In a quietly emotional press gathering at Iconic Images Gallery that Cherwell was privileged to attend, The Who formally announced their final curtain call. Formed in the smog-choked backstreets of 1964 London, four angry young men from Acton chose to hurl their post-adolescent fury through amplifiers into the ears of a changing Britain. Over the decades, they have become one of the UK’s most influential bands, with landmark albums like Tommy, Who’s Next, and Quadrophenia, and anthems such as “My Generation”, “Baba O’Riley” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again”. Inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1990, The Who have sold over 100 million records worldwide. Now, they prepare to take their final bow on American soil.
The 16-show tour marks the conclusion of a six-decade transatlantic love affair – one last lap of honour from the sonic architects who birthed the rock opera, pioneered the art of instrument destruction, and turned windmill guitar strums and primal screams into defining iconography of rock rebellion.
“Everybody’s dream was to make it in America,” reflects singer Roger Daltrey. “Every young musician’s dream was that act. That’s where the first pulses of rock music came from.” There’s a tender reverence in his tone when discussing American audiences – an acknowledgement of completion, of a circle closing. “It meant so much, and it’s been so loyal to us. And I hope we’ve given back to it in the same manner. But it’s got to come to an end one day, and it would be great to do it while I can still sing the songs in the same key, and Pete’s still playing great guitar, and the music’s still got that vitality to it.”
With a touch of wistfulness, the conversation shifts to memories of the band’s first arrival in the country. “It goes back to 1967 in New York. Murray the K’s ‘Music in the Fifth Dimension’,” begins guitarist Pete Townshend before Daltrey cuts in, reaching further back: “Even before that, we had a show in a school gym in Ann Arbor, Michigan. We turned up, set our equipment up in this little part of the gym, went about playing our songs. And the audience just kind of stood over the mouth of it. We didn’t know how we’d be received. But when we smashed the guitar at the end, they went absolutely nuts. So we thought, well … there’s hope.”
That hope, however, demanded persistence. Their American conquest was not immediate, nor was it without struggle. “It took a lot of schlepping,” Townshend told Cherwell wryly. “A lot of tour buses and cheap motels before we actually made it. An awful lot of work went into doing it. And it wasn’t until our record Tommy, which eventually led to us playing Woodstock, that we were really surrendered into American pop culture.”
Another early turning point was the Monterey Pop Festival in 1967, where the band shared the bill with Jimi Hendrix. “I felt it was wrong for The Who to go on after Jimi, to be honest,” Townshend admits with characteristic frankness, “because I felt he was a superior performer, and certainly a better guitar player. Though I won’t say he sang better than Roger, because he didn’t.” Such humility from one of rock’s most celebrated guitarists speaks volumes about the genuine respect these musical titans held for their contemporaries.
Those early American shows cemented a special relationship with audiences, particularly in New York. “They came and they had a good time and they shouted and screamed, but they really, really listened,” the band recalls with evident fondness. “We had experienced that in universities here in the UK. We played in lots of common rooms, and the students would sit down and have a drink or roll a joint and really listen. And now these days, a lot of people have got memories of meeting their future husbands and wives at Who shows, and they bring their grandchildren to see us. Us being out there performing for the last time is really just to say thank you.”
Discussing their setlist planning, Daltrey reveals the challenges of modern touring: “It’s very difficult. I can’t tell you what we’ll play.” Townshend adds that the technological demands of contemporary performances have transformed how they approach live shows: “Running a show these days is totally different from how it used to be. We used to turn up with a load of amplifiers, a PA that we set up on the stage. We knew what songs we would start with. And then as we went through the show, we would feel the emotion of the audience. And I used to shout out to the guys the next song. But in today’s technology world, where you mix the sound from out front, you have a light show and all that everyone seems to expect, it’s impossible not to have a setlist. Because you’re working as a military unit. The gun batteries rely on the infantry.”
When asked which songs he’s particularly excited to include, Townshend mentions ‘Love, Reign o’er Me’ as the track he’d most like to be remembered for. Daltrey, after some hesitation, suggests ‘Behind Blue Eyes’ is the best song he’s ever written, though he confesses he finds it impossible to pick just one favourite from their extensive catalogue. The tour is aptly named ‘The Song Is Over’ – a title that Townshend calls “Roger’s idea, and I think it’s brilliant”. The song from their 1971 Who’s Next album might feature in the setlist, though Townshend admits that they are still learning to play it.
Daltrey, when asked for advice he might offer his younger self after six decades in rock and roll, responds with a practical quip: “Yeah, read the contracts.” But he proves equally capable of deeper reflections when asked about how he feels he has evolved as a vocalist: “I can still sing songs in the same keys as back in those days, but it’s got a totally different quality. That’s because there’s 60 years of living coming out in that voice. Even though you’re saying the same word, the expression that’s being connected is just that bit different.” When describing the emotional connection he feels to the music, Daltrey becomes almost mystical: “It’s like an energy comes through me that I can only get when I’m singing songs that I love to sing and I’m passionate about connecting. There’s a feeling…I don’t feel whole unless I’m singing. That’s when I’m most comfortable in my life because I’m almost on another planet.”
While fans might expect the famously guitar-smashing Townshend to have a deep relationship with his instruments, he surprised the interviewers by describing guitars simply as “tools”. “I don’t have a relationship with a guitar,” he confessed. “It’s a tool…a slab of wood with strings.” This practical approach hasn’t stopped him from testing new models, however. “Recently, I bought two guitars online. I bought a Paul Reed Smith guitar, and a guitar called a Jackson, which is made by Fender now, I think. Both those guitars – I played them and they completely blew me away. But on stage, I have to go back to something which is proven, which I know is going to do the job and which isn’t going to fall apart in my hands because I’m pretty brutal.”
It’s a strangely utilitarian view from the man who elevated guitar destruction to an art form. The iconic image of him smashing a perfectly good Rickenbacker against the stage floor became as much a symbol of rock rebellion as any anthem in their catalogue. There’s something almost paradoxical about Townshend – the mania onstage masking a deeply thoughtful composer offstage. When asked what’s kept him going all these years, he looks inward: “Creativity has been what sustained me rather than performing. For me, it’s the link between the creative stuff and the performing. Whatever we play, the chances are I will have written it. So there’s that sense of closing a circle, having one last grab at trying to bring that thing to life.”
When pressed about a potential UK farewell show, both musicians remain noncommittal. Daltrey, having just completed a solo tour in Britain, notes the contrast, particularly in terms of travel logistics: “Touring America is a damn sight easier than touring the UK because for some reason or another the UK has decided to make it as difficult as possible to go from A to B. In America, you seem to want to make it as easy as possible.” Townshend acknowledges potential options – perhaps a week at the O2, a couple of weeks maybe at the Albert Hall – but points to their need for recovery time between performances, with Daltrey adding: “I’ve been ordered by my throat specialist to say you have to have a day off after every gig and after every three gigs you have to have two days off. Because otherwise you will wreck your voice and you will not be able to sing.”The North American Farewell Tour begins on August 16th in Florida and concludes on September 28th at the MGM Grand Garden Arena in Las Vegas. No overwrought farewells, no excessive spectacle – just two survivors of music’s most volatile era, raising a toast to the country that gave them back their echo. The music will never die, but this particular song is, indeed, over.
