The beauty of The Beatles was that it wasn’t just Ringo Starr who ‘played for the song’, it was all of them, hence why the bastards have about 70 brilliant tracks in their locker. They crafted harmonious masterpieces while lesser bands found themselves crafting dissonant ego clashes.
The Who, on the other hand, had a unique composition in a different way. Pete Townshend, their chief songwriter, was paradoxically their most withdrawn presence. Keith Moon, their drummer, carried all the eye-catching mania of a frontman. And John Entwistle, the bassist, played as though he was the lead guitarist.
In essence, they simply ‘played to the best of their ability’ and the songs followed. That might have meant that they have far fewer masterpieces than the Fab Four, however, there is no doubt that they were mesmerising. One of the key facets of the razzle-dazzled mods was Entwistle’s mesmeric mastery of the bass.
So, it’s interesting to see what Paul McCartney would make of him. Macca has never been a stranger to a complex lick, but like James Jamerson before him, they still provide a rhythm that slinks into the background rather than snatching the mic, the complexity only really arising when you place them under the microscope. In essence, if Entwistle’s bass drives the song from the front, McCartney conducts things from afar.
That’s not to say he didn’t respect him, though. While speaking with the Brazilian newspaper Estadão in 2019, McCartney was asked to pick his fantasy three-piece band, and he opted for Entwistle on bass in esteemed company alongside John Bonham and Jimi Hendrix.
And there was one comical moment that helped to solidify The Who star’s position. Back in 1977, McCartney happened to be present when Roger Daltrey was recording his solo album, One of the Boys. For the first time, he got to see Entwistle in action up close. Was he impressed?
“Paul walked into the control room while I was recording a particularly fast, flashy solo on ‘Avenging Annie,’ an Andy Pratt song,” Entwistle recalled in his memoir The Ox. “After I had finished it, he came out on to the studio floor and said to me, ‘That was very nice. But I bet you can’t play country and western’.”
McCartney’s logic was clear: sure, he could knock the socks off of Gandhi with showstopping soloing, but could he play to a song? Was he hiding a lack of the basics behind bravura, like a used car seller who blabs on about the paint job and never once reveals the engine?
Well, as Entwistle continues, “I replied by playing a lightning fast, slapping bluegrass passage. Paul muttered as he left, ‘Flash cunt.’” It’s a trademark quip for which McCartney is known, but it still didn’t answer his question.
