I'm not the quiet one, everyone else is too loud," bassist John Entwistle sang on the Who's otherwise forgettable Face Dances album in 1981.

Still, John Entwistle -- who died of a heart attack Thursday in Las Vegas -- is remembered as the quiet one of the Who, which joined with the Beatles and Rolling Stones to form the great triumvirate of British rock bands. Entwistle, 57, was found dead in his hotel room on the eve of the Who's American tour, which was set to begin Friday in Las Vegas.

Band mates Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey wrote this on Townshend's Web site: "The Ox has left the building -- we've lost another great friend."

Nicknamed the Ox for lugging the band's equipment in the early years, the stoic Entwistle stood as a bystander on the Who's stage, as Daltrey would give his microphones whiplash, Townshend would windmill his guitar often to death, and drummer Keith Moon would assault his drum set.

There, stage right, Entwistle played his six or eight-string bass -- no traditional blues, but rather complex melody lines, his diving fingers moving faster than any bass player seen in rock.

Entwistle was the Who's anchor man. And the Ox played loud. Everything the Who did was loud, of course, but who ever heard such a loud bassist before?

Who ever heard of a bass solo at a rock concert? Who ever heard of a rock band occasionally featuring a French horn?

Then, people heard John Entwistle.

He had formal musical training in London before playing Dixieland jazz in 1958 with a scrawny kid named Townshend. Entwistle, Townshend and Daltrey then started the Detours in 1960; by 1964, the mod Detours had become the mod Who, with Keith Moon on drums, and on bass a man who could play the trumpet, piano and French horn.

Listen to Entwistle's French horn in "My Wife," a song he wrote:

My life's in jeopardy

Murdered in cold blood is what I'm going to be

I ain't been home since Friday night

And now my wife is coming after me ...

Like his quiet counterpart on the Beatles, the late George Harrison, Entwistle's contributions were overshadowed by his band mates. But unlike Harrison's classic love song, "Something," Entwistle's "My Wife" was a nasty little affair of the heart. His other Who tunes included "Boris the Spider" and "Fiddle About." They are not first-date songs. They are songs from a man who had a dark, sensible sense of humor.

He clearly had a supporting role in the Who, but he was never buried. His stage non-presence had presence -- unlike the Stones' quiet one, bassist Bill Wyman. Clearly there was a place for Entwistle's music in the band. In 1969, the Who even kicked off its Woodstock set with Entwistle's "Heaven and Hell."

Anyway, how could anyone stand out in a group with the hyperactive Moon (who died in 1978), prototypical lead singer Daltrey and prototypical tortured genius Townshend?

Since Entwistle's death, it's the little things that stand out:

In "Summertime Blues," Entwistle's vocal cameo as the congressman: I'd like to help you son, but you're too young to vote. Entwistle's connect-the-dots artwork for the cover of The Who by Numbers album. And from the Who's 1978 documentary, The Kids Are Alright, Entwistle seen skeet shooting, using his gold records as targets.

With his death comes that familiar kick in the gut. After we get our wind back, we are reminded once again that the greatest rock bands are indeed dying before they get old. The Beatles are two. The Who are now two. The Stones -- who lost founding member Brian Jones so many years ago, and then Wyman left the band to almost no one's notice -- will tour again. It won't be pretty, but it probably will be profitable.

The Who will regroup. A later posting on Townshend's Web site Friday read: "We are going on. First show Hollywood Bowl. Pray for us, John, wherever you are." But there is never any replacing pieces of a wonderful whole, merely substitutions.

For fans, it just seems harder to regroup with each missing piece.