The song is about a man who has gone out and gotten drunk and been gone for a period of time (due to being locked up in the drunk tank) and is in fear of his wife because she thinks he was spending time with another woman.
"My Wife" was the fourth track on "Who's Next" recorded at Olympic Studios May 1971.
While it did appear on Who's Next
it was thought that it was not a part of the Lifehouse project[2],
which was confirmed in 2000, when it was not included in Pete Townshend'sLifehouse Chronicles box set.
The song drolly describes, in first person, all the things he needs to have or do to protect himself from her wrath.
"My Wife" is arguably John Entwistle's highlight on "Who's Next" being that he takes on the lead vocals, bass guitar, piano, and horn section
Unusually, this song does not feature a guitar solo, which is most likely because Entwistle could only "write on bass guitar or in my head, just transfer it to manuscript paper, or piano,"[5] and did not play the guitar. Instead of a guitar solo, in the longer breaks between verses there is a horn part by Entwistle. This song is in the key of B major.
In 1979 "My Wife" was again released as a B-side single, this time to "Long Live Rock". This version was recorded live and released on The Kids Are Alright. What is rare about this version is that it was the only song released from The Who's 1977 concert at the Kilburn State Theatre in London.[6] The rest of the songs were not released until 2008 on the DVD The Who at Kilburn: 1977. The song is unlike the studio version as it has a guitar solo by Townshend but no piano or horns.
In November 1973, Entwistle re-recorded the song and released it on his third solo album Rigor Mortis Sets In. A live version of the song was featured on the two-disc compilation album So Who's the Bass Player? The Ox Anthology which was released on 22 March 2005.
During an interview Pete Townshend described "My Wife" as "the best new rock number on the album [Who's Next]."[5] Critic Mark Deming called "My Wife" the "comic relief" on "Who's Next".[7]
While it's certainly true that Pete Townshend has a keen sense of humor, on Who's Next, the album salvaged from the pieces of the stalled Lifehouse project, Townshend gave John Entwistle the honor of penning the album's comic relief number, and he certainly came up with a corker. "My Wife" is built around a theme as old as vaudeville -- after a few too many drinks, Entwistle runs into a spot of trouble with the law and doesn't make it home that night. His spouse, however, is convinced he's absent because he's been seeing another woman, and now she's on the warpath, and Entwistle is convinced he's got a lot of running to do to escape the wrath of a woman scorned. Not a brilliant premise, to be sure, but Entwistle milks it for all the absurdity he can -- fast cars, planes, bodyguards, guns, martial arts experts, and even tanks aren't enough to keep Entwistle safe from his enraged one-time beloved, and the taller the tale gets, the more amusing it becomes. It helps that Entwistle married his lyrics to a cracking good tune, in fact one of his best -- "My Wife" roars along with a bluesy élan that doesn't get in the way of its commendable physical momentum, and Entwistle fortified the Who's enthusiastic performance with a rollicking piano line and some well-placed horn overdubs (the brass, of course, being played by Entwistle himself). "My Wife" is easily the least-weighty song on Who's Next, but in many ways that's the song's greatest virtue; Lifehouse was as serious and inward-looking a project as the Who would ever attempt, and in the midst of the complex puzzle assembled on Who's Next, "My Wife" served as a reminder that the Who were more than just the platform for a visionary musical genius -- they were a damn good rock & roll band who knew how to give the crowd a good time, and don't let anyone tell you that's not important.
Because of excessive live performances John Entwistle wrote "The Quiet One" to replace this song, although he would still perform the song for his solo career and his later performances with The Who.[8] Rob Mitchum of Pitchfork Media called it "the only listenable song of [Entwistle's] writing career."[9]
Jp from Roanoke, VaOn the “Kids Are Alright” album, and also on the video available on this page, there are one or two words which are spoken at the very end, after the song is over. On the album I think it is Roger D. that speaks the words, but on the video on this page it sounds like John E. is saying them. Anyone know what the word or words are? It sounds like “be offs” or something like that. Thanks.
