A couple of weeks before this gig, a funny thing happened to Pete Townshend: he was slated by the NME. Townshend responded to the offending article on his website with comments that were then reported everywhere. His message - that he was quietly delighted to still inspire such vitriol - was intriguing, but not quite as illuminating as what the incident said about him. This is a 55-year-old man who not only still reads a youth culture bible, but cares what it says about his band. The Who don't need the money, but they are hungry to be relevant.
The Beatles had more hits and the Stones were more infamous, but neither was as intrinsically bound up with the youth experience as gloriously as this band. From their humble beginnings as the mod-ish High Numbers, the Who traced the processes by which youthful innocence and exuberance is gradually confronted by real life and premature middle age.
Before an audience encompassing all generations, the Who delivered a breathtaking show, which not only made sense of their life's work, but also placed it in a new and unexpectedly vital context. They began, appropriately, with three from the early days, when the band was fumbling towards some kind of meaningful future. I Can't Explain, Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere, and Substitute were delivered with an energy that would shame bands half their age.
The surviving trio, it must be said, looked pretty good. Townshend is more withered than John Entwistle or Roger Daltrey, but was still magnetic, windmilling with a fury that suggests he's finally over the lingering torpor induced by rehab. With Pete pointing to the ceiling, they delivered a quadruple whammy of Baba O' Riley, Behind Blue Eyes, Don't Even Know Myself and Who Are You?, with Ringo's son Zak Starkey handling Keith Moon's parts with aplomb. These songs of early-adulthood alienation and identity crisis take on a newly universal hue when performed by men in their 50s still searching for inner meaning. Similarly, Daltrey's primal howl during Won't Get Fooled Again is a pivotal moment, echoed by 10,000 voices in a remarkable collective gesture of post-millennial confusion and catharsis.
Behind the drama, there is much humour. Townshend mock-wearily introduces You Better You Bet (from 1980) as "the Who's last major British hit", before adding, cheekily, "the only one Robbie Williams hasn't pinched!"
Townshend may not relish a role as elder custodian of the nation's youth, but it suits him. As for the band, they are revitalised and again on top of their game. The Who are living, legendary examples of the extraordinary power that music can achieve.
• The Who are at Glasgow's SECC (0870-040 4000) tomorrow, then tour.
