The untimely death of John Entwhistle gives pause for thought. 23 December 1999, I'm in a queue to get into a converted cinema in Shepherds Bush, West London - The Who's home turf. The queue is orderly and largely male of a certain age. There is not much hair. We are here to see The Who on their second night at The Empire - an intimate, 2,000 capacity venue. The doors open promptly at 7pm and we file in without crushing. The T-shirt stall is strategically placed by the loos. They must have known that an hour's wait, even inclement weather for December, would require a visit. The cheapest shirt is £15, which is a bit steep on top of the £30 ticket price.

There are no seats, which will be good for moving to the music, if a bit tiring at our age. Mobile phones are much in evidence as punters describe the scene to friends outside. Although you'd have thought that minimal sound checks would have been necessary for this 2nd night, the advertised 8pm start comes and goes. There are some whistles, but they're good-natured. We are forbearing with some very trying PA music - "The Final Countdown," for heaven's sake.

It gives time to remember previous Who gigs. In the 60s, my musical tastes had been somewhat mercurial. I'd tired of The Beatles by about the time of A Hard Day's Night. My liking for R&B was still there, but The Stones seemed to have mellowed with their second album and I still craved excitement in music. The Who offered this in shed loads and I looked forward eagerly to their TV appearances on Ready Steady Go, Beat Room, etc. Initially they mimed, but Ready Steady Go were sufficiently innovative to have them play "live." In those days, guitar amplifiers were 30 watts and the P.A. was 50 watts. When I first saw The Who "live" on TV, Pete Townshend was using the extra volume of a Fender P.A. to play guitar through. On another occasion, a friend saw the side fall off Townshend's Fender column speaker, when he banged feedback out of his guitar against it.

In 1965, I joined the Ricky Tick Club in Guildford and at last was able to see The Who live. They had just released "My Generation." The place was perhaps half-full -- maybe 150 were there. I stood in front of Pete Townshend but, after a while, was aware of hearing only indistinctly, as my ears were singing. They did so for some time afterwards. The Who surprised me by opening with "Dancing In The Street." I needn't have worried. When the instrumental break came, Pete Townshend turned to the twin Marshall stacks behind him, fed by twin leads from his guitar, cranked up the volume and produced amazing feedback sounds by rubbing his torso artistically against the speakers. The set also included the Everly Brothers' "Man With Money", "Daddy Rolling Stone" and the afore-mentioned "My Generation." It was a little disappointing to see Viv Prince from The Pretty Things on drums -- Keith Moon was said to be unwell. Viv still managed to thrash over a cymbal stand, which Roger Daltrey picked up and restored while he was singing. I was pleased that this was about all that was destructive in the act that night, as I was never comfortable with that aspect. However, one of Pete Townshend's twin Marshall speakers was part-covered with a Union Jack flag, which failed totally to obscure a tear underneath in the speaker cloth. It was a great evening.

In 1974 I saw The Who again, this time with Keith Moon and a rather larger crowd, at Charlton Football Club. After an even longer delay than that between the other acts on the bill, The Who started brilliantly with "I Can't Explain" and had everyone on their feet and out of the lethargy that sets in at such occasions. Roger Daltrey postured effectively. Pete Townshend had 5 Les Paul guitars on stage. The band played well. Standouts were "See Me, Feel Me", "Won't Get Fooled Again" and "Baba O'Riley." Townshend's jumping around became a little tedious, as did a Jimmy Reed influenced version of "My Generation." Sitting on grass and listening to a sound system which, for all its power, cannot create the atmosphere of a club, seemed a poor second best. It was more about being there with a large number of people than hearing the performers.

25 years on and back at Shepherds Bush, at 8.25 the lights go down and a cheer goes up. On they come. The grey-haired, bearded Entwhistle in a tan leather jacket (he'll get hot), has a bass guitar with red lights on the side of the neck where the black dots are normally -- handy in the dark. Zak Starkey, looking uncannily like Keith Moon, wears dark T-shirt with red shoulders -- how will he make out? Daltrey in dark waistcoat and white shirt, grey hair permed. Townshend in faded black polo shirt who Dan, my son (whose Christmas present to me this is) says looks like the sort you get with two pints of Tetley's -- a far cry from the Union Jack jackets of yore. And who is this bald, bespectacled Reg Dixon look-alike on keyboards at stage right?

There is no introduction. Just the familiar chords of "I Can't Explain." Daltrey straightaway microphone swinging. The small stage highlights the fact that Daltrey is short. Townshend towers over him with his red Stratocaster, but you forget how well the two of them move. They both use their shoulders and look commanding. Daltrey is still a good dancer. Townshend had dropped the jumping around and returned to the ungainly balletic movements of the 60s. And here are the drums -- a good copy of Moon's, albeit with the thudding MTV sound so de rigeur at today's concerts. It pins me to the mixing desk behind and I try turning sideways to avoid the discomfort in the diaphragm, but to no avail.

In quick succession there follow "Substitute," "Anyway, Anyhow Anywhere" and "Pinball Wizard," with yet more microphone swinging on this restricted stage and we're not 20 minutes into the evening. This is The Who's forte -- well-constructed, short songs that smack you in the mouth and leave you gaping. How many seem to begin solidly, then skip 2 gears and go into overdrive. These blokes are really playing, not just going through the motions.

Daltrey introduces Entwhistle, who lets us know, in no uncertain terms, that he has a cold. He says that the crowd yelling requests at him reminds him of his ex-wife and he sings "My Wife." Daltrey moves downstage and sings discreetly in unison with him.

