Hey, Pete - Where's WALDO?!?
Jeff Blehar <jdb3@jhu.edu> (24.02.2000)
And you accuse ME of having bizarre biases! Well we're all entitled to some (and I can certainly understand where I might have quite a few), but I simply adore Empty Glass and my favorite songs are probably the two which you pointedly knocked. Strange...first of all, let me tell you why I don't think this album is overrated. It's very, very special in terms of its mood, melodies, and lyricism. I can't really think of anything else in my collection that sounds quite like it - I mean, I've got lots of albums that get one aspect down, be it the confessional part, or the melodic part, but nothing that combines them all. And what Empty Glass has that can never really be adequately expressed in a review is an indescribable air, a sheen of beauty...I dunno, some sort of brilliant class. I can try to describe it (and I will), but I don't think I can do justice to it; it's something like a drunk's one shining burst of lucidity. A man at the psychological bottoming-out of his life (as Townshend was at this point in time) granted a moment of peaceful serenity and clarity to analyze, criticize, and (most poignantly, and most observantly as well) celebrate. It's really a beautiful album through and through, from the rockers to the ballads, and while in some completely cold sense I can understand the differentiations you made in song types, I don't really notice that. I just hear one of the finest lyricists in rock and roll history taking the knife to every aspect of his life and revealing both the good and the bad. And that he does both is SO important; just as a purely celebratory album would feel phony and insincere, a purely self-flagellating album would also simply be too monochromatic and (what's more) would fail to do justice to Townshend himself. In fact, that's what did The Who By Numbers in at the final consideration (and I too see obvious parallels): it was unrelievedly dreary, with no mention of the spirituality which always buoyed Townshend.
So anyway, Empty Glass has this indescribable class, this spirit of simultaneous recrimination and celebration coupled with a sleek instrumental sound that renders it really indelible in my mind. The rockers don't sound like "rockers," the ballads don't sound like "ballads," it all just sounds like "Pete Townshend," if that makes any sense to anyone. It's one of those albums that, despite its mass market, hits you square in the heart in a way little else does. I remember when I first bought this CD putting it on in the car and getting this strange feeling of intimacy and fulfillment, as if I was slightly richer for hearing this disc and that it was something special that could be mine and mine alone: a public statement that can lend private meanings to its listeners. But that's all just personal reminiscence and general discussion; I mention it only because I know others who have felt exactly the same way. As far as the songs go, I won't even try to say that EVERY song is absolutely smashing, "Cat's In The Cupboard" being one that does particularly little for me. But there's really so much that's brilliant and uplifting, even when it's ostensibly dragging you down in the mud of Townshend's misery. "I Am An Animal" is absolutely the farthest thing from an "uninspired ballad," rather it's an exquisitely melodic and lyrical triumph. Built around beautifully delicate piano and a naked confession, it alternates between "hot" verses and "cold" choruses, until about halfway through, whereupon those categories revise themselves further. And "Empty Glass" is really, really powerful. And EXTREMELY memorable, be it in either the completely unnecessary reference to the Book of Ecclesiastes and the furiously driven single-note opening which drips self-loathing to those fragile choruses, it just reeks highlights. And although this is much more apparent on the demo version included as a bonus track on Who Are You (get that album, it's underrated!), it caps itself in one last (very memorable) sickening twist: Townshend takes the uplifting handclap syncopated rhythm from the coda of "Pure And Easy" (remember that one?) and grafts it onto the bleakly drained exhortation to "don't worry, smile and dance/you just can't work life out/don't let the mood entrance you/take the wine and shout!" It's a surprisingly nihilistic statement of resignation dressed up as a cheer, and the fact that he saw fit to include the song three years after it was originally written (1977) should say something. I won't bother commenting on the rest of songs (among which the pisstake on rock criticism "Jools And Jim," is probably my favorite - the FIRST anti-Rolling Stone song! Yeah!), if only because I think it'd just be superfluous. Suffice it to say that I'd run across a desert to give this a 10/10, despite any weaknesses in its component songs, because the whole is so indescribably essential. Oh, and here's a wacky tidbit of info to deflate some of seriousness of this comment: did you know that this album was written and recorded during a phase in Townshend's career when he was convinced he was a woman trapped in a man's body? No shit. NOW look at the song titles and lyrics again, and see if you can't find some shocking subtexts! You know what part of the body an "empty glass" is a metaphor for, yes? (This is from HIS mouth, not mine, no joke!) And the lyrics to "And I Moved" and "Rough Boys" can be seen in a whole new light. Why do you think in "I Am A Animal" he deems himself to be "queen of the fucking universe?" Strange perhaps, but strangely brilliant nevertheless.
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