The bulk of the set is inevitably devoted to a 13-song suite that captures the high points of Tommy itself. For the band's fans and students of live rock, the emerging portrait is engaging, capturing the dynamism of the core instrumental trio: boiler-suited Townshend paces the stage, jumps midchord, and teases the crowd with his signature "windmill" strumming (yawning playfully, in fact, during "My Generation"); the late Keith Moon whirls across the top of his drum kit, crouches tensely as he reins in his formidable power for quiet accents, and mugs shamelessly, perpetually moving; and John Entwistle is the apotheosis of the inward bassist, standing otherwise motionless as he studiously plucks intricate, melodic lines that anchor the melee. Stage center, of course, is Roger Daltrey, whose matador poses, lassoed microphone flourishes, and tossing curls have since become the lingua franca of two succeeding generations of arena rockers.