Even the rock fan who does not particularly fancy The Who’s music may be intrigued by certain ancillary characteristics of the group.

I must confess that I belong in that category of Who-watcher. I take no special pleasure in listening to The Who, but I gladly journeyed to the New Haven Coliseum Saturday night because the group interested me. I wanted to learn more about it.

On stage, The Who suggest, through music and stage persona, that something drastic is going to happen. To a restless generation ridden with a set of problems that never seems to change, The Who’s implicit message of impending upheaval is seductive and exciting.

Furthermore, through their lyrics and demeanor on stage, the members of The Who suggest that the disenfranchised, sociopathic adolescent will play a major role in whatever upheaval takes place. The Who have always been on the side of the scruffy street kid. They have lionized the punk, and their music places the punk’s crimes, delusions, hopes, romances, wanderings and hallucinogenic states in a heroic context.

In a sense, The Who have adopted the role of many classical composers in their attempt to shed meaning on contemporary existence through contemporary rock leitmotif.

This effort has not gone unappreciated. Many members of the New Haven audience Saturday night chose to perch precariously atop rows of folding chairs for a full two and a half hours of rock music.

No mention was made by the band members of the Dec. 3 tragedy in Cincinnati, where fans storming the gates of Riverfront Coliseum to get the best unreserved seats trampled 11 of their number to death.

Opening with a powerful “Substitute,” lead vocalist Roger Daltrey roared his parts with incomparable vigor. Daltrey’s voice was the quintessence of the quality vocalists like Greg Lake and Steve Winwood strive for — urgency, thinly masked by insouciance.

Bassist John Entwhistle demonstrated the instrumental prowess that has earned him the title, in the eyes and ears of many, of rock’s premier bassist. Entwhistle is also an able vocalist, which he proved on his composition “My Wife.”

“My Wife” was also the first true showcase for the abilities of Kenney Jones, the man so many were watching. Jones is the drummer who replaced the late Keith Moon, one of the most revered drummers in the history of rock.

Moon was an innovator whose stylistic ideas blazed new trails in rock drumming. Whether Jones has that capability remains to be seen, but he left no doubt about his sheer skill as an instrumentalist. Jones was able on Saturday night to replicate all of Moon’s old rhythms, virtually beat-for-beat. Moreover, he is stronger and faster than Moon. Jones has the raw physical skill to do things Moon could only imagine.

The group’s most exciting number of the evening was “Music Must Change,” a song that used a three-man horn section and the juggernaut drumming of Jones to bring the audience to its feet.

The only boring lapses in the concert were several long guitar solos by leader Peter Townshend. Townshend is an inspiring composer, but his performing abilities are somewhat limited. His vocals are generally weak and his guitar work is choppy.

Perhaps the most appealing aspect of The Who’s concert was the obviously high level of teamwork. Rock music is becoming dominated by narcissistic individualism.

The Who, dinosaurs from the sixties, still function as a unit.