60,000 Hear What They Want From The Who

PONTIAC, Mich. — The Who said goodbye to the teenage wasteland at Pontiac Silverdome Thursday.

It was a momentous send-off for the boys from over 'one, everything these farewells should be — thousands cheered, maybe a few tears were shed, but there were certainly no regrets.

Best of all, more than 60,000 fans have an unforgettable souvenir of a rock-and-roll legend at its rock-and-roll best. And, thanks to the thoughtful addition of a video screen, they have a visual memento, too.

The Who returned to the stadium it christened as a concert venue seven years ago. It wasn't a place to hear music then, and it still isn't, as Peter Townshend remarked early: "These places weren't built for music."

BUT AGAINST the odds of horrendous acoustics, a sound mix that faltered several times and an overpacked festival floor, the band played as hard as its ever been heard in nearly 20 years. The screen closed everybody in, too, making it almost intimate at times.

Let me be the first to act crow for saying in a recent record review I didn't think Kenney Jones had the gumption to fill Keith Moon's shoes. He has and he did Thursday night. The songs where rhythm counts more than anything, especially the recent hits, were riveting because of Jones.

And, if Roger Daltrey seemed a trifle subdued compared to his 1979 caged-tiger restlessness, he is singing better every year, his voice getting richer and more expressive.

TOWNSHEND appears to let the music take his soul, lock, stock and barrel, while maintaining an objective distance from it all. That sure sense of where he was and what the music was doing at all times was clearly evident on the mammoth video screen that hung over the stage.

This rock event went off a bit shakier than last fall's Rolling Stones shows. Lax security in the early stages gave fans the unexpected chance to see their heroes closer than they hoped. Only 10,000 tickets were sold for the festival floor, but there were at least

20,000 swarming over it by the end of the night because hordes charged over the railings and eluded guards. The first wave shot over the walls about 5:15 p.m., followed by hundreds more during the evening and the guards were stymied by the swarms.

THE CRUSH to the stage area, as a result, was far worse than anticipated.

To the credit of Silverdome staff, they rained steady streams of cold water on the crowd to keep it cool.

For some fans who had been waiting outside the stadium as early as 7 a.m., the moment of truth when Townshend strummed the first chords of Can't Explain at 10:28 p.m. came like a Biblical manifestation.

Only a handful of numbers in the two-hour set were less than mesmerizing but stand-outs were: Drowned, played with alternating slow and fast tempi, multiple crescendos and all the fury live rock should possess; Dangerous and Eminence Front, two exciting new songs; and, of course, Love, Reign O'er Me, which always gives Daltrey a showcase.

WHEN THE group closed with a medley of early songs, including the essential Summertime Blues, the full spectrum of its career flashed before the audience.

Oh, The Clash and Eddie Money played, too. But their musical baggage was shuffled to the back in the hustle to get The Who on their way back home.

Colossal show: larger than life and twice as loud

Buses loaded predominantly with teenagers began leaving Windsor at 2:30 p.m. Thursday for The Who concert at the Pontiac Silverdome. The four English men in their late thirties whom they went to see came on stage at 10:30 p.m.

The wait therefore, for many, between setting out for the concert and seeing The Who play their first number — between preparation and gratification — was up to eight hours. Who says impatience is a trademark of youth?

That price for involvement may seem somewhat exorbitant to those who don't appreciate pop music, but in the megaworld of supernova rock-and-roll it fit perfectly with all the other grandiose dimensions. Everything was colossal Thursday night. More than 60,000 people under one roof. A stage constructed of the three letters — W-H-O — standing 10 storeys high. A 40-foot screen above this for visual projections and a sound system that sounded like the wrath of Jupiter.

THE VIEW presented to the average fan in upper deck was also a bigger-than-life tableaux.

By 5 p.m. the floor of the Silverdome was an undulating carpet of flesh, perhaps 25,000 people, that from a high vantage point, looked like St. Peter's Square when a new pope is announced. The lower deck had been

filled by 5 p.m. also, leaving only the stratospheric upper deck portions of the building for those who dared to come late.

In a way, the stadium did become a type of religious city for a night. Rock writers are fond of using nouns such as "mecca" and "pilgrimage" when they talk of congregations this large attending pop music events. And when the performers are the stuff of legend such as The Who, it's not hard to see why.

THESE ARE musicians who have been tried and proven by now. People attending a Who concert know they'll witness a spectacle, and be part of it as well. No one could have been disappointed last night.

One young woman provided a sideshow before The Who came on by cavorting nude on the stage. Another young woman was saved from the press of the crowd near the stage by being passed by hand over the sea of heads. "I couldn't breathe. Everyone was pushing so hard, everyone was acting like animals." Some fans set off firecrackers.

Among vital statistics were 18 arrests made by 11 p.m. and 60 fans who needed medical attention. There were drug and alcohol overdoses as well as minor injuries, apparently from fights and the crush of bodies.

An impregnable wall of burly white-shirted security types used a garden hose to spray the tendrils in front of the stage, an indignity for which one normally does not have to pay 15 bucks.