Guy from Woodinville, WaThis is the funniest song ever written. EVER!! I had to write down the lyrics for this way back when I was a teenager.Loved it then and now that I've been married 23 years, I love it more than ever. Hilarious! I think there's a whole side to joh Entwistle that we never really saw, only in his lyrics.
Rob from Charleston, Sc, WvMan,I can't believe it. I recently rediscovered this song. I heard this song in college when it was released in 1971. I was also a DJ on a Progressive Rock FM station and played the song. I always loved the instrumentation and the horns in the final 1/3 of the song. I have been married 35 years next month and the lyrics apply to me so much!! I have a new found appreciation of this song!
Fudge from Los Banos, CaPlayed at my wedding in my head...Unbelievable drum part...Keith Moon...RIP..
Carolina from Palm Springs, Caoh, jeez i absolutely Love this song...and The Who in general :) . John Entwistle rocks, yo!!
Sage from San Fran, Cawhen she first heard it she thought it was hilarious and wanted to chase the band mémbers around when they were preforming it
Jack from Riverside, CaJohn's major (and only) contribution to Who's Next... He wrote it, sung it, and played bass, piano and brass on it.
Allen from Bethel, AkI didn't understand a word of this song until I downloaded the lyrics. I like it.
Aylin from MontrealJohn Entwistle certainly had a sense of humour. (Eg. Boris)
Mike from Germantown, MdIt is a clasic song of a man running away from his wife.This is shown in the line "When she catches up with me Won't be no time to explain"
Paul from Aurora, IlI thought this song was where a guy waits to shoot his wife right when she walks into the door and then run away with his friends. This is a pretty good song.
James from Staffordshire, EnglandIts wrote and sung by john! It also made the album' Who's Next. Not sure if it was meant to be on the Lifehouse Project of pete's but i Love the Song and glad i got to hear it! Rock on, Rock God John!!
Spence from Smithfield, VaI thought this song what fit perfect in the soundtrack to the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith, where husband and wife are trying to kill eachother.
Stefanie Magura from Rock Hill, ScThis song is hilarious! I love it!
Vincent from St. Davids, EnglandThis song hasnt put off maraige. Cause now it sounds like great fun!
Fintan from Cheltenham, EnglandHis wife Alison thought it was funny when she first heard it.
Jude from Thomasville, GaIt takes a genius to write an upbeat, rocking song about your wife wanting to murder you -- but that goes without saying since the songwriter is John Entwistle! It doesn't fit in with all Pete's "Lifehouse" music, and I like it even better for that.
Kabrams from Dallas, Txpretty funny song once you figure out the lyrics... john entwistle wasn't a bad songwriter
Gregmon from Intelbuquerque, NmAll I did was have a bit too much to drink And I picked the wrong precinct Got picked up by the law And now I ain't got time to think I just love that line.
Anthony from Clearwater, FlJohn sang it - and did a great job. This is one of my favorite Who tunes.
John Phillip's lost Pussycat(full album)with Mick Jagger and Keith Richards is a hardcore drug orgy for losers
John Phillips -Pussycat (full albumplaylist)
John Phillips, the mastermind behind the sunshine-pop sound of the Mamas and the Papas, as well as a notoriousdrug abuser, must have been an extremely frustrating person to work with. Gifted but irretrievably dissolute, Phillips seems more interested in romanticizing failure and squandering talent rather than applying his ample supply of it with any consistency.
Even in his chart-ruling heyday in the mid-1960s, he seemed drawn to themes of disappointment, betrayal, and regret (albeit cleverly masked by resplendent harmonies and catchy melodies), and after going solo, he made a career of living those themes out. Through the lost decades that followed the Mamas and Papas' breakup, he continued to show just enough brilliance in his intermittent efforts to make records that couldn't be written off entirely, no matter how many of the attempts ended up fizzling out, leaving behind a disarray of unfocused, unfinished masters.
