"Parts of it are brilliantly exciting, parts are unbelievably crazy and dissonant, like some kind of proto-Sonic Youth noise band." - Bob Lee, The Los Angeles Beat
This is a very roughly edited compilation of some of the noisiest, heaviest and most cathartic moments from The Who's show at the Fillmore East, NYC, April 6th, 1968. The image is a still from the few seconds of video available. Below is an eyewitness account of the ending:
"I can say without a doubt, no guitar has ever suffered the way that silver Strat did ... I’d estimate that the ritual destruction took no less than five full-blast minutes.
(...) He took to standing at the very edge of the stage, his back to us, hurling the guitar, neck-first, like a spear, at the grill clothes of the Marshall cabinets. He actually seemed to be attempting to embed the guitar’s neck like an arrow in a target. Damn thing kept bouncing onto the floor! All the while, plugged in, of course, with the distortion pedal engaged. Huge indescribably luscious noise!
Pete grabbed his mic stand and for the first time, I saw him do the mic-stand-as-violin-bow trick with the Strat tucked under his chin. He then threw both the stand and the Strat to the stage. He got on his knees, and using the tipped-on-its-side mic-stand base as his tool, holding it flat, facing up, Pete started trying to split the guitar’s body by banging it against this round perpendicular chunk of metal. No go!
He stood up, threw the guitar to the stage, picked up said mic-stand and started smashing the Strat as with a sledgehammer. Raising the base of the stand 3 feet above his head and just slamming that Fender. The guitar was shrieking and groaning and with each hit another weird ugly wail or bark raged!
Oh, yes, of course, Keith and Ox were just absolutely roaring away through all of this. Complete aural bedlam! Once the guitar’s body finally gave way, Pete seemed to just go off the deep end.
Like an excited little kid, he gathered up the pieces of silver wood and made a pile onstage. He then took up the mic stand again and proceeded to smash the three or four large chunks of silver wood into... fucking kindling! When the mic-stand broke from this battering, he fell back to his knees and continued to bash ever-smaller chunks into smithereens with just the heavy round stand-base.
Meanwhile, the Strat’s pickguard with its three pickups was laying onstage, still plugged in, and sending out this static-y morse code. Pete realized it was making noise, picked it up and played bongos on the live pickups for a few seconds, tossed that aside, and then scooped up the (tiny) pieces, handfuls of crap that was once a stunning electric guitar, and threw the stuff into the aisle I was sitting on. I dived as if sliding into home as dozens of bits hit the aisle’s carpeting. I came away with a tremolo spring, a tuning peg, and a sliver of wood with one side silver lacquer, about an inch and a half long, half an inch wide.
Ephemera of my religion." - Binky Philips, Huffington Post
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