28th December 'Guardian' review

[neil@thirdstone.demon.co.uk (neil mortimer)]

Today's 'Guardian' includes the following review by Caroline Sullivan of
one of last week's shows by our boys. It doesn't say it was the Wednesday
show, but it obviously was 'cos all instruments remained intact on
Thursday!

A band that won't fade away
The Who, Shepherd's Bush Empire, 5 stars (which, according to the banner,
translates as 'unmissable')
        All three surviving members have boyish figures, two are still
blessed with luxuriant rock star tresses and they can command £35 for a
ticket in the furthest balcony. Bet the Who - combined age 165 - are
congratulating themselves on failing to die before they got old. Alone of
their 60s peers, they're enjoying a stylish middle age unsullied by new
albums or annual reunions, refusing to capitalise on the Britpop 90s'
fixation with the 60s. The excitement generated by two Christmas shows on
their home turf of Shepherd's Bush, their most intimate concerts in 25
years, was epitomised by the man who spent most of Wednesday's gig holding
up a mobile phone to let a friend share the vibe.
        Roger Daltrey, Pete Townshend and John Entwistle repaid the
devotion with the ultimate compliment: a two-hour set consisting of the
hits and nothing but the hits. No obscure album tracks, no excerpts - phew
- from Townshend's current six-CD Lifehouse project, just the sparkling
jewels in their crown.
        Liam Gallagher, watching stone-faced from the circle, may well have
been calculating the likelihood of Oasis, who share more of an affinity
with the rumbustious Who than they do with the Beatles, ever matching this
band's tally of classic songs.
        The answer is that they probably won't, unless Noel suddenly
develops a political and spiritual consciousness that imparts deeper layers
of meaning to his heat-seeking pop anthems. Townshend did just that in his
day, and his songs retain an eternally youthful glint that's no less
relevant now, even if the messengers are grey-haired and have to catch
their breath between numbers.
        That said, Daltrey sounds remarkably young; close your eyes during
Substitute, and The Kids are Alright and he could be the Mod peacock of the
'maximum R&B' days. He seems barely older on the hippie rallying cries of
Won't Get Fooled Again and Baba O'Riley, swinging his mike with a vim that
must have cost him dearly afterwards. Townshend is his auncular foil,
alternating those patented windmill movements with brisk banter: 'We
haven't rehearsed anything, we've been too busy in Antigua'.
        The professorial Entwistle and Ringo Starr's drummer son Zak kept
up their end of things with more flash than you'd expect of a rhythm
section, holding their own against the stronger personalities up front.
        When Townshend smashed his guitar during the closing My Generation,
it crystallised the impression that I'd formed over the preceding two hours
- that it's possible to reform, retain your dignity and even leave Liam
Gallagher speechless with envy.

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