The sessions that have now yielded Pussycat, the third in Varèse Sarabande's series of reissues of solo Phillips material, are a quintessential example. In 1976, after the Rolling Stones negotiated a vanity label for themselves, Mick Jagger signed Phillips, coming off several largely dormant years of dabbling with film scores and theatrical efforts, to record a solo album for the new label in London. Jagger and Keith Richards would play on the record as well as produce it, and a star-studded ensemble of musicians were brought in to contribute, including Ron Wood, Mick Taylor (in his first reunion with his former Stones compatriots), Michelle Phillips, and percussionist Reebop Kwaku Baah from Traffic, among others. Phillips and Richards were a match made in junkie heaven, and they bonded so thoroughly that Richards and Anita Pallenberg moved into Phillips' house in London during the sessions. Somewhat predictably, chaos ensued. Drug use reportedly escalated, and the sessions fell apart. Attempts were made to resurrect them later in New York, but the Stones by that time were at work in Paris on Some Girls, leaving a dispirited Phillips and engineer Harvey Jay Goldberg to try to bring the project to a close.
They finished 10 songs and submitted them to Atlantic, Rolling Stones Records' parent company. Unable to identify any hits in the miasma, the label shelved it. Phillips would later buy back the masters, which hadn't been released in their original mixes, until now. (The 2001 release Pay Pack and Follow offers some of the same tracks in radically different mixes.)
Pussycat is a relic of those halcyon days in the 1970s when margins at the major labels were fat enough to allow them to coddle rock royalty wrestling with their egos and their growing irrelevance. Had it been released, Pussycat would have been at peace with the period's other bloated indulgences, albums that put the tattered decadence and artistic foundering of legendary songwriters on full display: Leonard Cohen's Death of a Ladies Man, Gene Clark's No Other, and Nilsson's own Pussy Cats. Almost despite themselves, each of these flamboyantly overproduced extravaganzas has a irreducible core of sadness, making the overkill layers of backing vocals and horn sections, and session pros jamming, shimmer with an evocative poignancy even when in a conventional sense, they kind of suck. Listeners get to vicariously experience the thrill of heedlessly burning through entertainment industry money, and recklessly destroying brain cells with substance abuse in the futile process of searching for a creative spark.
It's a very specific sort of emotional vibe -- luxury-line desperation -- but if you've acquired a taste for it, it can make for sublime listening. Pussycat captures it best on such tracks as "Wilderness of Love," which is built around this tagline that eats its own tail: "Languishing in the splendor of being lost in a wilderness of love." Given the cast of characters on the record, it's no surprise that it sounds like the Stones albums of the mid-'70s, with a lot of casual grooves, somnambulist tempos, and ragged harmonies. "Oh Virginia" is a very faint echo of Exile on Main Street's country-inspired songs, and "She's Only 14", with its salacious jailbait lyrics, languid slide licks, and prominent Jagger backing vocals, seems like it could be a half-cooked Goat's Head Soup outtake.
As is frequently the case with Phillips, he doesn't hesitate to transform the potentially embarrassing details of his personal life into frank songs; "She's Only 14", inspired by his wayward daughter Mackenzie (of One Day at a Time fame), is typical. Phillips seems to find this approach irresistible, pitilessly recounting his own foibles as if putting the memories up for sale in song excuses his behavior. (Perhaps the most notorious example is "Let It Bleed, Genevieve", from his first solo album. The song recounts his skin-popping heroin use with another woman while his girlfriend was upstairs having a miscarriage.)
