamed and desperate.. The lonely voice, crying out pain and misunderstanding; what he couldn't explain, what he couldn't understand.. "Bellllllll booooooooyyyyyyyy.. Bellllllllllllllll.. Booooooooooyyyyyyy".. Echoing somewhere.. He ran down the steps and past the railings, stopping by the scooter, no longer the same.. He dug frantically into the pocket of his Parka to find his key ring, trying each key in the lock, watching the swing doors behind him.. The key slipped home.. He switched the petrol on and kicked the silver scooter into life, revving it viciously, exhaust smoke belching and pluming out behind him.. The cable tightened as he yanked the throttle back, opening up the carb.. Petrol and air flooded in, mixed, exploded and drove the scooter off its stand, the stand slapping under the boards.. He drove it towards Rottingdean, the sea stretching away on one side of him, heathland on the other.. The narrow strip of grey tarmac ran between them like a boundary, the cutting-edge.. He held the throttle wide-open, the hot tyres biting into the road, the bike purring beneath him and the wind rushing by.. The adrenaline raced like pills inside him on the open road, and felt good.. The sea glistened in the bright sunlight, white crests to the waves in the miles of deep water and its faint roar, as it broke around the cliffs, meeting him.. He banked the scooter to the right, leaned into the turn and was on to the grass, verging the road and running to the edge of the chalk cliff, dropping away steeply.. He weaved the bike, maintaining his speed, the throttle still open, pushing it towards the edge and then pulling away, throttling back, hearing the front suspension bottoming as he banked and turned, banked and turned.. He stopped, letting the bike roll over on to the grass, faintly giddy and suddenly tired.. He looked out at the sea, swelling beneath him and stretching away into the distance, and saw a rock jutting out from the headland, black and jagged and beautiful, alone in the sea.. The sight of it affected him, he didn't know why, except that it seemed precious somehow, something to hold to ('the stone's in the midst of all').. He lay down on the grass and watched it, noticing gulls flying towards it, settling like specks on its black surface, then leaving again and circling, arcing down in steep flight.. He remembered the Bell Boy, climbing the stairs and serving, and the thought sickened him.. The memory seemed to break the last thin cord between him and the past, what he had been and what he had come back to Brighton to find.. The final betrayal and the end of the promise.. Even the heroes had fallen away and been lost, fitting themselves to the mould and no longer, like the rock, on the outside and the edge of everything, differently apart.. Just for a handful of silver he left us, Just for a riband to stick in his coat - Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us, Lost all the others she let us devote; They, with the gold to give, doled.. out silver, So much was theirs who so little allowed: How all our copper had gone, for his service! Rags - were they purple, his heart had been proud! We that had loved him so, followed him, honoured him, Lived in his mild and magnificent eye, Learned his great language, caught his clear accents, Made him our pattern to live and to die!.. He alone breaks from the van and the freemen,.. - He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves!.. The last hero,.. Bell Boy.. Bell Boy.. Bellllllll booooooyyyyyyyy.. Bellllllllllllllll boooooooooooooooooyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.. Into the fresh wind, gathering clouds.. Got a new job and I'm newly born,.. You should see me dressed up in my uniform.. I work in a hotel all gilt and flash.. Remember the gaff where the doors we smashed?.. BELL BOY.. I got to keep running now,.. Bell boy! Keep my lip buttoned down.. Bell boy! Carry the bloody baggage out,.. Bell boy! Always running at someone's heel.. You know how I feel?.. Always running at someone's heel.. Rain started to fall, but very gently.. Gently raining.. It didn't trouble him.. He laid his head in his arms, weary and hungry and lost and afraid and lonely, and began to weep.. Behind him, out of sight, a rainbow arched over the heathland, the