That Time Roger Daltrey Made Me Cry

Who’s Next, the classic 1971 album by The Who, was supposed to be a very different album than it turned out to be. It was supposed to be Pete Townshend's next grand epic, Lifehouse. It seems to me that the idea was kind of half-baked, and it didn’t happen, but several of the songs were salvaged and became what might be that band’s best album.

In the early days of Compact Discs, my brother very generously gave me a player for Christmas, along with a few CDs. I immediately wanted to build up my collection and the easiest way to do that in those days was to join the Columbia Record Club.

For those who don’t know, don’t remember, or have blocked it out, when you joined the Columbia Record Club you got 10 CDs for a penny or something ridiculous like that. After that, they’d send you a monthly catalog and you would agree to buy X number of CDs from them in the next year or two at their often inflated prices. But because of that initial order, it worked out to be a decent deal.

Who’s Next was one of my ten-for-a-penny selections.

I was having a bad week, between work and other life issues. I was having trouble sleeping, tossing and turning with worry and anxiety. So I finally gave up and got out of bed at 2 AM, went downstairs, and put on my headphones. I popped The Who into the player, sat on the floor, and closed my eyes.

The familiar opening synth part of “Baba O’Riley” filled my head with its insinuating rhythm. By the time the drums and piano kicked in, I was transfixed. Everything that had been bothering me was already falling away when Pete Townshend’s crashing guitar chords kicked my troubles into the background. There was nothing but the music.

When the second song, “Bargain,” came on, I realized that I hadn’t heard that whole album in many years. I don’t think I ever owned a copy before that. I’d only heard it at friend’s places. What a remarkable collection of songs!

Then at the end came “Won’t Get Fooled Again.”

It’s a bookend to “Baba O’Riley” in that it also starts with a rhythmic synthesizer figure (though a bit shorter) before the band explodes in with power chords. Absolutely exhilarating.

By that time, I was completely inside the music. I was not even in my own head anymore. Just past the six-and-a-half-minute mark, the band lays back and lets that rhythmic synth take over for a minute or so.

Then Roger Daltrey let out the most visceral primal scream ever recorded in the history of rock-and-roll.

And I realized that tears were flowing down my cheeks

Daltrey was screaming for me.

All of my frustration and anxiety were poured out by a human cry that was recorded over a decade earlier.

I never heard that song in that way before or since, but on that sleepless night, Roger Daltrey made me cry, and it was just what I needed.