Growing up, I had a room next to my oldest brother, and when he would get stoned and listen to records in his room, I would lie on the heater vent in my room and listen to outrageous rock 'n' roll worlds through the ducts of our furnace. It was during one of these duct sessions that I first heard the music of the Who. I think it was probably "Baba O'Riley" or "Won't Get Fooled Again" that caught my attention, but for once it wasn't only about hearing a cool rock 'n' roll song. I was distinctly hearing four individuals--who were conducting fierce battle with one another. I remember hearing Pete Townshend describe the Who as four maniacs competing for attention by playing simultaneous solos. On that day, in my duct, the band fit that image: The drummer was playing 12 songs at a time, the guitar player sounded a bit broken, the singer screamed bloody murder, and the bass player sounded like he was playing lead guitar--on a bass!

Fast-forward to last Thursday, when we were suddenly saddened by news of the death of the Who's bass player, John Entwistle, a.k.a. the Ox. He died of an apparent heart attack at the age of 57, on the eve of what was to be the Who's 2002 summer tour. It's a tragedy for a million different reasons. Like George Harrison of the Beatles, Entwistle seemed to represent his band just as much as the more overt members--which says a great deal when you consider how such a quiet man could hold his own next to the likes of Pete Townshend and Keith Moon.

Now I think it's time we all put down The Stranger, go listen to our favorite Who records for a couple of days, and remind ourselves not to take life for granted. Fifty-seven years of it is simply not enough.