REVIEW

When the Who last visited the Hollywood Bowl, in July 2002, bassist John Entwistle had died four days earlier in a Las Vegas hotel.

Pete Townshend decided to soldier on, to the ire of many fans. The Who recruited session ace Pino Palladino to replace Entwistle, and the resulting show had all the urgency and unease of a band fighting its reputation as a soulless, overpriced nostalgia act.

Monday night at the Bowl, both Townshend and singer Roger Daltrey thanked the L.A. crowd for their support that night. More important, they rewarded the audience with a better concert that made a strong argument for the band's survival.

Daltrey, 60, in a paisley satin shirt and blue tinted sunglasses, and Townshend, 59, warding off the August chill with a black suit and gray striped muffler, ripped into their now-customary medley of '60s hits, “Can't Explain,” “Substitute” and a skillfully syncopated “Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere.” But the show really got going when they played a new song, “Real Good Looking Boy.”

Hearing the rather limp recorded version of this track, released earlier this year, one could accuse Townshend of indulging his worst traits as a songwriter. On the airwaves, “Boy” is a sentimental sop to finding joy in middle age and a stumbling tribute to Elvis Presley.

But on stage the song felt fresh and taut. It seemed to rejuvenate Daltrey, who had sounded bored during “Behind Blue Eyes,” usually a showcase for him.

Daltrey didn't falter for the rest of the night. Both he and the returning Palladino — fluid and supple throughout — shone during selections from “Quadrophenia.” Drummer Zak Starkey, who's looking and sounding more like a young Keith Moon the older he gets, played off the new bassist beautifully. Townshend's brother, the guitarist Simon, and keyboardist John “Rabbit” Bundrick rounded out the sextet.

As for Townshend, he has become what he never was in the Who's heyday with Entwistle and Moon: a phenomenal soloist. Freed from keeping rhythm in a band with an overachieving rhythm section, he unleashed scorching riffs and wrung beautiful, pained melody from his blood-red Stratocaster. He rode “Eminence Front,” normally a meek jazzy number, like a runaway locomotive, and gave “Old Red Wine,” another disappointing new song, a much-needed backbone of crashing chords. Townshend's lone acoustic number, “Drowned,” was a delight, and he is singing better than he has in years.

Throughout the evening Townshend windmilled and leaped and even assumed the splayed posture of his classic birdman pose, something he hasn't done since the days when he wore shiny jackets with ruffled cuffs. But the skinny Mod is gone, as Townshend — to paraphrase another one of his songs — seems to have worked off his recent frustrations in the gym. He is lean and mean, and as the Who wrapped up this very short leg of an ongoing tour, one actually hopes he and Daltrey take their energy into a nearby recording studio before rigor mortis sets in.