As The Who moved into the second half of its nearly two hour performance Wednesday at the St. Paul Civic Center, a bank of floodlights flashed on, drenching the wall-to-wall crowd with a bright white blaze.

"Listening to you, I get the music."

The crowd — representing every faction of rock fandom — from heavy metal headbangers to new wave dancers, from those too young to remember to those too old to forget — erupted into a surge of smiles and swaying arms; 16,836 pairs of raised arms swayed joyously with the beat.

"Gazing at you, I feel the beat."

Pete Townshend flashed out a frenzied guitar break before exploding into a flying duckwalk — Baryshnikov does Berry. Roger Daltrey, all close-cropped hair and studied sinews, feverishly paced in place, building momentum along with the rhythmic undercurrent of bass man John Entwistle and drummer Kenny Jones. A faceless pianist (John Bundrick) and horn section filled out the already packed arrangement.

"Following you, I climb the mountain."

The song, from the 1969 rock opera "Tommy," was a celebration of and for The Who's fans. And as the old "dinosaur pit" rumbled with the music, a feeling of total elation, rock 'n roll community, swept over the hall. It was an ecstatic moment, a testament to the power of rock at its best — a testament to The Who.

"I find excitement at your feet."

The Who, more than any other band, symbolizes the positive attributes of rock — as a vehicle for purposeful rage, affirmative politics, defiance, truthful art, community ecstasy and personal salvation.

The band has fought the good fight on rock's front lines for more than 15 years. Initially, they were the mouthpiece of the British Mod movement; later, the founding fathers of British art rock; then the cynics pointing out the hypocrisy of the Woodstock generation; the unwitting precipitators of the heavy metal movement, and, more recently, champions of the new wave music they anticipated with their first singles.

The Who, of course, has never had a higher public profile. Over the past two years, the band has produced two critically acclaimed films ("The Kids Are Alright" and "Quadrophenia") and its first studio album of new material since 1975 ("Who Are You"). And in 1979, founding member Keith Moon, the preeminent rock drummer, died. When The Who finally decided to resume touring last year, one of its concerts ended in tragedy, with 11 young fans dead in Cincinnati.

When the crowd in St. Paul, which remained on its feet throughout the concert, pressed too close to the stage, Daltrey pleaded for caution: "If you people down in front can remember that these others can't come any further forward, it'd be helpful."

Moon's absence forced Townshend and Daltrey to be the only visual focuses on stage. Kenny Jones, formerly of the Small Faces (another early Mod group), is a fine time-keeper and actually quite a "jazzy" filler, but he has none of the comic flair, the flamboyance or sheer energy of his predecessor. Jones' journeyman persona also affected bassist Entwistle, whose usually staid, quiet persona blended even further into the background.

The relationship between Townshend and Daltrey was eerily reminiscent of the roles Keith Richard and Mick Jagger have played in the Rolling Stones since the death of guitarist Brian Jones.

This isn't to say that the singer and the guitarist didn't rise to the occasion. Daltrey, who in the past has seemed a mite clumsy and actually timid, seemed to be truly enjoying himself. He was in great voice, singing better than he has in past Twin Cities concerts, especially on the selections from "Who Are You" ("Sister Disco," "The Music Must Change" and the title track).

Townshend, always the most visual member of The Who, was in high spirits also — jiggling and leaping around the stage, crashing to his knees on cue and hurling his windmill guitar slashes.

Musically, Townshend excelled during the more intricate work from the two epic operas ("5:15," "Drowned" and "The Real Me" from "Quadrophenia," and "Pinball Wizard," "Underture" and "See Me, Feel Me" from "Tommy").

Although he played them note-perfect, sporadically hinting at splendor, Townshend seemed to distance himself from The Who classics — anthems from the singles period ("Substitute," "I Can See for Miles" and, especially, "My Generation," a song that whimpered where a bang was expected) and those from the early '70s ("Baba O'Riley," "Behind Blue Eyes," "Rock Is Dead" and the finale, "Won't Get Fooled Again").

Despite these shortcomings — and in light of the entire performance, they were minor — the concert asserted The Who's staying power and musical strength. And though a dearth of new material leaves one wondering about the future, The Who's mastery of stadium rock and their development of great art within the canons of the music is unmatched.

"I find excitement at your feet."

(The Who will perform at the Civic Center again this evening. That concert is also sold out.)

(Tim Carr is associate director of performing arts at Walker Art Center.)