The Who Shines in Farewell Tour at the Hollywood Bowl: Concert Review

I can say that I did not expect to be leaving the Who‘s visit to the Hollywood Bowl this week holding myself back from breaking into complete bawling. Yes, it’s a farewell tour, and one we’re pretty sure they mean as an actual swan song, but we’ve had those before, in recent years, like Elton’s final stop at Dodger Stadium three years ago, but all in fine, celebratory fashion without any moments that really felt like they called for a personal emotional outburst. Going into the Who’s “The Song Is Over Tour” — which played the Bowl Wednesday and Friday nights, and makes its last U.S. stop in Palm Springs Oct. 1 — bringing some tissue paper probably never occurred to most fans, considering more practical questions like:

Will this be a case in which they should have turned in their badges just a tour or two sooner? Will Roger Daltrey still be able to hit the high notes at 81, even if he still sounded shockingly fine at 78, when the Who last played the Bowl for an orchestral tour in ’22? Can Pete Townshend still athletically tilt at windmills at 80? And then the really quibbly stuff: Will we miss Zak Starkey in the drummer’s chair, after his recent disinvitation to soldier on with them through their last days? Why has “Going Mobile” finally been introduced into the show, only to have Pete’s brother Simon singing it? Do they really need all these extra players on stage? Why do they defy me by still leaving [fill in the blank with your favorite ’60s single], clearly their best song, out of the setlist?

But if these are the sorts of rock-geek thoughts that fill your mind going into a show, there is one song that is guaranteed to wash them all out, for good:

“Love, Reign O’er Me.”

It’s no surprise that the Who — or the Two, as fans sometimes call Daltrey and Townsend, long after the other original members are gone — would do a small selection of “Quadrophenia” songs near the end of any modern-day set, climaxed by this number, very arguably the greatest of all rock power ballads. But it is still surprising how awash in unabashed emotion it can feel, from a group that always wore its heart halfway out on its sleeve, but not always this fully. The irony of “Quadrophenia” as the band’s most accomplished concept album is that it’s so concentrated on a story of teen angst but that its peak song delivers on the eightysomething angst just fine. And when Daltrey delivers those climactic howls as well and as cathartically as he ever did, against all odds… the audience are not the only ones bowled over, as it turns out.

“That always fucking blows my mind, Rog,” said Townshend at the Bowl, a man who does not recklessly dole out compliments but knows the moment when one is called for.

“Love, Reign O’er Me” is a tearduct-loosener if ever there was one, and it had the added effect at this late date of triggering thoughts about how far we have or haven’t all come as mortal beings since the days of the Who singing about love and mods on the rocks. They were not done bringing us into pure emo mode. Following the “Quadrophenia” segment were the traditional two big numbers from “Who’s Next” (“Won’t Get Fooled Again” and “Baba O’Riley”), but for the actual close of the show, it was dealer’s choice. And what Townshend and Daltrey chose to deal to send us out with as our last live memories of the Who was tellingly affecting.

“The Song Is Over” is, weirdly, a number that the Who never deigned to do live — at all — until making it the title track of the farewell tour, and, at worst, you could argue that the pick is a little too on the nose. But it also happens to be a great song that deserves this place in the spotlight, however obvious the reasons for its belated addition might be. Daltrey has altered the lyrics, turning it from a kiss-off to a kiss goodbye, with “Thanks for all the years / I’ll always remember / Even if I live for a million years” replacing the original lines “I’m left with only tears / I must remember / Even if it takes a million years.” Following that, the six auxiliary players leave the stage to leave Daltrey and Townshend taking seats to perform “Tea & Theatre,” a still somewhat obscure latter-day effort from the “Endless Wire” album, with no attempt to rewrite the sadness inherent in lines like “This story is done / It’s getting colder now / A thousand songs / Still smolder now… We’re older now, all of us sad, all of us free.”

That should’ve been it, with Daltrey holding his actual tea aloft in salute, except now came the comedy part of the show — a routine somewhat unique to Wednesday night’s show at the Hollywood Bowl, or as Townshend called it, in cheekilyreferring to the venue’s world-famous shell, “Los Angeles’ kitchen sink.”

“It’s so ridiculous, doing this farewell tour,” Townsend said, “‘cause we’re still learning how to do the fucking thing.” 

“One day we’ll be good, really good,” promised Daltrey.

“Sometimes it gets better and sometimes it gets worse,” said Townshend, keeping the humility vibe going as he added, “Tonight was extremely average. I would ask for half your money back. You’ve been great,” he quickly added, even as Daltrey roared with laughter at the prospect of the audience bringing up “a fucking million lawsuits.”

“And so,” said Townshend, on the level for just a moment, “I can’t say ‘see you again,’ because we probably won’t.” The crowd groaned. “Unless it’s for a charity show. Roger and I will almost certainly work together in some shape or form. But we thought we might do a sort of a banjo band.”

“I’m gonna teach him sheet metal work,” said Daltrey, widening their prospects. “You’ll make a great metal worker, Pete — wield a hammer all day, it’s really easy. Yes. A sheet metal worker like I started out, it’ll be good for you.”

“I joined his band when I was 16,” said Townshend, suddenly even more ruminative. “I was still in fucking school. He came in, he’d quit the year before — or been expelled the year before — wandered in with his tight trousers and his teddy boy hairdo, and he said, ‘Do you wanna be in my band?’ And I said, yes, yes, yes. There was only one answer, yes. And he was a sheet metal worker. So he was the lead guitar player; I was the rhythm player, he was the lead guitar player. Fucking crap, but he was the lead guitar player.. Every other couple of days he’d come in and he’d say, ‘Pete, I can’t play.” And he’d have blood over his fucking hands. So that’s how I became the lead guitar player. It turned out you’re a pretty good singer, yeah?”

