The Song is Over, For Real This Time: The Who at The Hollywood Bowl

The Song is Over, For Real This Time: The Who at The Hollywood Bowl

(photos by Brad Auerbach)

Let’s get it on the table: Townshend is a very wealthy man. So is McCartney and Elton. Likewise for Jagger and Richards. And the guys in Queen. And Springsteen and Neil Young. These artists are the Mt. Rushmore of rock and roll.

They each could have retired from the road years ago and lived a lifestyle pretty close to what they enjoy these days.

As to a review of The Who’s recent magnificent show at the Hollywood Bowl, this is not a teary-eyed annotated setlist of their final ‘this-time-it’s-for-real’ touring show, but more a ‘why do they do it’ essay.

As mentioned, The Who, The Stones, McCartney, Elton, Springsteen and the others on Mt. Rushmore could have all stopped touring years ago, and lived as comfortably then as they do now.

In other words, I believe these tours are not really about the money. They might be giving the money to charity, they might be leaving it to friends and family, but I think the real reason these artists still perform is the same reason emerging bands create: they have to.

They are artists and they are sharing their art, whether it was first composed decades ago or rearranged recently…it is theirs, they created it and they still have the need to share it. Yes, the adulation and the money is great (of which these legacy artists received plenty years and years ago).

Why then do they charge so much money for tickets if all they want to do is express themselves? Well, the willing buyer and the willing seller in the secondary market confirm the eye-popping value of these tickets. Artists prefer the money go to those who create and put the show on rather than the scalpers, the touts, the ticket agents. I agree with that sentiment.

No, the benefit to all of us is the same urge felt by the garage band still scraping around for a paying gig or The Who going out one last time on tour. It is a good thing, to be celebrated.

These artists created this work, people love it, and these artists are allowed to revel in the glory and appreciation.

The first time I saw The Who was in 1975, with the original four members in fine form.

In the ensuing years, as Moon and Entwistle departed this mortal coil and Townshend and Daltrey soldiered on with an expanded and evolving band, I always wondered as I walked into their next concert, would The Who be like the proverbial boxer who did not know when to hang up the gloves? Yet, they did not cease to amaze.

Yes, the brush of memory paints with golden strokes and that recent night at the Hollywood Bowl had me enjoying the show through somewhat rose colored glasses (and admittedly mixing metaphors), but I had no sense that the band phoned in. Daltrey may not swing the microphone in as wide an arc as he used to, and Townshend no longer leaps about or slides across the stage as in days of yore. But it is doubtful anyone left the venue feeling let down by the power and glory of the songs that have been seemingly embedded in our DNA.

The set list spanned their six decade career with fully six of nine songs from one of the best albums ever released, Who’s Next. And why is it the rippling synthesizer figures Townshend created in 1971 for that album do not sound dated?

As to getting teary-eyed, well yes I did during “The Song Is Over,” as this time it’s for real in terms of no more tours from the band.

The newest song in the setlist was their final song, a perfect coda. The other six touring bandmembers left the stage. Daltrey sang the words Townshend penned (the latter has long expressed gratitude that the former delivers Townshend’s lyrics so poignantly), here all about looking back.

Perhaps the golden strokes of such retrospective are fuzzy, burnishing the various rough edges in the band’s history.

But as the last notes of the last song died down, audience and performer were drawn tightly together. This unity is what Townshend always pointed to as fundamental to his art.

Lean on my shoulder now
This story is done
It’s getting colder now
A thousand songs

Still smolder now
We play them as one
We’re older now
All of us sad
All of us free
Before we walk from this stage
Two of us

Will you have some tea
Will you have some tea
At the theater with me