The first time The Who graced our shores it was a shit fight. After taking beer on a plane (umm, ahhhh) our then Prime Minister told them to get out and stay out. Pete Townshend, mastermind of rock, flounced home, band in tow, vowing never to return.

In 2009, forty years later, The Who has outlived the Prime Minister and the airline and Pete has relented, returning for a string of shows after a brief visit in 2004. This time their stadium circuit also includes the closing ceremony of the Australian Formula 1 Grand Prix in Melbourne.

The Grand Prix press conference got off to a wobbly start, as Roger Daltrey’s hearing nearly put us in the pits. When a reporter wondered how The Who was going to top KISS after last year’s Grand Prix extravaganza, Daltrey simply looked bemused. “I can’t hear you. I’m in a rock band.”

The question was repeated.

“I don’t know anything about KISS. Where’d they play?”
“At the Grand Prix.”
“Oh did they?” enquired Daltrey, pleasant, but not terribly interested.

Quite frankly, the Grand Prix interests these two almost as much as it interests me. Daltrey admits that he was once a guest at a motor racing event and while he enjoyed the time in the pits, he “might as well have been at home with a very loud Scalextric. I found it a bit weird.”

Given Pete Townshend’s love of cars, another journo directed a car-related question to the legendary guitarist. Roger took the lead admitting he had one car, and “that’ll do me. Why don’t you ask him [nods to Pete]? He’s got hundreds of – œem.”

“I did,” squeaks the writer, not quite loud enough. We all titter nervously, wondering if it’s going to be this awkward for the entire conference.

To our collective’s immense relief, Daltrey gives up and, as has been his practice for his entire career, defers to the boss – Townshend – who says despite the drama, he enjoyed his time Down Under.

“We had a ball on that trip, but the press were pretty scummy,” continues Townshend. Looking far more professional in black suit, black tee and white shirt than his casually dressed singer, he admits, “Roger did once say that I could hold a grudge for the longest time in human history [but] it was the fact that it was such a painful experience – for me – sensitive little soul that I was.” He laughs, resetting the mood and taking the reins, allowing Roger minimal right of reply for the duration of the conference.

After The Who phenomenon took the UK and US by storm, Townshend felt an immense pressure to “open up new territory” for the band. But with a young family and a tremendous disinterest in touring, the reality was “we just couldn’t meet that demand.”

“It was a shock to come back here and see what I’d been missing. Playing to the same crowd every night happens in the UK and America – œcause [fans] travel around; you look into the front row and it’s the same people. It’s nice to play to a completely new audience. So I did shoot myself in the foot but I can honestly say that I deeply, deeply regret not coming back.” We forgive you, Pete, we forgive you.

It’s safe to say it wasn’t so much the fans that twisted their arms and got them to Melbourne. It was promoter Andrew McManus. Explains Townshend, “Andrew said, – œCome at the same time as the Grand Prix.’ I’ve never been to a Formula 1 race, I’m travelling with my son Joseph, who’s 19 and we thought it would be a fun thing to do. But I’m not really into it very much,” he shrugs, before adding diplomatically, “but maybe I’ll get into it.”

For Daltrey, it’s less complicated. “It’s the music, basically. [Our music] is, in my opinion, some of the best of the 20th century’s popular music. [remember readers, it’s not bragging if you can do it] We’re not playing the same, but in some ways we’re playing better. We’re like an old wine.” The subject swing is clearly welcome. It opens up Townshend and once he gets on a roll, it’s fascinating. And excruciating to edit.

“I find it very easy to perform now,” agrees Townshend. “Everything about it is easier. We’re treated like,” he seems to do a quick scan of his vocabulary, “Well, we’re treated like royalty. It’s very different to the old days – it was very, very tough then. Now it’s like being on holiday,” he laughs. “And the show is really the easiest bit.”

Of course, the first time The Who ventured down our way, travel and homesickness were the least of their worries. The most of their worries was one Keith Moon, their original drummer and one who goes down in the rock annuls as being as crazy as a cut snake.

Muses Townshend, “You could never tell from one night to the next whether we’d have a peaceful night in the hotel, or get chucked out because Keith Moon had set fire to whatever.” Despite Keith’s death in 1979, memories of the famously nutty drummer still amuse Pete.

