If Thomas Edison could have only guessed . . . .

Contemporary music is going through some heavy changes. After a solid decade of predictable transistorized ditties, the pop field is suddenly becoming aware of its value as an art form. A newly found sophistication is demanding that rock performers experiment in new sounds and dimensions, with the results being almost theatrical. The old “can’t be done” hang-ups are being replaced with inventiveness.

Saturday night’s outdoor Who concert in the Phoenix Municipal Stadium only added momentum to the movement.

BILLED AS “the group that actually destroys its instruments on stage,” the English quartet proves not to be victims of gimmickry, but serious musicians bent upon twisting electrical power into an explosive wall of sound. Through the use of drums, bass and lead guitar, they developed a furious instrumental communication which was offset by clear, well-defined vocal harmonies.

The Who’s musical agenda stayed completely in an acidy-hard rock bag which ran from the Rolling Stone’s “Fortune Teller” to the Blue Cheer’s “Summertime Blues.” The best numbers, however, consisted of their own material like “Happy Jack” (described as a “mini-opera about a campfire girl who was seduced by an engine driver”) and the newly released “Magic Bus.”

Individually you would be hard put to find any better musicians — Peter Townsend’s lead playing is as showy as Hendrix’s, drummer Keith Moon is completely solid, John Entwhistle’s bass action is always there, and lead singer Roger Daltry combines a strong voice with an exciting stage presence. Together they form one of the tightest groups in the business.

DURING their 45-minute set, the Decca recording artists managed to build an intensity much like a pressure cooker about to blow its top. As each song was completed, the frenzy was brought to a higher level, until they eventually reached the closing number, “My Generation.” It was at this point the group began to demolish all equipment on stage.