The same topic will prompt something akin to a more civilised digital walkout in around half an hour’s time.ĭaltrey’s relationship with the traditional accoutrements of rock’n’roll would be tagged on Facebook as “It’s complicated”. In 2019, he angrily fled a Sky News interview when questioned about the effect of Brexit on international touring. it’s a route to nowhere”, 2021) and, most notoriously, Brexit. Albeit one who, in recent years, has made headlines for his outspoken takes on #MeToo (“It’s always allegations and it’s just salacious c**p”, 2018), woke culture (“It’s terrifying, the miserable world are going to create for themselves. From his years as the prototype rebel rock-messiah figure in the Sixties and Seventies – forged in the stuttered flick-off of “My Generation” and encapsulated in the pinball godhead of 1968’s blueprint rock opera Tommy – he’s grown gracefully into his current role, at 78, as benevolent classic rock modgrandfather. And just because of his personality, no matter how bad it got, everybody loved him.” What a bunch of fellers! I’m sure he was autistic. He was the kindest he could be the most hurtful, spiteful, the most gentle, most loving. Everything he was was magnified a thousand times. But we worked bloody hard for it.”Īre there any Moon legends that particularly sum up his character? “What bit of his character would you like?” Daltrey chuckles. We used to have very fast cars, and everywhere was foot on the floor. “We used to go everywhere at 120 miles an hour, there were no speed limits, lighting was very poor. “You look at our tour schedule in ’65, ’66, ’67, it’s just crazy,” says the gruff, amiable singer, beaming into the camera from a well-appointed music room in his Jacobean manor house in East Sussex. In fact, he’s most amazed not by The Who’s legendary tales of carnage and debauchery, but by their sheer velocity. The thankfully brief few weeks in 1965 that he spent on the Krays’ loan book when he needed £400 for a new car. The time he was hit directly in the eye by a mike stand wielded by Gary Glitter during boisterous rehearsals for a Quadrophenia live tour in 1996. The helicopter that conked out as it came in to land at the Isle of Wight Festival in 1970. The Hell’s Angels riots at early Who gigs. When The Who’s Roger Daltrey looks back at his nigh on 60 years as one of the roaring engines of rock’n’roll and declares “It’s a wonder we survived,” he could be talking about any number of near-death moments.
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