The Who’s Roger Daltrey, talkin’ ’bout his generation

Even Americans his own age may not fully grasp the world the legendary singer and his Who bandmates inhabited in postwar London.

“They can’t imagine. I was born in an air raid!,” Daltrey, 80, says with a guffaw so loud, I can’t quite make out his next joke, one that makes him laugh even harder.

Throughout our recent phone interview, the candid and proudly blue-collar Daltrey is quick to laugh and almost gleefully shout jokes about painful topics — whether lamenting a generation raised on screens (“I hate seeing my grandkids on TikTok. I pay them to leave their phones at home when they visit — but they’re discovering it’s a good way to earn a living!”) or reflecting on postwar food rations.

You get the feeling he could hold court until closing time at a neighborhood pub. And he will have a chance to do essentially that during upcoming Q&A sessions at Boston’s Leader Bank Pavilion, on June 20, and Tanglewood, on June 22.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Famer will also perform — with a band including guitarist Simon Townshend (Pete’s brother) — “a mostly acoustic set of Who gems, rarities, solo nuggets and other surprises,” according to billing.

In a wide-ranging interview, Daltrey talked about his personal “Young Man Blues,” how Mass General saved his voice, plans for a Keith Moon biopic, and more.

Q. I love that you’re doing Q&A sessions at these shows. How does that work?

A. We have a box at the entrance, people can write down questions. I’ll answer some. But my show comes with a warning: Sooner or later you’re gonna be offended. [Laughs.] Something will upset you. Get over it now or leave. I can’t take that micromanagement [expletive]. I’m too bloody old. [Laughs.]

Q. What music can we expect?

A. Influences from where I started in music — Appalachian music, blues. We play [Who] songs but present them differently. I’m expanding the palette. Not just using the same bloody colors all the time.

Q. I read your 2018 memoir, “Thanks a Lot Mr Kibblewhite.” You describe playing in bomb sites as a kid.

A. Bomb sites were the best playgrounds a kid could have. Health and safety, [expletive] off. [Laughs.] Kids need to find out what danger is — obviously to a certain level.

But it was a great time to grow up. Because we had a blank canvas to create our lives on. We created because everything was destroyed. Now there’s so much stuff out there swamping our young people with distraction. It’s destroying ‘em. Things like TikTok — it’s absolutely destroying their brains. It’s terrible. I hate it. [Laughs.] Oh well.

Q. You fell at a building site. It was heartbreaking to read how you were bullied at school after you fractured your jaw.

A. I was 9. [I tripped] down on the concrete slab. I was unusual looking with that big [swollen] jaw. It was not a pretty sight for a long, long time. Still not a pretty sight! [Laughs.] But I’ve managed. And I was small. Small ones seem to be the ones picked on.

Q. At one point you felt suicidal.

A. Well, I didn’t belong. I felt lonely. But it’s one of those things you get through. I don’t know whether anyone’s ever got through life without once thinking: “I wish I wasn’t here.” It’s a part of the human psyche.

Q. You said you took your mom’s sleeping pills.

A. I slept for 24 hours. They thought, “He must be ill.” [Laughs.] Because I was always up at 5 a.m.

Q. Mr. Kibblewhite threw you out of school.

A. I was rather naughty. Hated rules. I got thrown out. He said, “You’ll never make anything of your life, Daltrey.” It spurred me on. Bloody well show you.

Q. I bet. You worked a few different jobs.

A. My generation, we were going to work at 11 years old. I worked in the laundry at 11. Hardest job I’ve ever done in my life. That’s where I got my shoulders. [Laughs.]

Q. You made your first guitar.

A. That’s another thing with my generation: Everything we wanted, we had to make. If we wanted a snazzy suit, we’d buy a cheap suit that fitted like a bag of laundry and learn to sew. Darn our socks. Buy a lump of leather and mend our shoes. How many youngsters today know how to put a sole on a shoe? And before you learned to mend, you put a piece of cardboard over the hole. [Laughs.]

Q. You started out forming a skiffle band.

A. Everybody had a skiffle band then. It was our entertainment. We didn’t have the distractions computers offer up.

Q. Then you knew Pete Townshend and John Entwistle from school. They were younger than you, but you’d seen them around.

A. You couldn’t hide them in a crowd. Pete was a bone with a nose. Sorry, Pete. [Laughs.] And John walked with a John Wayne gait. [When they joined] I knew immediately they had a certain syncopation that was different than every band out there. Then the search for a drummer became critical.

Q. Keith Moon walked up at a show to ask to be your drummer.

A. He said, “I can play better than the one you got now.” Once he started playing, I could feel it. The band had a different energy. The Who were always about this incredible energy.

Q. What were the craziest moments with Keith?

A. How long have you got? [Laughs.] Too many. I’m about to embark on getting my film on Moon made. You could call it a biopic, but it’s deeper than just a series of events.

Q. How far along are you now?

A. At the moment, [looking] at directors. We’re excited about the script. I’ve got to give them the final draft, which I have in my head. But I need to work with a director. I would like to be filming by mid-September. I’ve got ideas for casting.

Q. You never liked that journalists only wrote about the Who smashing guitars, never the sound of it. You wrote that it sounded like an animal being sacrificed.

A. I suppose everybody looks at the easy thing to write: “Oh, he’s smashed his guitar!” But it was more to do with the sound. When that guitar was sacrificed, it would scream like a beast being slaughtered. Pete used to torture it before putting it to death. For me, that’s what it was about.

Q. There’s poetry in what you’re saying. Like some sacrifice to music gods.

A. Who shows were almost balletic. Pete would swing his arms, Keith would throw sticks in the air and catch ‘em. It was a circus act syncopated with music. I count it more like a ballet.

Q. So you’re feeling good now. You had an operation at the Voice Center at Mass General around 2011.

A. The Voice Center at Mass General saved my voice. I’m singing better than ever and I put it all down to them. I got Adele in there. The scary bit was going under, thinking, “I might have no voice when I wake up.” It was traumatic, to say the least. When you wake up, you have to be silent for two weeks. Which becomes a nightmare.

Q. Do you have a favorite Who song?

A. I like them all. But I have a non-favorite. [Laughs.] “Won’t Get Fooled Again.” It’s so stuck to the track; it’s very hard to vocally move it anywhere. I can do that scream now, but I don’t want to.

Q. [Laughs.] Any favorite moments?

A. No, I loved all of it. Least favorite moments are the ones where I’ve been on stage, trying to sing on a cold and my voice completely goes. It’s such a horrible feeling. Because all an artist wants to do is to be there for his audience. I remember how hard it was to earn the money to buy my first concert. I’ll never not give them 100 percent. When it’s not there and there’s nothing to give, it’s a psychological battery, I’ll tell you.

Q. I bet. And what you just said — and it’s evident in the book — you truly cared so much about the music. I mean, there were times in the early days where you weren’t making any money.

A. If you’re getting $300 and breaking a $400 guitar, the numbers don’t add up. [Laughs.]

Interview was edited and condensed.