You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy.
The Who.
Wow.
Big and bold and thunderous.
Seeing the WHO was musical and iconic and surreal and dream like.
The Who At 50.
Standing in the front row, yes the front row, I was at times overwhelmed.
The two surviving members stood on the stage of the Bridgestone Arena and delivered a sterling, awe inspiring performance.
Roger Daltry, 71 years old, and Pete Townsend, 69, rocked the house.
I was so close to these legends, I could see Townsend spit and blink and sweat.
I was so close, I could rest my arms on the metallic barrier holding me back, keeping me from rushing the stage all of 5 feet away.
Normally I go to a show and hope I can see the stage, often relying on the video board to see the nuances of the show.
Not tonight.
Row 1 is a special occasion.
Row 1 is fine dining at a five-star hotel.
Row 1 is first class in a lier jet.
Row 1 is a memory that I will never forget
I was so unbelievably close, looking up at the video board hurts my neck.
Daltry and Towsend are rock Gods. These AARP candidates made me hope I’m that cool in 20 years.
It was the Who at 50 tour. Where does half a century go?
Except for a 4 song medley from the early years, every song was like a greatest hit barrage.
Each song better than the last.
From Magic Bus, to My Generation, to the Kids Are All Right.
It was a nostalgic walk down rock and roll memory lane.
The stage set up was big but not bigger than the band. The video board was engaging, but not overwhelming. There were no pyrotechnics, no guest performers, no lasers slicing through the arena, making you forget the music.
This was all about the music. It was real and raw and historic.
Like anything 50 years old, the show was hardly perfect.
Daltry had microphone and earpiece issues throughout the show. His voice is not nearly what it once was. On half a dozen occasions, his face revealed frustration and it was obvious that technology was somehow letting him down.
At one point he started a line, and stopped, and laughed. He either forgot the words, or started too soon, or just couldn’t hear what he was singing.
It didn’t really matter. In fact, it felt more real. These Rock Gods felt like people, almost vulnerable. You felt sorry for Daltry for a moment because we knew how much it meant to him to deliver his best and the equipment at times prevented him from doing so.
But he is a consummate performer and he pushed through, tugging incessantly at his ear piece, delivering powerful songs that are an anthem for 50 years of humanity.
Pete Townsend simply is Pete Townsend. He made me think that a brain and fingers and a guitar can all operate as one mechanism.
His windmill chord strikes are legendary. Though 69 years old, he is still a Guitar God. He played the top of the neck, poking the strings with his fingers, then squeezing the chords in a heavy, sweaty, sultry way, bending the music like a thunder-cloud distorts a rainbow on stormy day.
I’ve seen Eddie and Angus and the Edge and Joe Perry and Townsend made me think he has them all beat.
The guitar is just an extension of his soul.
And when he wasn’t melting the strings and asking the roadies for a new guitar, he was talking to the crowd, to me, laughing, regaling us with crazy stories.
He spoke about legendary drummer Keith Moon and super glue. He talked about sexual ineptitude. He spoke about Nashville and the Twang that makes music great.
Every so often, I turned around to see what row 2 and beyond was doing. The house was packed. The crowd, made up of baby boomers and grandparents, was on its feet for more than 2 hours.
This was a once in a lifetime moment.
1ST ROW.
It was four levels above amazing.
It was me and the WHO.
There was nothing visually to obscure my view. I’ve never been to a concert where the crowd wasn’t a part of the experience. I had no one in front of me to look over or around. There was a barricade, a stage and two legendary musical forces within 15 feet of me.
To be that close, to feel the music, to see the spit of the lyrics fly from Townsend mouth. Wow is underselling my experience.
Holy Shit is the 1st rung of a ladder of incredible.
It was great, it was overwhelming at times. It was inundating and saturating and memorable beyond words.
From the opening crescendo of I CAN’T EXPLAIN to the SEEKER to WHO ARE YOU, the musical nostalgia was a river of memories.
How do I know every single word of every single song.
That is the power of a lifetime of devotion.
We sang along with I CAN SEE FOR MILES.
I thought about how I can play the rudimentary chords to BEHIND BLUE EYES.
I enjoyed the power and theatrical moment of LOVE REIGN O’er ME.
I marveled at the musical complexity of EMINENCE FRONT.
the Who are rock royalty.
In the storied history of Rock and Roll; It is the Rolling Stones and then the Who and then whoever is left.
There are high priests of Rock and Roll like AC/DC and Aerosmith and U2, but they carry the pillow that carries the ring that is worn by the Gods.
The STONES and the WHO.
That’s a hallowed group.
Respect your elders they say.
And who doesn’t respect the WHO?
They are part of a Holy Trinity of British Rock.
The Beatles. The Who. Led Zeppelin.
The British Invasion.
The Who are a bucket list for me
The band is my Generation. I have been buying their albums since the 70’s.
Remember record players? I do.
The Who is the soundtrack to our life.
Angst of the 60’s and seeking in the 70’s and You better you better you bet in the 80’s.
Pink Floyd is also in my palace of Rock and Roll. I’ve seen them too!
If only Zeppelin would reconvene, my rock and roll bucket list would be complete.
I woke up in a Soho doorway and a policeman knew my name. He said you can go home and sleep at home tonight if you can get up and walk away.
I couldn’t sleep at all last night.
My ears were ringing and my brain fried like a nuclear reactor churning up memories of a life experience that I will never forget.
Life’s Crazy™