Earlier this year ROGER DALTREY gave his first solo performance of The Who’s rock opera Tommy for the Teenage Cancer Trust charity. Before proceedings began on the opening night of his tour in Wolverhampton (which sees him take the show extensively across the country), Daltrey explained these shows came together almost by accident. He chattily informed the crowd that he had so much fun putting together his presentation of Tommy, rediscovering the intricate harmonies and arrangements of The Who’s classic album, that he thought “fuck it, let’s take it on the road”. There’s also the suspicion that with Pete Townshend’s hearing problems forcing an indefinite sabbatical and Daltrey being (but certainly not looking) 67, this may be the final chance for the singer to revisit the role that converted him into a Rock God.
At first the idea of Tommy without its author Pete Townshend being present may seem sacrilegious. The story of the deaf, dumb and blind boy’s spiritual awakening and rejection is undoubtedly Townshend’s baby and contains many autobiographical undercurrents. Still, to suggest that Townshend is The Who is simply wrong. Daltrey is more than just a singer; he’s an interpreter of Townshend’s twisted and fractured ideas. Despite the immediacy of The Who’s early singles, the subjects they cover are not traditional pop fodder and Daltery’s performances are essential to their success. He’s the blocked up speed freak in My Generation, the abused transvestite in I’m A Boy and the lovelorn teenage masturbator in Pictures Of Lily. In every instance he completely inhabits a song in a way few other singers do. Similar to how great actors can become Othello or Hamlet, Roger Daltrey is as much the work of Pete Townshend as the great man himself.
He began with Tommy in it’s entirety and from the moment Daltrey placed his hand on his chest and belted out the character’s objections in 1921 (“I heard it, I saw it, every word of it”), it’s clear that this wasn’t a man going through the motions, this was Daltrey returning and recreating the role that propelled him and The Who to superstardom with eye-popping authenticity. His voice sounded fresher than it has done in twenty years and his backing band (including long-time Who second guitarist, and Pete’s brother, Simon Townshend) were impeccable. While The Who had the tendency to storm through Tommy, making it a more muscular and aggressive beast in concert, the performance on Daltrey’s solo tour is an absolute recreation of the original score. It’s a highly respectful testament to The Who’s album and the attention to detail is breathtaking. Seeing every texture and piece of instrumentation recreated live with awesome precision was the first time in years that I appreciated Tommy as a fantastic musical piece in its own right. The scope of musical material in Tommy is almost overwhelming; with its layers of harmony and precise arrangements it’s more a British Pet Sounds than a true part of The Who canon. My mouth practically hit the floor when the band’s drummer perfectly recreated Keith Moon’s drum fills in Sparks. It sounded indistinguishable from the record.
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Despite the immaculate musical performance, it’s the emotional pull of Tommy that made its hour-plus duration fascinating. Daltrey sells every lyric with an intensity that still captivates, especially his dialogue between three different characters in the story’s turning point Go To The Mirror. The finale of We’re Not Gonna Take It and its heartbreaking final refrain of “See me, feel me, touch me, heal me” was as powerful performance as anything I’ve ever witnessed. It also absolutely rocked. There was a standing ovation that lasted for well over two minutes.
With the crowd remaining on their feet, Roger Daltrey was on top form belting out rarely or never played moments from The Who’s history, completely celebrating moments of the band that are sometimes ignored through the impression of them being rock legends. He kicked off with I Can See For Miles (a song The Who confessed they could never master live), Squeeze Box and Who’s Next’s overlooked gem Going Mobile. Daltrey remained a jovial story-teller introducing Pictures Of Lily with a tale of how The Who could never recreate the song’s high pitched harmonies after John Entwistle had an encounter with a lady of particularly loose morals. He even spoke to Robert Plant who was in the audience about their shared love of Nashville music and began a selection of Johnny Cash covers by recounting how the workers used to sing them during his days as a sheet metal worker.
There was an emphatic version of Baba O’Riley, a song which lives and dies on Daltrey’s genuine and believable delivery, the explosive Mose Allison cover Young Man Blues and possibly The Who’s greatest unknown classic Tattoo. He ended with his mammoth solo hit Without Your Love and a carefree version of Blue Red And Grey: a ukulele strummed Pete Townshend sung number which Daltrey confessed he had wanted to play live but his requests were always turned down because Townshend thought he’d look “fucking stupid playing a ukulele”. It was an absolutely joyous ending to two and a half hours that proved Daltrey undoubtedly deserves his status as one of rock’s true greats.
Roger Daltrey’s revelation that his occasional gripes toward the sound man were due to the band developing a low volume stage set up that may allow Pete Townshend to tour again made the night even more special.
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