In 1980, as so many 1960s rock veterans struggled to find footing in the ruins left by punk, Pete
Townshend released “Empty Glass,” a bold and bracing album that stood with the best the new
breed had to offer. Tracks such as “Rough Boys” both embraced and challenged the youngsters
while “I Am an Animal” and the title track found Pete baring his soul powerfully and
unashamedly. Chris Thomas’ lean but muscular production was the ideal match for
Townshend’s best batch of tunes in years.

So what to make of the follow-up, 1982’s “All the Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes”? The title’s
insensitivity is matched by its apparent lack of connection to anything on the album.
Townshend looks like Savile Row’s idea of a New Romantic on the cover. That fashion
statement foreshadows the album itself, which abandons the rough and ready approach of
“Empty Glass” for arching synthesizers, swelling choruses and lyrical headscratchers such as
“The Sea Refuses No River” and “Stardom in Action.”

It will likely come as no shock that the two years separating the albums weren’t Townshend’s
finest. His drug use blossomed into full-blown heroin addiction and an unrequited obsession
with actress Theresa Russell became humiliating public knowledge. On top of that, Townshend
was still reeling from the 1978 death of Who drummer Keith Moon and the horrific events of
The Who’s 1979 concert in Cincinnati at which several fans were killed.

So maybe buying some fancy shirts, getting a goofy haircut and spilling his guts with the help of
an over-used thesaurus weren’t his worst reactions.

“All the Best Cowboys” is bloated, pretentious and sometimes cringe-worthy. But you’ll believe
every bloated, pretentious and cringe-worthy moment of it.

Sincerity rarely counts for much in rock ‘n’ roll but it’s Townshend’s saving grace here. The
spoken portions of opener “Stop Hurting People” may baffle, but Townshend’s delivery
confirms that it all means – something. Conversely, “Somebody Saved Me” is almost too
specific in its remembrance of a twisted romance. Regardless of Townshend’s approach, he
sounds absolutely compelled to tell his tales.

The music, for the most part, lacks the short, sharp shock most associated with Townshend,
with the void filled by rich melodies, sumptuous choruses and a deep, cinematic production
(Chris Thomas again, ably switching gears). That said, “Communication” features an out-of-
nowhere guitar solo that is Townshend at his violent, anarchic and auto-destructive best.

It’s a mess. It’s beautiful. And after decades of convoluted concept pieces, increasingly wan
Who albums and the endless cycle of farewell and reunion tours, it’s most likely the last major
musical statement we’ll hear from Townshend.

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