The story of The Who began in a modest place called Shepherds Bush. That working-class area of London produced the three "surviving founders of the "British Invasion" band that went on to become one of rock's most influential and enduring: singer Roger Daltrey, guitarist Pete Townshend and bassist John Entwistle.

"I suppose our town was not very dissimilar to, like, the Bronx," said Daltrey in a 1998 interview. "I started making my own guitar when I was 11 or 12 years old. I was into music then.

"We were not financially wealthy, but we were incredibly rich."

In the late '50s and early '60s, the three boys were in and out of each others' bands, but eventually wound up in the Detours, later renamed the High Numbers. Drummer Keith Moon came along a bit later.

"The first time I met Keith," recalled Entwistle in 1999, "he was like a little gingerbread man. He had, you know, ginger hair on a brown suit, a brown shirt with brown shoes and one of those fake orange tans."

The clownish "Moonie" completed the equation. His thrashing, unpredictable drumming was the perfect complement to Entwistle's virtuosity, Townshend's power chords and Daltrey's strutting microphone-swinging, front-man style.

"He did kind of blow us away," Entwistle said of the band's first impression of Moon.

"Actually, the first gig that we did (with Moon) was someone's wedding, believe it or not. That was the first time he blew us away. Because he actually tied his drums to this pillar on the side of the stage so he wouldn't fall over when he played the solo! And the drums were, like, heaving out, sort of, at about 45 degrees, held together by this big reel of rope."

The High Numbers were renamed The Who in 1963 – just as England's music scene was heating up.

After The Beatles' ignited the British Invasion, there emerged a veritable traffic jam of posturing British lads with longish hair and dreams of conquering America. So much so that good looks and good hocks were no guarantee of success.

The Who broke through by breaking some equipment – smashing their guitars and drums at an early gig at London's famous Marquee club.

"We were one of a million bands," said Daltrey. "How do we get noticed? It was just one of those lucky things that happened. A lucky break, to coin a phrase, which got us noticed."

Another plus for the fledgling Who was its distinction as the "mod" band. In those days in "swinging England," one was either a mod (a fashion-conscious raver) or a "rocker" (a street-tough punk).

"But were The Who true mods, or were they pushed into it by their burgeoning management?"

"We were pushed into it," Daltrey recalled. "I mean, we were more rockers than mods. We were, you know, rockers in mods' clothing. Our eyes had to be opened to the potential, but once we got into it, we became mods, yeah. We certainly did."

The band's first single, 1965's "I Can't Explain," might have floundered but for The Who's guitar smashing performance on "Ready Steady Go" (England's answer to "American Bandstand"). That same year, the band produced its debut album, "The Who Sings My Generation." The band's youth, its freshness and its reverence for R&B can all be clearly heard on the spare, passionate recording.

"We did 'My Generation' in two afternoons, I think," Daltrey said, "It would have been about eight hours of recording. It was all done virtually live, really."

THE CAREER of The Who would take some unexpected turns.

Like The Beatles, The Who made the transition from mere pop stars to players of significant music. Witness the groundbreaking rock operas "Tommy" (1969) and "Quadrophenia" (1973), and The Who's anthem-heavy 1971 masterpiece "Who's Next."

The Who also became one of the great tour headliners of the '70s. The band's barnstorming 1976 tour filled stadiums with fans – and pot clouds. Did any wait the band's way?

"Oh, God, yeah," Daltrey laughed. "I mean, we'd come off stage stoned.

"We never used to need to smoke any pot after the show. You'd be inhaling it all the way through. It was wonderful – far better than tobacco."

But the party atmosphere of the '70s would claim one of The Who.

On Sept. 7, 1978, after attending a party with old pals Paul and Linda McCartney, Moon died of a drug overdose, changing The Who forever.

"Of course it was never the same," Daltrey admitted. "We knew that.

"Mainly because of the way John and Pete play. They're individual players. What people didn't realize was, the style of Moon's drumming – his drumsticks were, for want of an analogy, like knitting needles. The percussible things he used to play knitted John's very busy bass part and Pete's very rhythmic kind of guitar playing together.

"We lost our clown. We lost that part of it. And we lost the danger that Moon brought to it.

"In saying that, I think (current Who drummer) Zak Starkey (son of Ringo Starr), musically, has given us back what Moon gave us in the music area. Obviously, in the personality area, no one can replace him.

But I think Zak Starkey drums in very much the same style as Moon. He's always surprising. He's never dull."

The Who's new double CD, "The Who Live: The Blues to the Bush" (musicmaker.com), brings the saga full circle. On it, the band plays Shepherds Bush.

And on the current Who tour, Daltrey will again be swingin' that mike. Which begs the question: Has the singer ever hit anyone with his microphone?

"Um, I've only ever hit anybody once, and that was intentionally," Daltrey said. "That was somebody who threw something at me. So I threw something back."

THE WHO 8 p.m. tomorrow • PNC Bank Arts Center • Exit 116, Garden State Parkway, Holmdel • $152-$35.50; sold out • (732) 335-0460

Also: 7:30 p.m. July 7 • Blockbuster/Sony Music Entertainment Centre • 1 Harbour Blvd., Camden • $150-$28.50; only lawn seats are still available • (856) 365-1300

Roger Daltrey and John Entwistle talk about their g-g-generation