“The other day I saw a picture of Keith Moon lying naked on a rug and the caption was, – œKeith Moon is bored because Pete Townshend is working on new songs for the next album.’ And if he wasn’t doing that,” Townshend laughs, “He was dressing up as Adolf Hitler and going to kosher restaurants.”

As Townshend relaxes into his role as orator, Daltrey smiles alongside him. They strike me as the type of cockney odd couple prevalent in ribald English comedy skits. Keith Moon was not always a laugh, Townshend solemnly admits: “He once put cherry bombs into a hotel elevator – bang bang bang bang – the hotel manager’s wife got in and had a minor stroke.” He maintains the seriousness before slyly joking, “Anyway, he’s no trouble to us now.”

In a lovely twist, The Who’s modern day drummer is Zak Starkey, accomplished skins-man and son of Ringo. Prompted by a query of comparison between Keith and Zak, Townshend relates: “I’m not taking any credit away from [Keith], but he was a follower not a leader. Which is unusual for a drummer. I lead on guitar and he kept the rhythm tight but he was just all over the place, making stuff up; he was very creative. When he died, my reaction was, – œOh great, we can get a really great four on the floor drummer’ and Kenny (Jones, ex-Small Faces and Keith’s replacement) was exactly that – it worked for a while, but it didn’t seem to work with the old music Keith had invented. What Zak has done is bridge the gap.”

Roger finally pipes up with, “Keith gave him his first lesson.” Townshend turns to him, as if remembering Daltrey is there. “Yeah, Keith bought him his first drum kit. Ringo said, [puts on Ringo’s trademark accent], – œAh envited you rand – œere for a drink, not to pervert mah son and turn him into a fookin’ droommer.’ With Zak, he’s so familiar with what I do, and what I’ve done in the past, he almost knows what I’m going to do before I do it,” he laughs. “I find it unbelievably annoying.”

While Zak literally grew up with The Who, there’s a new generation of listeners who heard them first as the theme track to TV crime juggernaut, CSI. Daltrey is blunt, and refreshingly honest in an industry where some young bands still consider – œsyncing’ music to be selling out. “I don’t care where they heard it. Ultimately, there’s so many bands out there, there’s so much music. Anywhere you can get heard is alright by me.”

Townshend credits a more traditional forum with bringing The Who to the younger masses. It’s “playing festivals,” he says. “However, the other day I was at [a festival] and this young Ukrainian guy came up and said, – œI very much like your three songs from CSI.” And I said, “Oh, you’re a Who fan?” He said, “No. I very much like your three songs from CSI.”

Despite this snub, Townshend remains hopeful that the interest will encourage that young fan to explore their back catalogue further. But he appreciates that it probably won’t make him an album sale.

“I did a lecture at the Royal College of Arts in 1985 about music downloading and how it would wreck the industry. There were a thousand people there and about 750 of them walked out, halfway through. Afterward this guy came up and said, – œDo you really think that anybody would actually buy a record album without the artwork? Are you crazy?’ Now we’re living in the reality of it.”

Townshend admits the download prediction wasn’t his theory. It’s interesting to see someone who is considered one of rock’s first great control freaks appreciates the value in deferring to someone else. It will be something he does if and when it comes time to record new Who material.

Later songs recorded for Endless Wire (2006) are nowhere near as invigorating to play as their back catalogue. “A couple of [our earlier] songs are hard to top,” he says. “If you try, you end up parodying those songs. A lot of people didn’t like Endless Wire, they thought it pretentious, they think a rock band should just keep their eyes down and do the job. In a sense, we were thinking, – œThis new song is great, but there’s a song from 1967 which is better for our purpose as performers. So we’re proud of that album but if we make another, we need a direction. I think it means we need a producer.

I produced the last one and I wouldn’t say I’m unfocused, but most of the songs we’re playing, I wrote before I was 35 and some of the most famous ones when I was between 22 and 28. I was a clever little bastard.”

The Who has kicked off its Australian tour. The following dates are still to come.

Thursday 26 March – Adelaide Entertainment Centre
Saturday 28 March – Sunset In The Vines, Hunter Valley
Sunday 29 March – Grand Prix, Melbourne
Tuesday 31 March – Acer Arena, Sydney
Saturday 4 April – Members Equity Stadium, Perth