POP MUSIC REVIEW

Solo Pete Townshend Lights Up the Beacon

PETE TOWNSHEND. Big ideas and old hits from rock's stubborn dreamer, making his American solo debut. Monday at the Beacon Theater, 2124 Broadway. Also Tuesday.

By Ira Robbins

STAFF WRITER

TWENTY YEARS ago, after Pete Townshend's conceptual ambitions yielded "Quadrophenia," The Who's second double-album rock opera, the group took it on tour. But "Quadrophenia" in its entirety left audiences stymied and impatient for hits; before long, it had been boiled down (like "Tommy") and mixed into the group's repertoire.

Townshend may have lost some of his hair since then, but he hasn't let his stubborn streak of artistic ambition go to seed. The guitarist / singer's new solo album, "PsychoDerelict," goes beyond his previous concept records, using dialogue to make the story 1 of an aging rock star hustled back into action by a venal journalist 1 explicit. The piece was clearly made to be staged, and that's the purpose of Townshend's first American solo tour.

Monday at the Beacon, backed by an

Pete Townshend

excellent eight-piece band, Townshend sandwiched the entire album, complete with actors, between two grab-bags of Who songs and solo material. The standing-room crowd accepted the trade-off: While it was not greeted with the wild enthusiasm that met Who hits such as "Pinball Wizard" or "You Better You Bet," the "PsychoDerelict" segment of the three-hour marathon was easily endurable and frequently engrossing. The dialogue wasn't too distracting, and if the story fell apart, the individual songs didn't.

Leading a ragged fife and drum corps onstage playing The Who's ancient "Cobwebs and Strange," Townshend was in extraordinary form, a giddy fireball still capable of windmill power chords and even a modest jump or two. After announcing that the company had only rehearsed a few times, Townshend and his bandmates proved it with a few missed cues and an impromptu arrangement of "Won't Get Fooled Again" that went terribly awry. But it all contributed to the unpretentious charm of the entire enterprise.

Before launching into "PsychoDerelict," Townshend dredged up his rarely performed first song cycle, 1966's "A Quick One While He's Away," and gave it a handsome, credible update. He also did a stately, haunting rendition of the English Beat's "Save It for Later," to which lead guitarist Phil Palmer added a fine solo.

The centerpiece was staged simply, with rudimentary scenery; the album's three thespians (John Labanowski, Linal Haft and Jan Ravens) reprised their parts. A mimed swimming scene was ludicrous, but otherwise the worst problem of the production was that it occasionally obstructed Townshend and harmonica wildman Peter Hope-Evans as they danced around the stage.

After "PsychoDerelict," Townshend acted like a hyperactive kid refusing bedtime. There were a lot of songs he wanted to play. By the time he had done an acoustic rendition of "Corrina, Corrina" and a frenzied electric "Magic Bus," it seemed high time to call it a night. But four years off the road have evidently pent up a lot of energy, and Townshend came back to sing "Sheraton Gibson," an old solo number that laments the loneliness of being on the road. After this exultant performance, that seems like a place the 48-year-old is going to be spending a lot more time. 6