THE WHO, reigning monarchs of traditional British electric-rock music, began their three-concert engagement in the Oakland Coliseum Arena last night before a sold-out crowd that had, for the most part, more enthusiasm than the performing bandsmen.

By any other general standards of rock-concert excellence, the 100 minutes of Who music was great sound defined; for The Who it was merely a good show.

There was something missing, for sure. Perhaps (and who could blame them) they were tired — last night’s was early-on in a short concert segment but even so, a group as energetic as The Who is bound to gradually lose its strength as the days and weeks move along.

In addition, new drummer Kenny Jones (replacing the late Keith Moon) has a less driving, less theatrical style — and it tends to dampen some of the delightful excesses that used to identify guitarist Peter Townshend and singer Roger Daltry. And, perhaps, The Who is still nervous about arena shows after the audience-trampling horror at Cincinnati. Last night, indeed, they may have been concerned about reported counterfeit tickets floating through the Coliseum.

(Apparently the bogus tickets were in miniscule quantities — but the story of a potential thousands of illegal ducats certainly gained huge publicity for the concert.)

Last night was, by my count, my 11th Who concert. Beginning with Monterey Pop (67) and moving through Winterland, the Cow Palace, Civic Aud., Berkeley Community, Fillmore West and other venues, I’ve pretty much absorbed The Who’s musical train of thought.

Last night they seemed to be presenting a cross-section — and not, surprisingly, necessarily of their best stuff. They did 17 selections, a bit light compared to shows on earlier versions of this tour) and in many instances not fully up to Who standards.

Daltry now is sporting a close-cropped Roman classic haircut, a beach-comber shirt, and jeans; he’s still a master mike-twirler, using at least a 10-foot radius of the mike chord to set his mike into orbit. Bassist John Entwistle, in conservative white suit and as anonymous as ever, remains one of the most solid bassists in rock.

And Townshend — well, he’s an original; even having lost much weight, and appearing bored with some of his anticipated guitar-playing gymnastics, he’s still a charismatic rock character. An interesting singer, and interpreter of rock and blues lyrics, he’s always a good and steady instrumentalist.

The show began with “Substitute” and ended, quite abruptly, with the arena lights going on at 10:52 p.m. at the end of a long and excellent exposition of “Won’t Get Fooled Again.” The audience accepted the Kafka-like arena drenching effect of the lights but it certainly dampened any expectation of an encore.

“Long Live Rock.” The Who played, toward the end of the show — following a combined “Pinball Wizard” and “See Me, Feel Me.”

Unusually, the more obscure “5:15” which preceded that trilogy, came on as one of the evening’s best renditions. The Who has always been good at trad-rock, two-four style and, as a matter of fact, “Drowned,” which was also toward the presentation’s end, was as neat a rock sound mix as we’ve heard in some time.

“My Generation” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” finished off the show (no encore) but they weren’t necessarily the musical climax – that came, probably, with “Drowned,” and “Who Are You?” or perhaps with the extended “Music Must Change.”

A brass trio joined The Who on a few numbers and, as all Who-heads know, John “Rabbit” Bundrick is now the fifth Who member — playing all manner of electric keyboards.

For the largely young Coliseum audience to see The Who is, of course, of importance in itself. A band that has never emphasized production over music, The Who still can be the most musically attractive group around. They are solid, and compelling, without being ridiculous — even their use of Kleig lights (facing the audience) and occasional smoke bombs is discreet.

Last night, however, it was The Who as an accepted fact of musical life — not brilliant, not superhuman (I’ve heard them as both) but, rather, just a good rock band. A better-than-average rock band; in fact, a better-than-almost-any-other rock band.

And, as I sit in the first early-morning hour contemplating the show, I’d say that the best of The Who these days seems to be Daltry — where his colleagues seem, or at least seemed last night, to have lost some of the old rock fight. Daltry continues to knock himself out.

Strange, that as rock seems to be pulling itself toward the punkish hard instrumental sound The Who relies more and more on the rather traditional approach of a veteran singing stylist.

Audience response was generous, I thought; there were no “incidents,” no stage-charges down the aisles, very few difficulties of any kind.

The Who’s Peter Townshend, left, was more subdued in his antics than normal, but singer Roger Daltry, center, displayed some of the old Who spark. Bassist John Entwhistle was all decked out in a white suit in last night’s sold-out performance at the Oakland Coliseum. Sorry. Two more shows, but no more tickets

Examiner / Walt Lynott