Boston Globe review

[thewho rocks <leb905@yahoo.com>]

Who's magic bus has plenty of gas left (The Who at Tweeter Center for
the Performing Arts, last night)

by Jim Sullivan, Globe Staff

Mansfield - Let's get it out of the way: The Who are geezers.  Geezers,
geezers, geezers.  Pete Townshend, John Entwistle, and Roger Daltrey. 
Geezers.   

And, what of it?  They also rock hard and bring you to emotional peaks
with what is, arguably, the best catalog of still-active rock 'n' roll
bands.  They make you smile and sweat and glad to be alive, and sad
that drummer Kieth Moon isn't among us to have given it a go in his 50s
as well.

Or so it felt last night at the packed Tweeter Center, where the three
surviving members, plus drummer Zak Starkey and long-time
sideman/keyboardist John "Rabbit" Bundrick, turned in a 2 1/2 hour show
that was about as rewarding as they come.  It started with "I can't
Explain" and closed with and extended "My Generation." (Supply your own
age-ist joke if you must - only Keith died before he got old, yada,
yada.)

However cynical you might feel about yet another Who reunion and
however much you might chafe at the $150 top ticket price, you had to
salute 'em for the quality of the work.  It was classic rock 'n' roll,
but not calcified, not a museum piece.  Townshend, looking priestly in
black, played some dazzling leads with his acoustic-electric guitar;
the leonine, still-strapping Daltrey sang his heart out; Entwhistle was
stoic and stellar as usual on bass.  Starkey was every bit the young
clone of Moon, from his mod looks to his drumming style.  Townshend
introduced "Naked Eye" as being written years ago as an onstage
composition; last night he said, "We're just gonna try to get it
right."

Mission: Accomplished.  Although Daltrey and Townshend had a great
Monty Pythonic "Argument Clinic" moment after "See Me, Feel Me:  "It
nearly worked," said Daltrey.  "No, It didn't," countered Townshend. 
"Your part always works," said Daltrey.  Back and forth it went.  Ah,
the once bickering mates were bantering.  Later hugs and kisses were
exchanged among band members.  Townshend explained: "We're old enough
now to forget the difficulties we had, which were pretty heavy."

Highlights?  Hard to choose.  Ferocious skronk-spiced versions of
"Bargain" and "Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere"; the psychedelized, jazzy,
bluesy jam on "Magic Bus"; the climactic power chords and
up-the-establishment (any establishment) rise of "Won't Get Fooled
Again"; the tension and release of the acoustic-to-electric "Behind
Blue Eyes"; the giddy buzz of the Who's last actual hit in America,
1979's "You Better You Bet"; the multilevel rush of "5;15", with its
protagonist "magically bored on a quiet street corner" and "sadly
ecstatic that the heroes are used," as the contrasts and complexities
of life descend upon him.

So it goes with the Who.  "In the old days," Dalrey said, "It used to
reek of pot from the audience; now it's cigars.  Bring back the old
days!"  Townshend, for his part, executed more than a few scissorkicks,
jumps and windmills, sometimes self-mockingly so.  This tour, in it's
early stages has to do with making money, yes, but also to do with
self-validation, as Townshend suggested when one of his guitars
remained defiantly out of tune.  The old guitar-smasher threatened to
do it in, but it wouldn't be "for you, but for me."  As it turned, he
did not destroy.  Rather, he and his mates gave us their creations.


LB

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