“A Stream of Consciousness on The Who and the Moral Moribundity at the End of the Rainbow”

What is the ideal? It’s long hair. It’s loud guitars. For those who dare to attempt it, much scrutiny will unfurl. Those who wish to step into the limelight, and who in doing so stir up so much attention, will incur rabid jealousy of varied intensities.

Who might incinerate the silence with actual nutrients? Why does the three-verse format work so well? It’s not verbal, or “Pinball Wizard” wouldn’t be such a good song. It’s not the foolishness, and it’s not the grandiosity. It’s the combination of these two things. The lyrics are deliberately “mock,” just daring you to find any scruple with them. The lyrics actually scream: “We could not BE any worse than we are, but it just doesn’t matter, because we’re showcasing vocal chops, rip chords, we’re showcasing augmentations and suspensions, and we’re having more fun than YOU are at home… and somehow we know what to do, because we’re British. Somehow we have this preternatural sense of our own lot in life, our own placed, we know we originally colonized you guys, we’ve got Eric Clapton overhere, and the best song on the planet is not engrossed in the following imagery: “That deaf, dumb and blind kid sure played a mean pinball.” Nobody can explain why it’s there, or why it’s good. It’s just good. None of us will ever do solo stuff, and none of our members will die prematurely. We will get hatred from jealous people, and then these people will perish, because of this. We are British, but primarily, we are pinball fans.

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