Of course, time has passed and things are now different. To begin with, and despite his undeniable skill, drummer Zak Starkey doesn't have the same punch as the lamented Keith Moon, nor the clean and sober sound of Kenney Jones. And neither the bassist, Jon Button, nor the rhythm guitarist, Simon Townshend (Pete's brother), manage to fill the void left by John Entwistle, taking to his grave that deep, electric, and warm sound of his. That is clear, and tonight we have not come to see The Who of 1964, nor of 1976, nor of 1981. We have come to see what they are in 2023 and, knowing what we already knew, they have not disappointed, because they have had to find a way to continue captivating with their classic repertoire, despite the limitations imposed by advanced age and the losses suffered. The art of knowing how to do a revival of themselves, but within an order. With class.
With this premise, Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey have visited the Palau Sant Jordi before an audience that did not fill the venue, but was completely dedicated and, most surprisingly, with ages ranging from 70 (contemporaries of the band) to twenty-something. There was no shortage of a large number of youngsters who knew all the songs. And they jumped and chanted them. And applauded until their fingerprints were gone.
After a brief acoustic recital by Simon Townshend, The Who take the stage punctually and, almost without a word, begin. Backed by the Orquesta Simfònica del Vallès guided by the baton of Keith Levenson, they perform songs from Tommy, the group's first "rock opera." The atmosphere heats up with Pinball wizard, Amazing journey or We're not gonna take it. But things get serious when the first chords of Who are you, which became a cathodic anthem since its use as the theme song for CSI, are heard. Ball and chain, a track from their most recent album, Who, is also played. The Simfònica leaves the stage. Now it's up to the band to defend the repertoire on their own, and they succeed.
Roger Daltrey is close to 80, he moves little, although he looks in shape and, although he has lost some vocal range, he maintains his cords wonderfully well. Enough to continue working with The Who and solo. Pete no longer jumps around wildly, but he moves across the stage, possessed by the notes he squeezes from his guitar.
You better you bet, Eminence Front and the lesser known Another tricky day cover their early 80s era. With I can see for miles and Substitute, 60s hits, they take us back to past adolescences jumping in really small rooms, overflowing with postcards and posters of old forgotten bands, and records and tapes recorded with songs capable of changing the course of your existence. Songs that speak to you, face to face, that manage to explain you better than you yourself would be able to do.
With The seeker the crowd shudders and with Won't get fooled again comes the climax of the evening. The Sant Jordi trembles and the audience screams as if their lives depended on it. Probably, in a way, it is. Probably those songs are an important part of their lives. Without them, everything would have been different, probably worse.
With Behind blue eyes they feature violinist Katie Jacoby and cellist Audrey Snyder and the heart rate drops, to be carried away by the slow and enveloping rhythm of the song which, upon finishing, gives way to the final block. The orchestra returns to the stage and it's time for Quadrophenia: the conceptual album that this year celebrates half a century of history. The real me, I'm one, 5:15, Love reign o'er me and The rock play.
The audience asks for more from The Who and a visibly tired Roger Daltrey smiles. Pete introduces the musicians and the moment of the final apotheosis arrives with Baba O'Riley, with Jacoby jumping on stage and the band giving their proverbial all.
There are no encores, no smashing of guitars against the pavement. The Who shows they know their place and have the good taste not to perform early classics like My generation which, at this point, would sound out of place. Pop Art, if anything, we'll leave for another day. There's a hint, from the audience, of asking for more. But it's been two hours of concert and these gentlemen have already given their best. It's not a matter of forcing it.
The venue finally empties and the people smile and comment on the play, mostly happy to have attended an appointment with their personal history. With the songs that, one fine day, who knows exactly when, took them by the hand ---or by the neck--- to take them to unexpected places from which, once there, they never wanted to return.
And, faced with that, there is no passage of time, aging, or casualties that can kill the illusion, the Great Idea. The song or songs that outlive their authors. Even when they no longer exist, The Who will be eternal. And what happened tonight at the Palau Sant Jordi is irrefutable proof of that.