London Arena review from The Times

["Brian Cady" <cadyb@home.com>]

Available on line at:
http://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/0,,35729,00.html

Who you kidding?

Paul Sexton sees the mighty legend that is the Who climb some old peaks - and
plumb some new depths - at the London Arena

Even Junior's First Punk Primer spells out that in 1976, bands such as the Clash
existed to nuke old grizzlers such as the Who. Suggesting that, a quarter
century later, the leader of the former might support the remains of the latter,
in a series of soulless arena settings, would have been like nominating the
Pistols to open for Zeppelin.

In the intervening lifetime, the two extremes of Seventies rock have met in a
middle ground of survivors whose initial spark remains connected to the mains.
So no one batted an eye to see Joe Strummer guesting on the 'Oo's latest reunion
tour, and those who arrived on time at London Arena on Monday witnessed one of
the most storming warm-ups of the year.

Spurred on by his youthful band the Mescaleros, Strummer was an imposing example
of how a new wave figurehead need not become a chat-show cartoon, excelling both
on contemporary material such as Gamma Ray and Bindi Bhajee and decorated
warhorses like Rock the Casbah and I Fought the Law.

Could the body of the Who be hotwired yet again with anything like such dignity?
They have spent almost 20 years in a cryogenic state awaiting the pleasure of
the curmudgeonly Pete Townshend, but previous reformations including the
twenty-fifth anniversary tour of 1989 and the Quadrophenia pageant of 1996
revealed a remarkably healthy patient. For all the tediously unimaginative media
derision, they didn't die before they got old - so get over it.

The musicians arrived back in the old country after a successful American tour,
apparently so well reconciled that even a new Who album is not out of the
question. Their early form here suggested that, much as the Rolling Stones have
done lately, the Who have checked their emotional baggage and remembered the
early pleasures of maximum R&B. Thus they began with a convincingly brisk and
unadorned re-creation of the early days with I Can't Explain, Substitute and
Anyway Anyhow Anywhere. Townshend welcomed us to the "bumhole of London" and
told us to f off - the sort of abuse that was strangely reassuring.

What unfolded thereafter was quite unmissable but also troublingly uneven. There
were treats, such as Bargain, Behind Blue Eyes and a genuinely jaw-dropping bass
solo by John Entwistle during 5.15, and in the wake of Townshend's recent
revival of the Lifehouse project came welcome reassessments of outtakes from its
original sessions, Relay and Don't Even Know Myself.

But Roger Daltrey has remained a magnificently lusty frontman for so long, it
was hard to face that he was now falling at some vocal hurdles, the strain
sometimes showing in his expression, while Townshend seemed bent on distorting
some of his undying classics into long and unnecessary jams like some
dust-covered FM radio axeman.

During the encore, Daltrey strapped on an acoustic guitar and was considerably
more at ease, even mastering a falsetto detail at the end of a winning The Kids
Are Alright. However, the elongation effect was especially upsetting on the
closing My Generation, which started out with fuel injection in the outside lane
but ended up puttering along lamely on the hard shoulder. The Who had arrived in
an MG, but left in a bubble car.
Copyright 2000 Times Newspapers Ltd.

        -Brian in Atlanta
         The Who This Month!
        http://members.home.net/cadyb/who.htm