Who, Us?

"Don't do this to me," I told MOBB when she called yesterday morning, saying she'd found half-price tickets to the Who show.

The show was about 12 hours from starting.

And she suggested I take THEBOY.

***

We've always joked with him, saying he'd "seen" them in August of 2000 in Dallas. That is, MOBB and I went to see them. She was five months pregnant.

I'd seen them in '89 at the Astrodome. They were fleshed out with extra musicians, including crazy-good drummer Simon Phillips. It was good, but not quite the full-blown Who experience I was after.

In 2000, from the first chords of opener "I Can't Explain," it was clear they weren't just screwing around. It was a terrific show.

And THEBOY kicked the whole time.

***

He's grown up listening to them, and even as a toddler would scream along with "Won't Get Fooled Again," nailing the timing after the synthesizer bit, little fists in the air.

I started to say no. No it's too much money, no he's too young...

But I got to thinking that they may never tour again, and when he's 12 or 18 or something he might really hate knowing how close he came to seeing them but didn't, you know?

So I bit the bullet.

***

MOBB got him these huge, fluorescent green earmuffs that cut out about 30dB. He was plumb tickled to wear them.

(In fact, he speaks very quietly when wearing them. We may have stumbled onto something really useful here)

***

We decided to ride the train in. Lots of folks in Who regalia were on the train, and we soon found ourselves talking to a long-haired, very pleasant young man who was seeing them for the first time.

***

We got there maybe midway through the Pretenders' set, me in my Tommy Tommy Tommy (from the musical) shirt and the boy wearing those... things.

There's really only so much sittin' down time one's going to get from a five-year-old, so I thought we'd spend some time wandering the concourse before the Who came on. We got some popcorn and a soda. THEBOY crept up a ramp to listen to Hynde et al, who sounded pretty good.

Lo and behold, another father with a son wearing earmuffs walked by. This kid looked a little younger than THEBOY.

***

So we took our seats, and HOO BOY--they were floor seats, 13 rows from the man himself, Pete Townshend! As THEBOY munched and took in the sights, I pointed out the roadies, and explained that long ago I'd had a couple jobs like that.

***

Me: "The lights are dimming. The Who will start in just a minute!"

THEBOY: "I need to go to the bathroom."

***

I could just hear the veins in my cerebrum bursting as I said, "I TOLD you not to drink so much soda! Look, can you just make it through one song?"

Before he could answer, Townshend bashed out those three distinctive chords, again, to open to the show with "I Can't Explain."

Whoa ho ho ho... here we go again.

I picked up THEBOY, who was

UTTERLY

IN

HIS

ELEMENT.

***

He took in the flashing lights, the visuals, the thumping volume, and the sheer HUGENESS that accompanied the occasion of seeing Pete and Roger, two musicians he refers to by those first names like he's known them his whole life (oh wait, he HAS).

THEBOY screamed, clapped, sang along, bobbed his head, and even flashed little devil horns with his hands.

***

As the song ended and the band began "The Seeker," he asked, "Okay, NOW can we go to the bathroom?"

Okay.

***

The band featured Pino Palladino on bass, subbing for not-so-long deceased John Entwistle, as well as Simon Townshend on rhythm guitar and John "Rabbit" Bundrick's tech playing keys. I didn't catch the man's name, but he stepped in when Bundrick had to return home to be with his sick wife.

And like in 2000, they weren't just screwing around. Despite the great fistfuls of BIG songs, they played maybe 10 new songs that actually held up well. People sang along to them, and though I didn't just fall in love with them, they did convince me that I've gotta buy the new CD.

(Oh, I didn't need much convincin' anyway)

It was a very meaty, very muscular sound they brought to Dallas. I tried to put a finger on just how to describe it. They weren't quite the nimble, juggernaut-style ensemble they'd been in '00. They were beefier if anything, and soon were startlingly loud, just having a balls-out good time. It was like those old ads... what, for Maxell cassettes maybe? Where the man in the chair is being blown back by the sound coming from his speakers?

And what's a Who show without Pete getting pissed off at the audience anyway? He asked the front rows, "Who here wants a pick?" Hands shot up all over the auditorium, and he said, "Exactly. Everyone wants a pick. It's like crumbs to savages." He went on to thank those people for paying so much money to sit there, but made it clear he'd had enough of being bugged for picks.

Largely they were in good spirits though, and for a couple of old Brits I found it easy to understand what they said.

***

THEBOY was a trooper. He started to get tired after a while. Hell, the show started about the time he usually hits the sheets. He listened to everything, often being carried by me. I had him stand on his chair some, but the ushers kept busting us for that.

(Oddly, though the vibe on the concourse was decidedly laid back, on the floor it was a bit rougher, as security and ushers were constantly going to and fro, shining flashlights in people's faces and escorting them out.)

THEBOY asked to leave once, and I asked if he could stay one more song. Sure.

But after that they went into a string of the big songs, and despite my repeated queries he was quite clear about NOT leaving.

We made it through the end of the regular set, which wrapped up, of course, with "...Fooled."

The band even tinkered with the song a bit, breathing a little fresh air into one of classic rock's biggest warhorses. I never get tired of the song, but I didn't mind what they did to it either.

We'd made it about 90 minutes. It was time to leave.

***

As we walked back to the train, I watched THEBOY closely. When kids are tired like that, they certainly look and act a bit like they're sick, and the popcorn and soda were certainly on my mind as he shuffled slowly along. I thought maybe the food and fatigue and just the overwhelming experience might make him pause to barf or something.

And as I watched carefully, walking slowly beside him, he said quietly, "That was great!"

Shoot, that kid was just fine.

***

And in fact, he looked to the left and saw the multi-colored lights on the downtownn Dallas buildings and said, "We're in a different world."

Wow.

***

So it went quite well I'd say. Oh, there were hiccups here and there, and little moments I could have made part of this (like a TRE employee threatening a man on the train, or the cannabis-reeking old farts on the train who prompted THEBOY to mutter, "I'm not staying HERE--it stinks too much!")

I'm proud, more than anything, to have shared something that's meant so much to me with my son. He attended his first concert at age five. I was about fourteen or fifteen. The spectacle, the music, the newness of it all... I must say it was a real joy to watch him watching the show, you know?

***

The Who are selling DVDs of every show, and yes, I intend to buy the Dallas DVD.

A couple reviews of the show from the local rags:

Dallas Morning News

Ft. Worth Star-Telegram

***

Ya'll have a good weekend.