But the album's pinnacle is the title track, in which Phillips pours out his heart for the dancers at his favorite strip club, with whom he clearly empathizes. Phillips is never so compelling as when he's singing about the habitats of broken dreams -- strip clubs, junkie dens, southern California -- and he has a knack for finding just the right blend of self-pity, sentimentality, and scorn to achieve true pathos. On this track, he's complemented by an arrangement that suits the subject matter perfectly. The song ambles along, with Phillips confessing his intimate familiarity with the strip-club scene, and he sheepishly admits that if he had "a million hearts to give," he would give one to all the girls who work onstage. And then a booming backing vocalist breaks in to repeat the line, bringing the song to a complete halt, as if to remind us of the true magnitude of the wish he just expressed: that he deeply feels the pain of those compelled to expose and exploit themselves for a jeering or indifferent universe of spectators, and he wishes he could comfort them. He wishes he could comfort himself. But then the song lurches back into its insouciant rhythm, undermining its own poignancy. In this, it is a microcosm of the album, if not Phillips' entire career.
Johnny Paycheck - Colorado Kool-Aid (How the Best Bar Fight Song of All Time was Written)
"I was sittin' in this beer joint down in Houston, Texas/ Drinkin' Colorado Kool-Aid and talkin' to some Mexicans..."
So begins one of the greatest bar-fight songs of all time.
Along with "Pardon Me (I've Got Someone To Kill),""Colorado Kool-Aid" is one of the high-water marks of Johnny Paycheck at his existential meanest, the consummate tough-guy anthem.
The B-side of Paycheck's massive hit "Take This Job and Shove It," "Kool-Aid" stands alongside "Pardon Me" as some of the grittiest, most realistic output of the entire Outlaw era.
David Allan Coe always presented himself to be the bad boy of the Outlaw movement, but there isn't a song in Coe's catalog that approaches the blunt reality of "Colorado Kool-Aid."
The song is as much Charles Bukowski and Jack Kerouac as it is Hank Williams or the Stanley Bros., who did some of the best bluegrass versions of these meaner types of songs.
With his matter-of-fact delivery, like a regular sitting at his usual spot at the bar, Paycheck sells this one as few artists could.
It is literally almost perfect as a dramatic monologue.
Paycheck's droll delivery never waivers as he delivers lines like,
"Now, big man, if you get urge to spit a little beer/ Just open up your hand and spit it in your own ear."
What really sets the tune apart from the usual macho bar-fight song is that the little unnamed Mexican guy, when pushed far enough by the bar bully, turns out to be the badass.
And you can't but love it when this fellow cuts the bully's ear off, then
"bent over with a half-way grin, picked it up and handed it back to him."
Only the finest Colorado Kool-Aid will satisfy Johnny Paycheck
The song stands apart from 99.9 percent of all bar-fight songs for the telling details that leave no doubt about the legitimacy of Paycheck's bar room credentials.
Examples:
Paycheck notes about slicing off the bully's ear that the little Mexican fellow
"cut that thing off even with the sideburn."
That's the kind of detail LOM's English teachers used to tell us to add to our narratives to give them truth and life.
And Paycheck's rambling, confidential aside as the music fades is priceless barroom-brawl dialogue:
"I said, barmaid, set us up a round of Colorado Kool-Aid/ And while you're up there, bring this big fellow a box of Band-Aids."
And then Paycheck looks directly at us from his bar stool and lays the lesson on the line:
Now lemme tell you, if you're ever ridin' down in South Texas And decide to stop and drink some Colorado Kool-Aid And maybe talk to some Mexican And you get the urge to get a little tough Better make sure you've got your knife-proof earmuffs.
Words to live by....
"How you doin', big man/ Still got your ear there in your hand..."
For those of us who lived through the oil boom of the '70s and all the crazy bar stuff that went on here during that era, this is so Houston.
Lonesome Onry and Mean: Colorado Kool-Aid
Lonesome, Onry and Mean had just begun
our phone interview with Monte Warden of the Wagoneers when we heard
someone talking to Warden in the background.
"This
is unbelievable," Warden exclaimed. "My wife's father wrote that song.
It just made his day when we forwarded that blog to him."
