Word: wailful
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Beck repeats it deep, and the band is together again in a coherent ball of jarring, flaring sound. Beck takes off once more on guitar careening over into a feedback wail, he stops, scratches twice, Hopkins and Waller supply connecting riffs, Beck plays a horn blast. Amid all this discord, Beck, stroke of genius, does a willowing eddy of tune straight out of B.B. King. An abrupt stop again, Beck thumps the side of his guitar and bounces on his knees, Waller slams down harshly twice, Beck reels off long liquid strings picking up the early song tune. He starts...
...that "the country was in a throe, a species of eschatological heave." It may seem obvious, but Mailer's writing overcomes the triteness inherent in describing hog-butchering Chicago as the setting for confrontation; he succeeds in connecting the cries of the bloodied hippies to the eerie death wail of the gutted cattle. "Chicago was a town where nobody could ever forget how the money was made," he writes. "It was picked up from the floors still slippery with blood, and if one did not protest and take a vow of vegetables, one knew at least that life...
...police," "Change the world," "Abolish the state." This goes on far too long. The Living Theater persistently confuses duration with intensity. As the shouted responses turn the house into a kind of cathedral of the absurd, the cast moves onstage, forms a circle, and utters a low, collective, unrelenting wail. At Yale, student after student, grave of mien and with Viet Nam in mind, climbed up onstage and joined the circle. In revival terms, it was rather like making a "decision for Christ...
...launch into their wail ing finale, My Generation ("I hope I die before I get old"), strange things do begin to happen. Clunk! Lead Singer Roger Daltrey flings the microphone to the floor, wheels around and begins flailing at the drums played by Keith Moon. Crack! Peter Townshend breaks his guitar against the stage, jumps on it, then splinters it against a speaker cabinet. Crash! John Entwistle heaves his bass away and joins the others in a savage orgy of kicking and pushing at the loudspeakers, the drums and the mike stand...
...Lily pictures of Lily" with no accompaniment. It is clear that this break and pause represents the boy falling in love, and in the very next verse he proclaims his love. Just after the interlude and before the song swings into gear again, Townshend plays an ominous sinister grating wail on his guitar, a sound that apears for the first and only time on the record here. This is a presentiment of what we are to learn next which is that his love is doomed and so the falling in love was a disastrous mistake...