When the Who was releasing songs such as My Generation, Baba O'Riley and the concept album Quadrophenia, teen-age kids stood in front of mirrors in their bedrooms and jammed on the air guitar, windmilling their arms like Pete Townshend.

Twenty-five years later, those 8,000 or so people — mostly the same ones who once jammed in their bedrooms with Townshend — were watching the real thing last night at Darien Lake Performing Arts Center: Townshend, his arm slowly whipping across the guitar. And they saw lead singer Roger Daltrey slinging the microphone by its cord, as though he were trying to lasso someone. And they saw bassist John Entwistle just standing there, as usual.

Last night's show opened with the entire Quadrophenia, performing for a middle-aged wasteland that included some of the George Costanza haircuts popular with that crowd.

Quadrophenia was a spectacular, a 105-minute version that integrated sound and old and new Quadrophenia video shown on a screen high above the band.

The three surviving members of the Who were joined by two keyboard players, an extra percussionist, and a five-man horn section. Zak Starkey, son of Ringo Starr, displayed his dad's businesslike pout and filled in impressively for the late Keith Moon. And Pete Townshend’s brother, Simon, played a major role on lead guitar and handled some lead vocals as well.

Quadrophenia, the story of a young man who goes insane, was difficult to top. In fact, it’s stronger musically and more cohesive than the band’s better known rock opera, Tommy.

So the Who wrapped up the show with a set of acoustic hits, including Won’t Get Fooled Again and The Kids Are Alright.

Certainly Quadrophenia is a moment frozen in time. Not so grand that it now sounds antiquated, its shuffling, searching characters have moments that are almost operatic in stature, during songs such as The Real Me and Love, Reign O’er Me.

It was a night of songs expressing aches reserved for the young, songs falling on ears that have heard the screams of their own babies being born, songs being played by middle-aged men with aches accumulated across five decades.

What’s the point of all this? We have young bands to speak to the young these days. Are the Who reserved for reunions?

They are not. To shelve this great band is to climb in bed with the fallacy that nothing’s to be learned from experience.

Why, Townshend himself is proof enough that experience counts: One of the many lessons we’ve learned from him is that exposure to loud noise over the years will make you deaf. ❏