Well,
believe us, we thought that was pretty unbelievable too. And we weren't
aware that Johnny Paycheck hadn't penned the song himself.
So, Monte, what's the story on that?
"Phil
Thomas was a working Nashville songwriter, but he also had worked in
promotion for Shiloh when they were hot," Warden explains. "That brought
him to Houston some."
So, since Thomas wasn't from Houston and never lived here,
just why did he begin the song with
"I was sittin' in this beer joint
down in Houston, Texas / drinkin' Colorado Kool-Aid and talkin' to some
Mexicans"?
"He always told me that he'd seen exactly those kinds
of joints around Houston and it just worked," says Warden.
"He didn't
have any particular knowledge of Houston, really, that's just the way
the song came to him.
And between his lyrics and the way Johnny Paycheck
delivered them, everything about that song seemed super-realistic."
Thomas
went on to write two other Johnny Paycheck winners, "Billy Bardo" and
"Me and the I.R.S."
Other Thomas cuts include George Strait's "Baby Your
Baby" and Gene Watson's "Drinking My Way Back Home."
read the following short story by lamar sorrento (and realize that i could not edit it any farther than i tried)
Raccoon
by Lamar Sorrento
i had helped a neighbor dispose of a giant dead raccoon, and I had put it in an old Amazon box
that I had, and I placed it on the curb.
i went in the house and called the city’s Dead Animal Pickup, but I
found out they quit picking up dead animals at 1 PM everyday.
jesus, I thought, this thing is gonna
stink to high heaven by tomorrow in this terrible heat.
i decided to haul the box over to the
church across the street later and dump it in their garbage dumpster, which I knew would be emptied
that night by the bi-weekly garbage truck, no one the wiser.
Feeling good about myself.
‘Gee…i’m glad I found the racoon a way out of here…out of the neighborhood...to lie in peace
somewhere--a garbage dump is peaceful, I guess?'
But then later that night i was thinking,
"gee, I hope that raccoon doesn’t smell so bad that the truck
driver stops the truck to see where all the stink is coming from. his normal load is papers and lunch
room trash, not dead bodies. I know he picks up garbage for a living but this raccoon outstinked
anything that I had ever smelled…ever…it’s a dead body! not cantaloupe…dead animals are the
king of all stink!"
The truck driver’s name is Bruno….well, he stops the truck on Peabody near Cleveland, pulls over to the
curb, angrily gets out and straining his huge nasty torso, he climbs up the side of the garbage-laden
dump truck.
And he wades down among the trash…
there are some stenches for sure!
but he is used to most
of the smells, but this new smell is monstrous, one of the worst ever.
gad, he takes out a
flashlight…and his keen nostrils soon lead him to the offending box…eureka! god almighty, the
stink!
‘oh I see…exclaimed Bruno… some dork put a dead giant raccoon in this box and stuck me with it….haha
very funny…..i almost fainted from the stink..!!..let’s see here…..hmmmm…name on the box says
…..Sorrento on York ave…well, well…we’ll pay mr. sorrento a quick visit’…’too bad the street number got
covered up in some ketchup and I cant read the whole thing..!!!!'
he drooled an evil nasty grin, showing
off his greenish teeth glaring like rotten pieces of onion and , clutching the evil box , smell and all, he
climbed out of the truck and got into the cab and drove off in a silent rage…
‘let’s head down York Ave and see if this Sorrento is around’…he mused.
Meanwhile, My mind said to my brain……’Jesus….the box…!!....was my name on the box?…and
address…?..oh no,…I forgot to check.!!..if that raccoon smells too ungodly strong then the driver might
freak out and find the box then easily locate me and beat me with that dead stinking raccoon which will
be quite stiff by then due to rigor mortis……god…..quick…..turn out all the lights……move the cars across
the street……make the house look deserted…turn off all the lights…all of them,,,,,don’t make any
sounds…..turn off the tv…turn off the oven ,as well…
Breathless, i am just getting back from moving the cars out of sight across the street when a large
nasty sanitation dump truck pulls right up to where I am standing…a gorilla type man leans out the
window…
‘say brother……would you know a guy named Sorrento on this street…’..it was Bruno..
