(Credits: Far Out / YouTube Still)
Sun 30 November 2025 13:27, UK
“Keith Moon, God rest his soul, once drove his car through the glass doors of a hotel, driving all the way up to the reception desk, got out and asked for the key to his room,” Pete Townshend once recalled.
Given how the genre has unfurled, for many, that caper alone constitutes ‘classic rock’. Without a note being played, the notion of a luxury automobile casually, comically ram-raiding into a plush establishment just for a pre-gig giggle prompts the assumption that the band you’re dealing with is four white blokes rehashing the blues with pyrotechnics.
But, of course, that is a glib way to look at something revolutionary, and Townshend was never unaware of the true atavistic spiritual power of the genre. In fact, despite the wild tales that pit his life story, he told the New York Times in 2019, “I’ve always regarded the rock-star phenomenon with immense disdain.” Favouring a more spiritual outlook on music.
The importance of the art form went beyond mere melodies or moments of hotel madness for the windmilling Townshend, even when he was a kid. “I was the child of the guy who played saxophone in a post-war dance band,” he said. “He knew what his music was for – it was for post-war, and it was for dancing with a woman that you might end up marrying. It was about romance, dreams, fantasy”.
With riots running rampant, presidents being assassinated, and the world looking for direction amid an explosion of pop culture, he set about creating a new type of song. “Music, even today, is about much more than that. It has a function, which is to help us understand what is going on in the world and to help us understand what is going on inside us, so the purpose and the duty of somebody who makes music is very different to the way it used to be.
Pete Townshend performing live with The Who in 1966. (Credits: Bent Rej)
With a great degree of pride, he proclaims, “And I think I was the first to articulate that and try to explain it,” he told Apple Music. Following in the footsteps of his heroes like Bob Dylan, he tried to define the times with rollicking anthems like ‘My Generation’, bringing something new to the genre without restructuring the tried and tested wheel.
In his view, only two bands achieved this in a rocking capacity. In those days, it was about realising the swathe of liberation on the horizon, and when he inducted The Rolling Stones into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, he claimed that they did that with a sense of energy bordering on the alchemical. “I can’t analyse what I feel about the Stones because I am a really an absolute Stones fan, always have been,“ he began.
“Their early shows were just shocking,” he added. “Absolutely riveting, stunning, moving, and they changed my life completely. The Beatles were fun, no doubt about that. I’m talking about they’re live shows. I’m demeaning them in any way. The Stones were really what made me wake up,” he continued.
“They are the only group that I’ve ever really been unashamed about idolising. So much of what I am I got is from you, The Stones. I had no idea most of it was already secondhand (he laughs). No more gags, the Stones are the greatest for me. They epitomise British Rock for me.” They seemingly epitomise classic rock for him, too.
Keith Richards, the guitarist in Townshend’s favourite band, once said, ”I’ve never had a problem with drugs. I’ve had problems with the police.” Pete had a problem with both, and he used that to elicit a point he had about rock. When New York’s WAXQ-FM claimed The Police were a classic rock act, Townshend stepped in to protect the sanctity of the genre: “They’re now calling The Police ‘classic rock.’ I don’t think so. The Police are punk. They’re a punk band. They’re not classic rock,” he sneered.
“You know, you’ve got the (Rolling) Stones and The Who. Classic rock – finished. It’s all over after that…this is just music. It’s not classic anything,” he concluded. As the man who claims to have invented heavy metal, he opines that everything else is just an offshoot of the real McCoy, leaving the glorified kingdom of classic rock a lonely two-horse town, circled by mere pretenders.
One thing’s for sure, both groups certainly support Townshend’s classic mantra: “Rock ‘n’ Roll might not solve your problems, but it does let you dance all over them.”
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