“I’m learning,” said Daltrey. “Look guys, thank you so much for coming. May you all have wonderfully healthy lives. May you all… What’s the magic message? Think lucky and… beeeeee lucky!”

A fairly mirthful way to end the show, that was, and yet, if the self-consciousness of being aware that you were likely hearing “The Real Me” or “Behind Blue Eyes” or even a youthful lark like “Substitute” being played live for the last time was not enough to well up the eyes of a Who fan, hearing them banter spontaneously about their boyhoods for three minutes as the final “encore” was good enough to seal the crying deal. It may not have mattered how close to Daltrey’s and Townshend’s own age one is (and certainly there were a good share of younger folks at the Bowl, too): This show, at least in part, is about getting in touch with your mortality… vigorously.

Any concern that they maybe should have bowed out of the game a bit earlier was quickly extinguished. The version of “I Can’t Explain” that they began the show with was definitely not the most aggressive version the Who has ever played, but there was something about its placement at the opening that served as kind of a great joke, whether they meant it that way or not — the idea that you can reach your 80s and still be incapable of fully articulating the things that ail you.

Not as great a gag, of course, as the sheer chutzpah of still doing “My Generation” at this far a generational remove. For anyone who ever thought that Townshend might have regretted writing “Hope I did before I get old,” the joke was and is on them: There is more intentional irony in heaven and earth, Horatio, than is dreamt of in the doubters’ philosophy. And the Who’s current version of that signature song now includes an extended, jammy coda in which Daltrey repeatedly sings, “Talk about your own generation,” as if in rejoinder to some flack they’ve caught over the years, or maybe just a bit of inspiration aimed at the young. It didn’t hurt that Townshend also ended this multi-part “My Generation” with a wonderfully odd guitar solo that sounded like it could have been ripped out of the Jack White playbook.

Anyone wondering how “the new drummer,” Scott Deavours, would fit in need not worry. Starkey, who left under contentious circumstances (and some obvious personal heartbreak for him), is missed — the wild man element that stretched back to Keith Moon’s day is gone. But with Deavours, who has played in Daltrey’s solo band and previously filled in with the Who on occasion, you get someone who plays a very clean version of all those thunderous parts. And his near-constant smile is contagious — so maybe given his aptitude, and the dignity of the blokes he’s playing behind, maybe it’s all right that you feel assured no hotel rooms will be wrecked. (“Very difficult position in this band,” Daltrey said, when introducing the drummer near the end, “although every position is difficult in this band.”)

There is that novelty factor of having just brought “Going Mobile” into a Who show for the first time, only to have Simon Townshend sing it. Pete introduced it by saying they’d recorded it for “Who’s Next” in one take, “maybe one and a half,” maybe signaling that the tune had never been that important to him then, let alone now. But in any case, the proof was in the pudding of performance: It sounded fantastic with Simon singing it, sounding like a dead ringer for his brother in his prime, and with the exuberant energy to match.

Pete Townshend’s own energy is nothing to sneeze at now; even if “wiry” is no longer his primary descriptor, he appeared engaged almost in disproportion to the amount of time he’s spend admitting over the years that he doesn’t love touring. He mentioned having had a knee replacement, which doesn’t seem to have hobbled him too much; he did a very brief mock-duckwalk during an interlude of “Long Live Rock.” And maybe while he was having his knee taken out, he also had some cartilage removed from his shoulders, because pulling off the trademark windmill swings at his guitar is still not a problem for him. As for his occasional lead vocals, he remained well capable of a good, old-fashioned phlegmatic growl in his biggest showcase of the night, “Eminence Front.”

“5:15,” the biggest rouser from “Quadrophenia,” seemed in theory like it might suffer from the lack of horns, which were most recently in abundance on the orchestral tour and had been brought out even on normal band outings. But somehow, without the brass, this actually turned into the night’s most effective all-out rocker, extended into a jam that left the mod setting of the storyline for something that felt a bit closer to the psychedelic era by the end.

One other favorite moment was just an aside: During “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” following the line “The hypnotized never lie,” Daltrey added to the studio version, as is now his wont, “DO YA?” It wasn’t exactly what you’d call an accusatory moment, but it was just enough to remind you that, in the words of the Sex Pistols, they still mean it, man.

A thousand years from now, when what’s left of the race will need to show the aliens or whoever what a rock band was, yes, maybe they will play them excerpts of the Who playing live at Leeds or some other moment from their scrappy, all-devouring prime… but you know what? Clips from this farewell tour would do, too. They are going out on a high. The band that once was arguably rock’s greatest is going out on a high that is still a hell of a lot closer to delirium than resignation. Accept substitutes, because you’ll have to, but know there really are none. And when you hear Daltrey sing “Don’t cry” during “Baba O’Riley,” feel free to disregard that as an order.

Setlist for the Who at the Hollywood Bowl, Sept. 17, 2025:
I Can’t Explain
Substitute
Who Are You
Long Live Rock
I Can See for Miles
Pinball Wizard/See Me, Feel Me/Listening to You
Love Ain’t for Keepin’
Behind Blue Eyes
Eminence Front
My Generation
Cry if You Want
You Better You Bet
Going Mobile
The Real Me
5:15
Love, Reign O’er Me
Won’t Get Fooled Again
Baba O’Riley
The Song Is Over
Tea & Theatre