'The Who' — Some Musical Fireworks With A Short Fuse

By Pete Bishop

Hooray for Pete Townshend.

After a few firecrackers had exploded high over the floor at the sold-out Civic Arena last night about half an hour into The Who's concert, the legendary quartet's guitarist stepped to his mike and said:

"Whatever color your eyes are, whether they're blue or brown or green, you're lucky to have them. This firework thing has got to go."

It's way past time anyone asinine enough to toss a lighted firecracker into a crowd got a blast from a performer of Townshend's stature. (And it was effective; the firecrackers stopped right then).

And it would have been a pity had firecrackers spoiled the evening, for The Who hadn't played here in more than a decade and the crowd of more than 17,000, the second such crowd the Arena has had in the past 10 days, was very well-behaved otherwise.

Actually, the firecrackers were superfluous — The Who brought along more than enough musical and staging fireworks of their own.

How tempting it would have been for a supergroup, knowing the hall had been sold out far in advance, to go through the motions, take their money and split. But such was not the story last night.

For more than two hours, The Who delivered. If Fleetwood Mac was a rock 'n' roll powerhouse at the Arena last Monday, The Who were that and more. Aside from a few ballad passages in songs, they never let up.

Oh, time has changed The Who, all right. There's no more guitar-smashing by Townshend, and singer Roger Daltrey is not the vocal fireball he once was; he cannot hit and hold high notes authoritatively (that's understandable, though; you can't expect 16 years of belting it out to leave your pipes unmarred).

(under photo) ROGER DALTREY Still packs vocal punch.

But Townshend, whether power-chording or ripping off flash-fingered runs, certainly still can play his guitar, hop and be-bop around the stage and leap into the air with legs a-flying in scissors kicks and near-splits.

And Daltrey, clad like the no-nonsense tough guy his band role has always been in a black T-shirt and blue jeans, still packs plenty of vocal punch (when you could hear him — more on that later) and can twirl his mike like a lasso, flip it back toward him and catch it with the best of them. Not bad for a couple of 34-year-olds.

Of course, the biggest change in The Who is that Kenney Jones has replaced the late Keith Moon, rock's best drummer. Jones is a strong drummer, more overstated than Moon, and it's good that he is — we heard a lot of him last night.

The sound system was not all that hot. Daltrey and Townshend, the few times he sang lead, often were drowned out by the instruments, usually Jones's drums.

That could have been fatal when the first hour of your show (not counting the 10-minute "commercial" for "Quadrophenia," the new film based on The Who's '73 album of that name) contains largely lesser known songs, as The Who's did.

Energy, skill and staging — and, let's be blunt, reputation — saved that hour and such numbers as "Substitute," "Teenage Wasteland," "Boris the Spider" and "Sister Disco."

Personality helped, too. Bassist John Entwistle, who stood stoically at stage right most of the night, introduced "Boris" in sepulchral tones; "The Steelers did it again," Townshend crowed to a roar of approval ("And tomorrow night we play in Cincinnati," Daltrey added jocularly to a huge boo of disapproval); "Sister Disco" sported three large rotating circles of spotlights, one over Jones, two over the fans near the stage.

"Who Are You" was the first familiar number, Townshend getting some slower picking time and some power chord time and Daltrey jogging in place while singing.

The second hour was a "Who's Greatest Hits," like the excellent "Pinball Wizard" segueing into "See Me, Feel Me," faster and harder than on "Tommy" and backed by three horns, the lights on the audience for a massive sing-along which netted The Who a standing ovation.

(The Who also had a very able keyboardist, but they omitted his name in their press kit and you couldn't hear it when Townshend introduced him. Sorry, pal).

"My Generation," that early, unschooled teen manifesto, with Daltrey stammering the vocals and fine bass lines by Entwistle, and a hard version of "I Can See for Miles" preceded the only all-instrumental, "Underture" from "Tommy," Daltrey bashing two tambourines together as Townshend took windmill swipes with his right hand at his guitar strings.

BLAM! went four blinding flash pots atop some speakers onstage (like Fleetwood Mac, most of The Who's speakers were suspended from the ceiling so as not to block fans' views; that's class) for a long concert version of another excellent Who rocker, "Won't Get Fooled Again."

For an encore, The Who did a double: a long, hard concert rendition of "Magic Bus," with more flying-fingers guitar from Townshend, who bounced around like a skinny, bearded bunny, and some very good bluesy harmonica from Daltrey, and the only "ringer," "Dancin' in the Street," Townshend singing stronger vocals than Daltrey.