Several weeks ago, one of the Who’s most heavily bootlegged event was officially released in the form of Live At The Oval 1971. This Goodbye Summer concert, in aid of famine relief for the people of Bangladesh, took place one month after the innovative Who’s Next dropped, and to say that Keith Moon, John Entwistle, Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend played at a furious peak is an understatement. Imagine the Who’s immediately classic Live At Leeds cranked louder—still with a case of the bad-boy blues on “Baby Don’t You Do It” lost within the pop-wonk wonderment of “Magic Bus”—but additionally buoyed by the whole Tommy thing while tipping its hat to the new revolution of Who’s Next and expansive, air-conditioned, gypsy moments such as “Love Ain’t For Keeping” and “Bargain.” Yes, the Who was genuinely jazzed, caterwauling and intensely rough-cutting on this September evening at The Oval.
Intense and ripe with the urgent poignancy (or poignant urgency) of Townshend’s ruminative lyrics and Meher-Baba-whop-bop-a-loo-bop-a-lop-bam-boom spirituality to go with Daltrey’s chest-beating machismo, the next-gen Who—when manically propelled by Moon-ie Zak Starkey, the dramatic rumbling of bassist Pino Palladino and Simon Townshend’s everything utilitarianism—was always at its best when it still sounded as dangerous as its first gen. Danger is what made the Who the thinking man’s Rolling Stones (to the Kinks’ dandified Beatles) in the first place.
OK, the Who’s highly treasured red zone could be absolutely askew and unhinged when Moon and Entwistle were at their frenetic finest, and you could sense an annoyed Daltrey as he closed his eyes to mic twirl and Townshend’s disgust through the crash of a million smashed guitars. Askew is where the Who lived best and lived longest, until they didn’t. Moon and Entwistle, that is. But, what does it matter: You can’t get there from here (even through Starkey and Palladino were dynamic approximations), and wanting so will only bring you heartbreak.
Embarking, then, on this no-joke, last-ever The Song Is Over tour as a fan was a fool’s errand if you expected anything fiery, calamitous and severe. Although, at times, this Who at the Xfinity Mobile Arena was fabulously messy with blown cues and pacing screw-ups. No, seriously, this is a good thing. A perfect Who is a lousy Who.
This doesn’t have anything to do with the crowd’s anticipation as to whether Daltrey would hit the heartiest of his signature screams on anthemic cuts such as “Love, Reign O’er Me” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again.” That’s another story. Stay tuned.
The clarity and sprightliness of new Who touring bassist Jon Button and drummer Scott Devours, then, was kind of off-putting, as off as having to sit through my least-loved-ever Who song, “You Better, You Bet”—a waste as any part of the last of the Who’s touring days. Where you sought heft and propulsion, you got something jaunty on opening songs such as “I Can’t Explain” and “Substitute,” two early Who pop hits that required crust and luckily got saved by the muscular acoustic-guitar strumming of Simon Townshend. Happily, Daltrey sounded handsomely cool and surprisingly smooth at the start of this Philly set, with the singer commenting on the band’s fitness, only to be met with Pete’s comment that “we’re fucking old.” Shut the fuck up, Pete.
Things got thicker and chestier for Daltrey—in a fine way—when the stammer of “The Seeker” and “Long Live Rock” came to play, a place where a windmilling Townshend sprang to life without the self-critical aging thing draining his (or the audience’s) energy. There were a few age spots dotted across Daltrey’s angry-lion growl for the band’s Tommy moment (“Pinball Wizard,” “See Me, Feel Me”) and the display of rarely played Who’s Next cuts such as “Love Ain’t For Keepin’” and “Behind Blue Eyes”—but, nothing that would stop anyone’s love of Roger-style ferocity.
Though a bit timeworn due to their repeated plays on the Broadway stage, the Tommy tunes, when done by their masters, still hold gravitas. These two Who’s Next songs, however—despite their rarity—were played in brief, then disposed, as if their inclusion was a burden. “The Real Me” from Quadrophenia, too, felt rushed. Good, but under done. Shame, that.
I was displeased at having to hear latter-day lightweights such as “You Better You Bet,” but hedonistic disco drama “Eminence Front” was surprisingly pleasurable with Townshend’s air-swallowed vocals at their finest. Though the same can be said of the Who’s second singer during the rollicking ramble of “I’m One,” Pete handed over the vocal reigns of “Going Mobile” to brother Simon, the band’s true VIP. (Along with keyboardist Loren Gold, who gave every moment a lovely lyricism.)
“Love, Reign O’er Me” was a nice example of Gold’s lilting vibe, as he gave the grand, elegant rocker a starry-eyed entrée—an ascension that concluded with Daltrey’s animalistic roar at its finest fettle. I know people think of Daltrey as a grouchy old guy, but seeing him fighting back a proud, proud smile, then beaming like a kid was worth having to sit through “You Better, You Bet” a hundred times over. Especially as Daltrey did the same thing to his brawny, edgy howl for the back-to-back “Won’t Get Fooled Again” and “Baba O’Riley,” the latter complete with a vicious, whining violin solo at song’s end by Katie Jacoby.
The set ended with the founders’ acoustic-guitar duet “Tea & Theatre.” Immediately preceding that was the lyric-changed “The Song Is Over,” meant to reflect Daltrey’s devotion to this band and its audience. Though I was pissed off that Townshend didn’t sing his “I’m left with only tears” verse, I damn near got teary at their regal sound of goodbye with Daltrey handling the “pure and easy” finale with grace and lightness. I know everyone teases about how many times the Who said “farewell” with one tour after the other. But I’d give the million years they sing of during “The Song Is Over” to hear it one more time.
—A.D. Amorosi; photos by Wes Orshoski
