WhoAreYouVille
I've taken a lot of guff standing up for Pete Townshend in recent years, what with the difficulties he's gotten himself into, etc.
Of course, there's the genius of the guy and all that, but I think what has really made it difficult for me to let him go to that great 'sell-out' in the tax-havened sky is that every time I strum a G-D-C progression on the guitar I am overcome with this uncontrollable urge to windmill my arm as the summer of 1974* and all the power that hearing Baba O'Reilly sent surging through my awkward adolescent angst that begins with Pete's strained and straining refrain of....
And despite the fact that I know, in my heart of hearts, that real musicians, like wordsmiths, are loath to turn down any paying gig that doesn't involve inflicting bodily harm and/or the ritual killing of kittens, well, I think Mr. Townshend is on his own now:
This week, on spacious lawns surrounding a turreted, gargoyle-encrusted mansion north of London, thousands of hedge fund managers and the bankers and lawyers who love them gathered for their own alternative festival, called Hedgestock**.
Billed as a gathering place for the misunderstood, sometimes unloved but highly successful facet of the finance industry, Hedgestock aimed to marry the ideals, music and fashion of the 1960's with a networking event for the hedge fund world.
{snip}
According to Alpha, a magazine that covers the industry, the 26 top hedge fund managers took home $130 million or more each in 2005.
{snip}
The Who, who played at Woodstock, headlined Hedgestock, and the band's guitarist, Pete Townshend, now 61 years old, did, in fact, do his trademark windmill guitar moves.
But what the hell. I guess everyone's heroes must finally fall sometime.
Still, I can't help but wonder if Mr. Townshend ever shudders when he mouth's the words from that other song of his, the one referenced in the title to this post, about hope and age and, well, the final reckoning?
Naw.
He's probably too busy laughing.
All the way to the bank.
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* OK, OK, OK. The song was released on 'Who's Next' in 1971, but back then it took awhile for stuff like that to reach the outer reaches of Left Coast Canuckistan.
**The official motto of the vile thing was 'Make Cash, Not War'. Which is laughable. After all, I'm sure there is probably not one hedge fund manager alive that wouldn't go gaga over a burgeoning defense contractor deal right now.
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