A long time ago (when I was younger than my daughter is now), a World Famous Guitarist Who Shall Remain Nameless rather coyly asked me who I thought the best guitarist in rock and roll was. If he was hoping I would say “why, YOU, of course,” he was doomed to disappointment. I blinked at him and said “Pete Townshend, of course. DUH.”
Actually, let’s substitute “most complete” for “best.” I’ve just watched a gem of a show, The Who at Kilburn, 1977. My answer remains the same: Pete Townshend, with virtually no competition.
Yes, there are players who are by far more brilliant technicians. Yes, there are flashier players – hell, there are speed merchants by the boatload. None of them wrote “Behind Blue Eyes” or “Won’t Get Fooled Again” or “The Song Is Over” or “I Can See For Miles” or any of the other bloody amazing and completely memorable songs Pete Townshend wrote. There was also a little thing called Tommy.
The players who generally come up in those conversations tend to be former Yardbirds. So, taking that field one by one:
Jeff Beck is a monstrous guitar player and possibly untouchable as a technician, but I don’t enjoy watching him. Onstage, all his energy seems cold and ego-driven to me. He’s also not a singer, which is why Rod Stewart was there. And if he’s ever written a lyric, I’m unaware of it.
Eric Clapton is also a monstrous guitar player, although over the decades he seems to have become Eric Almighty Updated Blues Guitar God Clapton, which is a pity; the energy doesn’t do it for me. I found him more watchable in the Cream years. He’s also a good singer and a good lyricist, but I prefer listening to his covers (“Cocaine,” “I Shot The Sheriff,” “Ride The River”) than I do his originals. Yes, I’m aware of “Layla,” on which I burned out twenty-five years ago ago. “Lay Down Sally” is, um, cute. “She’s Waiting” is made entirely by his corking backup singers. “Wonderful Tonight” is a nice little watercolour of a lyric. I hear the first notes of “Tears In Heaven” and I change the station. I think I have three actual Clapton compositions in my music library. I have three plus decades of Pete Townshend’s. The man is a phenomenal lyricist.
Jimmy Page is a wonderful acoustic player. I’ve heard him mention Scotty Moore as an early influence, but really, two words: Davey Graham. Mind you, there are way worse influences for a young guitarist to have – Graham was mindblowing. In fact, Graham played “She Moved Through The Fair” without feedback or fiddle bows. He did it with no gimcrackery whatsoever. He just stood there and played it on the telly when the picture was black and white and grainy, and several jaws hit the deck including, apparently, the jaw belonging to one young James Page. As a lead guitarist, Page is a lead guitarist. As a singer and a lyricist, he is neither.
Townshend does it all. A side note: who else could have melded so perfectly with Keith Moon behind him? That is not a small thing. Would you turn your back on Keith Moon for two hours of live music? And while Roger Daltrey is the voice of The Who, Pete is a singer, and a damned good one. Go listen to “Slit Skirts” or “However Much I Booze” and then go listen to them again. There’s power and passion and regret and all the stuff that makes his lyrics work in that voice.
Of course, there’s one name that always comes up in that “who do you think…” discussion: Jimi Hendrix.
Hendrix did it. He did all of it – hell, he was the gold standard. Hendrix was the source, the motherlode, for so much of what’s come since.
But Hendrix died so damned young. We have no way of knowing what he might have done, or been, had he lived to Pete’s age. The shooting star is frozen in time and memory; I think a lot of people undervalue the sheer power and price of longevity. Pete’s still out there playing, still out there singing, still writing. And he’s still brilliant. I’d add Richard Thompson to a shortlist basically containing two names. To my mind, he’s the only other player out there who does all that. But for whatever reason, Thompson’s brilliance is considered more eclectic.
My tuppence. Your taste in guitarists may vary. For me, Townshend is rock’s One True Guitarist: not the best, necessarily, but miles away the most complete.