colours running together.. He tried to stand, and collapsed back.. He took the bottle of gin from his pocket, unscrewed the lid, and emptied it, throwing it over the cliff in a wide arc.. He tried to hear it breaking below him.. I sort of followed the bottle over.. I threw it high and wide like a cricket ball from the boundary.. It sailed in the wind like a kite and I got to my feet and felt the ground fall away.. At first it was just the release of pressure beneath my feet, my tired weary feet, then it was the actual weight of my legs hanging from my waist somehow.. I moved to the edge and the ribbon of white chalk close to the edge suddenly widened and I went over.. I was slow, falling slowly, dropping down the side of the chalk cliff, nearer to the sea and its sound.. It changed colour as I fell.. There was no noise.. No sound at all, anywhere.. But I knew it was real.. I was falling in the thin rain, moving towards the sea.. It felt warm.. Comforting deep, folding me in, dosing over me.. I sank in its greenness, and then rose, slowly still, breaking the surface and back in the light and the gentle rain.. I saw something glinting and strange in the distance, through the mist, and I was swimming towards it.. The scooter.. It floated on the water, on its side, one chrome breast washed by the waves.. I touched it, feeling along the lines, rubbing the chrome with my fingers.. Then the tide swelled and took it away, into the mist.. I lost sight of it.. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *.. When he opened his eyes the rain had thickened.. It streamed on to his hair, down his face, drenching him.. He looked up and saw a grey sky, the clouds gathering in and bunching.. He waited until the rain had stopped.. He lay down above the steep white, chalk-white cliff, and let the rain wash over him.. It was getting dark, but the rain had stopped.. I didn't mind.. I was drenched and the wind was cold and the grass wet, but none of it mattered any more.. It was better this way, better that it happened when everything seemed worst, when it was cold and raining and dark and lonely; better that it happened at the edge of the land, with only the sea in front in the darkness.. It was better like this because I knew it couldn't have happened anywhere else, couldn't have happened if I was somewhere warm, or with someone else.. It couldn't have even happened if l had things to look forward to and somewhere to go.. There was nothing here, and there was nothing behind.. I was shivering and nervous; really nervous.. And it wasn't the gin, or anything like that.. It was out of my system.. No, it was because I'd realized something at last.. I realized what I wanted, what I'd looked for in the music and in heroes, what I gave and expected to receive from my mates, from the mods, what I even wanted from my mum and dad.. It was really corny but I didn't give a fucking shit.. it was love I wanted.. I looked at the scooter lying there on the grass and thought of all the hours I'd spent lavishing love on my own, smashed up in a heap by the side of the road and probably stripped clean by now, like a carcass.. I thought about Steph.. I thought about the stupid cunt I was not just to say it, say 'Steph, I love you.. ' It didn't matter that she'd have laughed.. It wouldn't have made any difference but at least it would have been the truth.. It didn't make any difference that Steph didn't know what love was, that she wouldn't believe you loved her even if you brought her roses in the bog.. It was love I needed.. Without it, everything was junk.. I knew it.. Everything was junk without love.. "ONLY LOVE CAN MAKE IT RAIN.. THE WAY THE BEACH IS KISSED BY THE SEA.. ONLY LOVE CAN MAKE IT RAIN.. LIKE THE SWEAT OF LOVERS.. LAYING IN THE FIELDS.. LOVE, REIGN O'ER ME".. And, again, it began to rain, gently and persistently.. He put his face up and felt it drum over the skin, running into his collar, over his hands.. He climbed to his feet, overcoming the tiredness that almost paralysed his limbs, stiff from the cold.. The scooter came off the floor after he'd heaved at it for several minutes, straining and sweating.. It started and he revved it up, twisting the throttle.. There was music in his head again, but not as it had been, harsh and discordant and