PONTIAC — Put 42,000 ardent rock fans in an enclosed stadium together with a band which has been giving them hit after hit song for 15 years one would expect pandemonium.

That was not the case Friday night at the Silverdome where the more than two-hour performance of The Who proved rather anticlimatic in light of the 11 deaths of Monday’s Who concert in Cincinnati.

It took a while for the free-flowing exchange of energy to occur which is usually expected from a band and a gathering of hysteria-prone rockers.

Within the familiar and driving framework of “Substitute,” “I Can’t Explain” and “Teen-age Wasteland,” Who band members, vocalist Roger Daltry spinning his microphone about and guitarist Peter Townshend jumping randomly tried to cut through the somber mood which hung over the crowd. It was as if the gathering feared losing its inhibitions.

The festive air of massive concerts was curiously missing. “I just could not believe how orderly this crowd has been,” said Gerry Baron, head of promotion and security at the Silverdome. “I can’t explain why the hallways were almost empty during the show. Normally, regardless of the act, 10 percent of the house roams around. I don’t know if Cincinnati will continue to have this kind of effect on crowds around the country.”

For as much as the band tried to forget about the tragedy in Cincinnati, its very stage presence unconsciously projected a sense of preoccupation. During the first part of the set, Daltry and Townshend pleaded with the crowd at the base of the stage to move back.

The recent deaths in Ohio are yet another obstacle the band has had to face during its stormy career. It has survived the drug-overdose death of original drummer Keith Moon, now replaced by Kenney Jones; a 40 percent hearing loss in Townshend, and the public demand for something and someone new.

The introduction of keyboard sideman John “Rabbit” Bundrick and a three-piece horn section, along with the band’s mocking of the “plastic dance craze,” helped build spirits.

Material from “Quadrophenia,” including a brief film teaser, carried the momentum. The gathering had a good time despite the lingering gloom.

Who standards from “Long Live Rock,” “I Can See For Miles,” “My Generation” and “Pinball Wizard” assaulted the memories of the older (late 20 and early 30s) members of the audience.

Well timed and ignited smoke bombs added to the enthusiasm. Glaring spotlights into the crowd revealed the sea of fans caught up in the frenzy of the evening. The Who entertained the crowd as much as it could have done. Even with the aftermath of Cincinnati, the roar of the crowd was deafening.

As the band expressed the theme in its semi-documentary, the kids are all right.

Usually The Who does not use a warm-up act. The opening set of Blackfoot, originally a Florida-based group recently transplanted to Ann Arbor, proved a pleasant surprise.