The synthesiser intro to "Baba O'Reilly" brings a roar from the crowd but the lights, which are coloured spot and gantry -- fairly basic by today's standards and none the less welcome for that -- lack synchronisation. However, they all come up while the crowd sing "... teenage wasteland" with Townshend. Daltrey has a tentative outing on harmonica. Townshend changes guitar and introduces a song from Lifehouse, a play which he exhorts us to admire for the foresight with which he wrote it in 1971. The song seems a little uninspired and Daltrey sings less confidently.

They move to "You Better You Bet" - not one of their best. Townshend tells us his singing voice is gone. He says that he sounded pompous the previous night (shome mishtake shurely?) when he told the crowd not to throw money at an artiste (as they had at a recent charity bash in Chicago). However, cameras, watches and luxury goods are acceptable, as he can't get out shopping nowadays.

Daltrey announces that they've had a request for "Happy Jack" and that this will serve us right for asking. The absence of Townshend/Entwhistle harmonies is noticeable. Entwhistle doesn't sing all night except on his solo numbers. Townshend doesn't sing the first verse of "I'm A Boy" - always my favourite single. The audience tries to provide the glorious backing vocals.

Townshend and Entwhistle drink their bottled water, Daltrey has a can. Townshend announces an unrehearsed number - who's he kidding? The lights are synchronised. There is a piano intro and Daltrey about crying over you with a refrain about the straight and narrow. At the end, Townshend says that there was only one rehearsal between the 2 nights.

50 minutes into the set and Townshend changes guitar again (a red Strat each time). Daltrey drinks water, pours it over his head then throws it on the crowd. His perm is a bit flattened but he looks the more human for it. It's becoming uncomfortable where I'm standing, as the crowd is on the move. Men need to remember that they can't drink pints continuously and stand in the same place, especially as they get older. Some of the few women present appear woozy.

Townshend teases the crowd with the fact that the gig is being recorded, but only for the band's benefit (when did The Who become a band rather than a group?). "You can listen to your bootlegs," he says. He announces a number from Quadrophenia, which brings a cheer. It's the real me, doctor, and the lights are good. Townshend it's time for a rest. They've been really motoring for more than an hour. He announces The Who's only ballad, which is not a love song but rather about male insecurity. The crowd acclaims "Behind Blue Eyes" and sings along. A ballroom globe revolves in the ceiling.

Townshend enjoys some banter with the crowd and threatens that hair might fall on them. Zak Starkey plays a thudding drumbeat which becomes the intro to "Magic Bus." During Townshend's guitar work out, Daltrey appears to be shouting at the roadies that his harmonica is no good. Another is thrown to him from the wings. Daltrey plays and there is a magical crescendo, a glorious noise with all stage lights up. Daltrey throws 3 harmonicas into the crowd at the finish.

Mugs (of tea?) appear on the amplifiers. Townshend berates young men in the audience for throwing CDs at him and expecting him to bend down to pick them up -- it's unfair, he says, to inflict this torture on him with his lumbago. John Entwhistle sings "Boris The Spider" with Daltrey downstage again. Townshend announces that he is on a drug - Contac 400. He says he has no qualms about admitting that he has also used menthol and eucalyptus.

Daltrey warns some young men at the front that he doesn't like what they're doing. Someone tells him that there's a rat on the floor at the front. Daltrey tells girls to keep their legs together. Townshend says that the rat has a violin case which contains a gun, because it's a West London rat. They play "Who Are You" with good supporting crowd vocals. Townshend disappears from sight (I couldn't see if he was crouching) during his solo. When he reappears, floor-mounted lights on his, Daltrey's and Entwhistle's faces are used to good effect and for the only time in the evening.

"Why should I care?" sings Townshend. Entwhistle plays a cracking bass solo while Townshend swigs water. Daltrey disappears from sight (sitting on the drum podium?). Then, to a roar from the crowd, we're into the organ fugue of "Won't Get Fooled Again." A stunning performance of what is arguably their best number. The long, album version instrumental comes where Daltrey appears to miss 2 possible cues for his "Call of the wild" shout. Then he does it - magic.

That ought to be it. They've played for 2 hours. OK they've paced themselves at times but have built an easy, informal rapport with the audience. Some of it was a little rough round the edges and I missed the backing vocals. But they still cut it as a fine band. Townshend's guitar is authoritative and I appreciate how many fine songs he crafted. Daltrey is still a great singer and front man. Entwhistle's bass is still very evident. The drums were good and the keyboards invaluable. What's this? Daltrey says, "We'll stay on, because when we finish, we won't come back." A roadie brings him a big acoustic Gibson guitar. Townshend says this one is for his kids and the kids of today, because we haven't done a good job so far. He had thought that rock and roll could change the world - or at least that The Who could. They play "The Kids Are Alright" and it's great to hear it again. Townshend sings "we're gonna cool this place down."

Entwhistle, still apparently suffering, talks to the wings and goes off stage again. Townshend says it looks as if Roger doesn't want to go home. Daltrey says how nice it is to come home, how they played years ago up the Goldhawk Road and this is what they sang. And, with some kind words about Johnny Cash, he sings "I'll Walk The Line/Ring Of Fire." Townshend joins in the chorus. It looks unrehearsed but the crowd is forgiving; it's been a great night. They play "Mary Ann With The Shaky Hand" then "My Generation" with a long outtro including Van Morrison's "Gloria" riff, some somewhat out of place Joe Sattriani/Brian May fingerboard pyrotechnics, plus Daltrey cymbal smashing on his microphone. Applause, bows, finally a credit for Zak Starkey and "Rabbit" Bundrick (so that's who it was). Then the lights are up and it's over. It's been a privilege to see them in such a venue again - almost like old times. A bit uncomfortable, but, if you want luxury, take your cigarette lighter to Wembley Arena and see Eurythmics. Tonight was rock and roll for people who still want to participate. Do it again soon lads.

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Published on: 2002-08-09 (2863 reads)