violent.. It was gentle as rain and soft, soft and swelling chords.. He brought the G.. up to forty and the engine whined at a steady pitch.. The wheels slithered on the wet grass, but he leaned and righted it and weaved away, the speed mounting and the engine beginning to scream.. He took it towards the edge, racing it down, the music increasing.. Even through the blur and the rain he saw the green of the cliff top meet the band of white chalk along the boundary between earth, sky and sea, the land's end.. He ran along it for a while, almost on the lip, then turned back, racing up the incline.. At the road, he turned again.. On the rocky beach below a crab scuttled under a rock.. Seaweed lay draped across the rocks that were clear of the water waiting for the tide to claim it, as did the shellfish and molluscs scattered throughout the quiet world of the microscopic ten square feet of space where the scooter came to rest.. As it hit the rocks the polished metal crumpled, great slabs of lacquer fell away, lamps shattered, the flyscreen buckled and cracked and the whole statuesque shape, the symbol of the mods splattered like a broken toy.. An hour later it was under water.. "I'M RECALLING DISTANT MEMORIES.. RECALLING OTHER NAMES.. FLOWING THROUGH THE CANYON.. BOILING IN THE TRAIN".. "LET ME FLOW INTO THE OCEAN.. LET ME GET BACK TO THE SEA.. LET ME BE CALM.. LET THE TIDE IN AND SET ME FREE".. "People try to put us down.. Talking bout my generation.. Just because we get around.. Things they do look awful cold.. Hope I die before I get old.. This is my generation.. My generation.. Why don't you all fade away.. Don't try and dig what we all say.. Not trying to cause a big sensation.. Just talking bout my generation.. This is my generation".. Return to top..

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  • Title: Quadrophenia-The Film
    Descriptive info: About the Film.. The Cast.. Screen Captures.. Film Clips.. A Review of the film Quadrophenia.. View Quick Time film intro.. here.. Against the backdrop of riots in 60s Brighton, Quadrophenia perfectly captures the teenage need to belong, and identify, with your peers.. In 1964 London, Jimmy Cooper (Phil Daniels) divides his time between hanging out with Mod friends and slaving in the post-room of an advertising firm.. He doesn't work because he wants to or through a desire to further a career.. No, all Jimmy wants is to have enough cash in his pocket to keep his scooter running and bespoke suits trim, leaving a little for "blues".. There's nothing that Jimmy likes more than motoring with his pals Dave (Mark Wingett), Chalky (Philip Davis) and Spider (Gary Shail).. What better way could there be to exasperate his parents (Michael Elphick and Kate Williams) and chat up birds like Steph (Leslie Ash) and Monkey (Toyah Wilcox)?.. Come Saturday, Jimmy's down the sauna getting scrubbed-down for a weekend of mayhem.. Unfortunately someone in the next cubicle is singing, off-key, the sort of tunes that really bug Jimmy.. When he doesn't stop, in fact becoming louder, Jimmy sticks his head over the partition, looking for trouble, only to find Kevin (Ray Winstone), an old school-friend.. Warmed with memories of some good times, Jimmy meets Kevin in a nearby cafe (for a sit-down breakfast).. Unfortunately it's only then that Jimmy realises that Kevin is a Rocker, the sworn mortal enemies of Mods, forcing him to make an excuse and leave.. The episode is soon forgotten though, for Jimmy is looking to have some success with women that evening.. He's had his eye on the lithe Steph for a while, even though she's currently hitched up to Pete (Garry Cooper).. So, after procuring a few pills from their supplier Ferdy (Trevor Laird), the gang rolls around looking for a party to gate-crash.. Out in the suburbs, the opportunity arises and soon everyone is swaying to the top sounds of the day.. The problem for Jimmy is that Steph is all caught up, leaving him to the tender mercies of Monkey.. She's a real  ...   