CONCERT REVIEW

Who's Return Is Awesome

By Ed Masley

Post-Gazette Pop Music Critic

The Who's incendiary 1968 performance of "A Quick One While He's Away" at "The Rolling Stone's Rock and Roll Circus" made it seem a little daft that any other band would have the nerve to call themselves the world's greatest rock 'n' roll band.

In their day, no one could touch them as a live act. That's why "Live at Leeds" remains the greatest live recording in the history of rock.

They may have lost a little fire on the road from Leeds to Burgettstown, the ravages of time compounded by the death of the world's most colorful drummer, Keith Moon.

But The Who did more than just get by last night at the Post-Gazette Pavilion with a show that out-rocked any major act that's been through town in years.

Pete Townshend, surprisingly animated, ran on stage looking mod in a sharp black suit and proceeded to bash out the opening power chords of "I Can't Explain" with a youthful abandon he hasn't shown in ages. By the second guitar break, he'd already cranked out a crowd-pleasing flurry of legendary Townshend windmills.

Roger Daltrey was right there beside him, twirling his mike like it was 1968 all over again. And his vocals sounded even stronger than they do on "The Blues to the Bush," a live recording taped last year.

After three songs, I looked at my notebook and realized I'd already used the words awesome no fewer than five times, mostly with regard to Townshend.

It was that amazing.

Halfway through the fourth song, "I Don't Even Know Myself," I turned to my friend and said, "This song is awesome."

Six times.

Credit Ringo's kid, Zak Starkey, with giving the geezers the kick in the pants they so desperately needed on the drums. His playing stood in raucous tribute to the havoc Moonie used to raise behind the kit, especially his fills coming out of the synthesizer break on "Won't Get Fooled Again," the part that takes you into what remains the greatest scream in rock.

The music may have been explosive, but the banter had a "Storytellers" charm, with Townshend introducing "I Don't Even Know Myself" as a song recorded in his home. "I remember my neighbors next door," he recalled, with a grin, "very appreciative that I had Keith Moon in my bedroom playing drums."

Even bassist John Entwistle, stoic as ever for most of the night, cracked a joke, explaining that he'd written "My Wife" while "taking the dog for a walk in the rain. Do anything to get away from my wife."

The vocals were sketchy in places. An otherwise powerful "Baba O'Riley" felt a little sluggish, the occasional falsetto harmony was sorely missed as was the feedback-driven solo Townshend used to play on "Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere," especially with how it sounds on the just-released "BBC Sessions."

But it hardly seemed to matter. By the time they hit the encore-closing punk abandon of "My Generation," you could easily have fooled me into thinking they were still the world's greatest rock 'n' roll band after all these years.