So, an ancient Roger Daltry and a still fairly nimble, but equally
over-the-hill Pete Townsend get to play the Stupor Bowl 44 halftime show.
What a depressing act.
Pete’s still got the old arm swing, and his riffs are as clean as ever,
but there was no reason to have taped Daltry’s mic cord to the mic itself.
Recently I’ve begun to pay attention to the inverse relationship between
how badly the music is going to suck and how bright and flashy fireworks
and light show are.
The Who’s show on Sunday was a topper. I doubt anyone in the stadium
could have seen Daltry at the mic or Townsend’s guitar antics (sans
blowing up an amp by slamming a guitar into it) for all the lights
flashing across the field and firework flares.
When I popped into the show (having come over from an old Law and Order
re-run to check the score), Daltry was in the middle of Pinball Wizard.
When I last saw the Who live, San Diego, 1982, Roger was already
having trouble hitting the high notes, so I had no expectations about
this performance. It was sad however, to see that he couldn’t sustain
a phrase. He may never have had the young Sinatra’s power, but he was
a formidable singer in his own right. That was then, as they say.
I don’t know what he’s doing with his days, but it’s certainly not
anything cadio-vascular. Frank, at the end of his days, deep into
his 80s, still had more voice than this.
Roger’s range seems to have gone the way of his wind. Maybe he’s got an
octave in him, but it would have been difficult tell from the way he
dropped down anytime the piece called for something serious in the way
of a higher note.
Anyone who watches PBS is used to seeing geezers from the 50s and 60s
strut what little is left of their stuff during beg breaks. Recently
Public Broadcast has even managed to resurrect Fleetwood Mac (all of
them looking as ancient as Roger and Pete in Miami).
What is never seen is whether or not any of these singers or groups has
anything new in their repertiore. It’s a pity. Doing so might show
that these people still have talents and that they matured artistically.
It would also give us a chance to both revisit our youth and celebrate
the fact that we too, have matured.
Assuming we want to lay claim to the fact.
Stuck in the past, singing along with tunes we danced to in our 20s
infantalizes us all, audience as well as performers. We all deserve
better.
Rickie Nelson said it best, when he slammed the fans who booed him off
stage at Madison Square Garden in 1971:
“If memories were all I sang, I’d rather drive a truck.”
And if memories are all I have, I’d rather say good-night.