My heart jumped into my throat and it hid in a closet…..i couldn’t breath….
After what seems an eternity….i stammer out…..’uh….no I don’t think so.,..i don’t think…no I don’t know
him……..’..i’m pretty sure’
Bruno glares at me…..’pretty sure huh’’’??!!
I begin walking backwards and stumbling….i cry out……”uh,,,,,,ah ,,,,oh yea…him…..now I
remember,,,,yes, he died….he’s dead…pretty sure, yea….died ..yea’’’
‘what are you doing out here alone in this dark….memphis aint so safe…something could happen to a
guy , you know’..said Bruno..in a suddenly friendly but fake tone..
‘Well..i was just…. walking…you know……’….i said ‘, all the while imaging myself being soundly beaten
like a baby mule with a giant stinking raccoon…..
‘you live around here?’ Bruno said, sounding more angry now…
‘me….?...no….i live …over on…….Harbert…….’
‘harbert……lotta rich assholes over there….you rich,…..?....got any pets…?…you ..any yo neighbors got
any pet animals…?...like, you know, wild animals..”
‘animals…?...ahh no…naw I don’t think so….one my neighbors ….got a goldfish pond’
‘goldfish…!...them tings attract raccoons , I know that…’..Bruno’s eyes lit up..with dark undershadows.
‘You seen any raccoons around here…’?
‘ ‘nope..cant say I have’…….what color…?’
Bruno stared at me silently for quite a while…..i kept backing up trying not to fall over backwards.
‘well you have a good night , sir ‘ Bruno said with a sideways sloppy grin. ‘ I guess i will have to search
elsewhere, because I WILL find this guy …’
My throat closed up tighter…I was dying from no air..
I watched him pull off and I felt better…..i relaxed some….then,,…
Then..about 8 houses down the street, I saw his brake lights come on…they looked like the eyes of a
radioactive monster….….he stopped…!
He was right in front of the mystery house…the one on my street that no one exactly knows who lives
there. They have a 6 ft iron fence with sharp spikes on top and a gate with razor wire on top…….several
extremely mean dogs….a rebel flag….and various and sundry 4runners and Jeeps and off-road type
trucks….with big lights on them..and skulls and stuff stuck on them…
I watched in horror as Bruno stepped down from the cab…he had a box under his right arm….the
box…!!..he had my Amazon box!!!..…….i used all the eye peering pressure i could muster……as he
turned, ….God …..I could see there was a label on the box….
god that was the raccoon box…
My horror grew exponentially as Bruno walked to the fence and non-chalantly heaved the box over into
the yard…in the yard…!!!!!!...into the yard from hell….a dead raccoon in a box with my name and
address on it……this is going to get way worse very fast…I felt as if my spine was flagpole.
Bruno was driving off…..i tried to grab my breath…..what do I do..?..if those dogs get that dead raccoon
out of that box ..the box with my name and address on it….i am dead…..really dead….these guys could
be meth head terrorist assassins……or just normal mean rednecks,..i smelled doom and it smelled worse
than the raccoon ever did..
I felt a cold sweat envelope my body like an frozen Tommy Copper body suit..which I guess, handily, I
could be buried in also,…..then suddenly I sprinted, not walked down to the mystery house and stood
there…..breathing hard like a monkey with asthma.. standing in front of the fence, I could see that no
dogs were out but I sensed movements within the house…..it was now or never…like nowsville…I had to
retrieve the box before anyone in that house found it…no matter what…
No matter what……no matter what…
The next morning the doctor at the emergency room asked me if I had been in a sword fight the night
before..
I said….’yea….but I won.’
