By David L. Berk

Tribune Staff Writer

As The Who’s “Tommy” suite nears its climax, Roger Daltrey stands isolated, head down, beneath three crossed spotlights. Behind him the music swells even louder and he lifts his head and begins to sing, “Touch Me, Feel Me.”

Suddenly from the stage dart lights. A crimson beam carves a mobius-strip on the wall high above the Salt Palace arena. Pencil beams of light engrave lines on the wall, weaving patterns of green and blue.

The sound reaches its ultimate level and as it does a bank of floodlights bathes the audience. 14,000 people stand spotlighted, waving their arms and cheering, while from the upper rim of the hall still more light sweeps back and forth, back and forth.

This is superb rock and superb theater, a stunning climax to a hell of a concert. It is also politically disturbing, since at this moment, having duplicated Albert Speer’s design for the Nuremburg rally, the charismatic Mr. Daltrey holds this mass of humanity in the palm of his hand.

And in recognition of this The Who chose for their next tune something as far from politics as one could imagine. The teeny topper anthem of the late ’50s, Eddie Cochran’s “Summertime Blues.” They are as blessed as they are talented.

What does The Who have that the Steve Gibbons Band, which opened the show Thursday night, does not? Almost everything. Leaving aside questions of talent The Who are professionals, they have played together for years. Their sound is seamless.

The Who is driven by perhaps the best rock drummer I have ever heard, the irrepressible Keith Moon, whose style, quick hands and theatricality are reminiscent of Basie’s one-time driver, Sonny Payne; he even flips his sticks as Payne used to do.

John Entwistle provides a solid bottom for the group with his bass guitar. Pete Townshend writes most of the tunes and Roger Daltrey sings and poses. We can excite a crowd simply by standing, head down, arms outstretched. Christ-like, more than most singers can tearing their lungs out.