The Who – Live at Shea Stadium 1982

My introduction to The Who happened in the fall of 1980. I was 13 years old on a class field trip, and someone had smuggled their tape player onto the bus (also known as a boombox for the uninitiated). There was one song I vaguely recognized from the radio, but what really caught my attention was when the entire back of the bus (where the cool kids sat) belted out the line, “It’s only teenage wasteland!”. This was done as loud as possible, and an unimpressed teacher confiscated the tape player.

A few months later, I bought Face Dances and sat in my room, trying to decipher what the lyrics were trying to tell me—like “how can you do it alone?” How can you do what? I had to know (and I had my suspicions).

Around this time, a local radio station broadcast an entire Who concert. I sat in front of my dad’s speakers with a tape recorder to capture it. I fell asleep to that tape every night for weeks.  

When the band announced what was to be their final tour in 1982, they also revealed that The Clash was opening for them on some dates. “Should I Stay or Should I Go” dominated the airwaves at WBCN out of Boston, and I scooped up Combat Rock as soon as I’d saved up enough of my allowance to do so. I never got to see The Who perform on that tour; I was too young to go, but I eventually saw them in 1989 (so much for their final tour, eh?).

Flash forward a few decades, and The Clash’s performance on Oct. 13, 1982, at Shea Stadium was released on vinyl in 2008. It immediately found its way into my collection. It would be another 16 years before I could say the same thing about The Who’s performance from that same night.  

On 3/1/2024, a week ago (as I write this), The Who-Live at Shea Stadium 1982 was delivered to my PO Box.

The vinyl release consists of 3 discs and a wonderfully written essay by Chris Roberts.  

And what about the music?

If you’ve ever tapped your foot to a song by The Who, you won’t be disappointed. I, for one, am not. Live At Leeds has long been held up as the quintessential live album by the band (and some would suggest a live album by anyone). The Who-Live at Shea Stadium 1982 might not match the power of a young band trying to make its way; after all, they were ten years older than that earlier effort, but there are moments of magic to be had here.

What I found most impressive about this performance was Kenny Jones. When he took his place on the drum throne after Keith Moon’s tragic death in 1978, he had big shoes to fill. For many fans and critics, his drumming paled in comparison. Moon was a tough act to follow. Jones had already made a name for himself with The Small Faces (and then The Faces), and now he was behind the drums for arguably the biggest band in the world after they had lost their beloved drummer. I don’t envy his position.

In hindsight, Jones fills the role impeccably well. He is powerful on the songs he contributed to from Face Dances and its 1982 follow-up, It’s Hard (released a month before this performance). The songs “Dangerous,” “Eminence Front,” “Cry If You Want,” and the title track are standouts here, as they should be since the band was touring to support the album. 

There are many “can’t help but smile” moments, primarily due to Pete Townsend’s unmistakable power chord attack. “Sister Disco” is an example of this (which I hummed for days). Townsend’s presence is all over this record. He stalks the sonic stage.

Roger Daltrey brings his A-game to songs like the ever-powerful “Love Reign O’er Me”, the earlier-referenced “Baba O’Riley” (from the bus), and “Who Are You”. A pleasant surprise, because I failed to see it on the track list, was the inclusion of “See Me Feel Me” from Tommy. It’s a great song that sounds just as brilliant here.

I will add that not every song has the same energy. “Behind Blue Eyes” and “Long Live Rock” don’t quite match up to the studio versions, and I had the sense they had become somewhat of a routine to Daltrey and were delivered by a band tired of touring. 

One disappointment on an album of high notes was “Quiet One”. John Entwistle’s auto-biographical song from Face Dances has long been a personal favorite of mine. It was a song I identified with as a teenager. The lyrics alone rival anything from the band’s catalog. Here, Entwistle’s bass is in top form, yet his vocals are somewhat buried in the mix and pushed to the left channel. Daltrey comes in on the chorus to help out. Had I not already fallen in love with the studio version forty-plus years ago, I wouldn’t have thought much of it here.

Those minor criticisms aside, songs like “Substitute”, “Can’t Explain”, and the Mose Allison classic “Young Man Blues” (first heard on Live at Leeds) bring to mind a band embracing their past while facing a future (in 1982) riddled with doubt and hope.

I’m sure they would be pleased with what that future would bring.