appeal for someone as vulnerable, impressionable and confused as Jimmy is obvious though, since it's all about getting to grips with life.. As such, Quadrophenia lovingly recreates both the period detail and the sense of alienation that many teenagers suffer.. Somewhere around the mid-point of Quadrophenia, the beach-front of Brighton explodes into a pitched-battle between Mods and Rockers.. From a small punch-up in a cafe, thousands of excited teenagers looking for an excuse clash in what quickly becomes a riot.. However, while the action on the screen has dissolved into chaos, director Franc Roddam keeps a firm hand on the proceedings, orchestrating the violence beautifully.. Hence, while the riot is both nasty and quite scary, the film never loses sight of the principal figures (Jimmy and Steph at this point).. In tandem with this massed brawl, Roddam is also quite successful at extracting some good performances on an individual level.. Daniels is absolutely excellent as a kid chasing dreams in a haze of tiny blue pills, rapidly succumbing to drug-fuelled paranoia.. That it's all smoke and mirrors is something that rapidly becomes obvious.. Perhaps the greatest triumph of Quadrophenia is that it captures the zeitgeist perfectly.. Everything from the smart uniforms to the way in which the Who-influenced soundtrack complements Jimmy's actions and feelings adds to the authentic feel.. The drawbacks of this are that elements such as plot and deep characterisation get lost in the noise, abandoned as unnecessary by a movie which celebrates the vibrancy of youth.. However, while this point of view is valid, the lack of background hinders the appreciation of what these teenagers are doing and where they've come from.. This problem is high-lighted in the figure of "The Ace Face" (Sting), a sharp-looking fellow who captures Jimmy's imagination and loyalty, only to unwittingly shatter his world.. While he works as a symbol, it would be rewarding to just know more about him (especially as he only gets a few, muffled lines).. So, although Quadrophenia accurately invokes the Mod movement (and provides some modern-day fun in the picking out of now familiar faces), it fails to tell the whole story.. Back to top of page..

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  • Title: The Who-1973 Tour
    Descriptive info: In 1973 The Who took their new album Quadrophenia to the road.. They toured the U.. and the U.. on what turned out to be one of the most frustrating Who tours in their career.. I have tried to document as much as possible about the 1973 shows with film clips, audio sound bites, and historical information.. If you were at any of these performances I would welcome speaking with you.. Many thanks to Joe McMicahel author of the.. "Concert File".. for letting me use some of the information from his book.. Breif Introduction by Marc Leaman.. U.. Tour..

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  • Title: The Who - 1996 Tour
    Descriptive info: Watch the opening.. film sequence.. to the concerts in 1996.. Requires QuickTime plugin.. Read the Cleveland Live Review here.. 1996 Tour Dates.. Venue.. Place.. Day.. Date.. London.. Saturday.. June 29th, 1996.. Madison Square Garden.. NYC.. Tuesday.. July 16th, 1996.. Wednesday.. July 17th, 1996.. Thursday.. July 18th, 1996.. July 20th, 1996.. Sunday.. July 21st, 1996.. Monday.. July 22nd, 1996.. Rose Garden Arena.. Portland, OR.. October 13th, 1996.. Tacoma Dome.. Tacoma, WA.. October 14th, 1996.. General Motors Palace.. Vancouver, B.. C.. October 16th, 1996.. October 17th, 1996.. San Jose Arena.. San Jose.. October 19th, 1996.. October 20th, 1996.. The Great Western Forum.. Los Angeles.. October 22nd, 1996.. The America  ...   November 1st, 1996.. The Palace of Auburn Hills.. Auburn Hills, MI.. November 3rd, 1996.. The Ervin J.. Nutter Center.. Dayton, OH.. November 4th, 1996.. Gund Arena.. Cleveland, OH.. November 6th, 1996.. Civic Arena.. Pittsburg, PA.. November 8th, 1996.. Marine Midland Arena.. Buffalo, NY.. November 9th, 1996.. Air Arena.. Landover, MD.. November 11th, 1996.. The Centrum.. Worcester, MA.. November 12th, 1996.. November 13th, 1996.. Nassau Coliseum.. Uniondale, NY.. November 15th, 1996.. Core States Arena.. Philadelphia, PA.. November 17th, 1996.. Knickerbocker Arena.. Albany, NY.. November 18th, 1996.. Meadowlands Arena.. East Rutherford, NJ.. November 19th, 1996.. Earls Court.. December 6th, 1996.. December 7th, 1996.. Nynex Arena.. Manchester, U.. December 11th, 1996..

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