The 1980s were a brutal decade artistically for the guiding lights of the 1960s. In the aftermath of John Lennon’s assassination, Paul McCartney floundered increasingly as the decade wore on. Neil Young and Joni Mitchell alienated both fans and their respective record labels. The classic lineup of Pink Floyd released one last gloomy album before raining lawsuits down on each other for most of the decade. The Rolling Stones hit their career nadir with Dirty Work in the middle of the decade. And Bob Dylan, perhaps the greatest songwriter of the 20th century, turned in albums and concerts that can largely be seen as uneven, at best.
No longer pop stars, or cultural touchstones, and not yet the “classic rock” legacy artists who’d find new creative footing as elder statesmen and women who would go on to dominate the live concert landscape in the early 21st century, the artists who’d soundtracked the Golden Age of rock and roll floundered as technology, MTV and pop culture in general conspired to leave them all largely frustrated, both creatively and commercially.
That is, except for Pete Townshend.
