Its instrumental excesses, "Quadrophenia" stays aloft on brisk, primary-color melodies and the power of its story. The protagonist feels real. Townshend uses him to explore the questions of identity that have always obsessed him. Do human beings have a core personality, or are we all hiding behind an eminence front? When the badges you wear are taken away, who are you?

Unlike the Quadrophenia Tour of '96, which used guest vocalists to take on the opera's many roles, Quadrophenia and More was sung almost entirely by Townshend and Daltrey. (Pete's brother Simon, who also played guitar, briefly took a lead, too.)

This made the tale tougher to follow for the uninitiated, but drove home the set's musical coherence. Images of Mods and Rockers and London in the 1960s flashed on circular screens behind the group and clips of the young members of the Who in action underscored the autobiographical tone of "Quadrophenia." But by the second half of the rock opera, those had been drowned by footage of the sea. These reinforced both the water symbolism that trickles through the story and the oceanic sound of the group at full volume.

The difficulty in staging "Quadrophenia" in 2012 is that two of the musicians who contributed to its density and design are no longer alive. Bassist John Entwistle and drummer Keith Moon were total originals and true innovators: Their styles have been imitated by thousands of other musicians, but they've never been fully approximated. Zac Starkey, son of Ringo Starr, did his best Moon imitation at the Barclays Center; he got all the fills right, but the lunatic abandon wasn't quite there. Session bassist Pino Palladino tried to step into Entwistle's shoes, and from time to time, he did channel some of that characteristic stampeding-elephant rumble. He did not, however, attempt the bass solo on "5:15." Instead, a video was shown of Entwistle smacking and bending his strings, making the bass chuckle and scream.

Daltrey took full possession of the narrative of "Quadrophenia," pacing himself intelligently and gathering his strength for the pushes on the big rock numbers. "Quadrophenia" ends in a paradox: The main character is stranded on a rock in the middle of the sea. He's finally found himself — or a version of himself — but has become a solitary man. "Love, Reign o'er Me," which dramatizes this dilemma, has always been a showcase for Daltrey, and he nailed the serene verses, the howling choruses and the climactic scream that puts an exclamation point on the end of the rock opera. "Love" has a tidal pull; Daltrey approached it with the reverence due to all natural phenomena, and was rewarded.