The show was pretty much fantastic. The band was super-tight, the legendary showmanship was there, the sound was excellent, despite the high volume - the levels at the Budokan are much more bearable than a monstrous venue like the Tokyo Dome where I saw the Police perform earlier this year. The Budokan is also relevant because it's where so many great bands have performed in Tokyo. This was where The Beatles made their debut in Japan. Apparently, this is The Who's first visit to Japan. Unlike the Beatles, and the countless British bands that blessed Japan with concerts and tours in the 70's and 80's, The Who never made it here until now.

Roger Daltrey noted this fact with regret as he expressed how impressed he was by this "beautiful city and it's wonderful people."

The Budokan was as I expected: that Showa-era feel and interiors of a building constructed in the 60's. It wasn't hard to imagine the Fab Four walking around in it's corridors, since the place has probably never been renovated since. I'd seen videos of performances at the Budokan earlier (most notably Dream Theater and Yellow magic Orchestra), and it really does have that 'rock-and-roll' history feel. Before the show began, Thilo and I looked around at the mixing consoles, trying to guess what kind of software all that impressive array of equipment was running. We noticed the R.A.F Roundel motif everywhere.

The set began with Can't Explain, at a volume loud enough that made it impossible for me to excitedly ask Thilo if he'd heard/heard of the Scorpions cover version. The sound was muddy when it began but smoothened out rapidly. Maybe it was my ears getting used to the volume, but the later into the show we got, the better the vocals and guitar tone sounded. Pete Townshend actually changed guitars for every song - all Fender Stratocasters except for the acoustic guitar that appeared in the second encore. Despite their age, their on-stage antics were almost identical to what you can see in footage of their 70's performances (ask YouTube for Baba O'Riley) - Windmill strokes, and Thilo joking that 'a wireless mike would not work for him (Roger Daltrey).'

Obviously the most brilliant part was Baba O'Riley and the performance of a significant part of Tommy in the first encore.

I've noticed that while enjoying myself obviously make me happy, seeing other people enjoying themselves (to a greater extent than I am) actually not only makes me happier, but adds to it a warm, fuzzy feeling. I realized this during the ASIA concert in February 2007, when this forty-something lady in front of me simply went wild when the music began. Today, there was this quiet, fifty-something unassuming gentleman next to me, I guessed either a salary-man or a mid-level executive of some local company - who had come alone after a normal day of work, and I imagined that most likely he was suffering from that guilt associated with leaving the Japanese workplace earlier in the evening than is usually expected, skipping the almost regular overtime. When Baba O'Riley broke out, he went nuts, in a good way. I mean, imagine a suit-attired man like any other fellow you are squeezed against inside a crowded train, and here he is, sleeves rolled up, jacket thrown off and ecstatically singing along next to me, waving his arms in that rock and roll high. There's too much sentiment and joy to classify an experience like this as 'entertainment'.

At a time when keyboard solos were being done to death by all the other British progressive rock bands, Richard Wright was unique in his sense of coloring and complimenting the Floydian sound in unobtrusive, perfectionist yet emotionally powerful ways.
I've spent the last thirty days listening to a great deal of music from Pink Floyd's 70's phase: from Meddle to Animals - but with special attention to those fabulous sections where Gilmour and Wright harmonize (Us And Them, Echoes), and also where Wright sings lead - In Time for instance, his articulation of Roger Water's classic line about 'Hanging on in quiet desperation..'

Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say

The Classic Albums documentary on the making of The Dark Side Of The Moon features interviews where Alan Parsons takes these best vocal sections apart on a console, while Wright himself demonstrates how he borrowed a chord from Kind of Blue for Breathe.

Not that I was hoping to see a Pink Floyd reunion concert anytime soon (I think they all gracefully gave up that idea a few years ago), but one can't help feeling, as Waters himself states - that Rick's was a premature death.

I'm watching Echoes / Live at Pompeii: great organ sound, great harmonized vocals, no shirts on.

Strangers passing in the street
By chance two separate glances meet
And I am you and what I see is me.