September 13, 2004
EVERYBODY WANTS SOME
I WANT SOME TOO
So as I said a couple posts ago, I went to see Van Halen last Thursday night.
It was their first tour with Sammy Hagar on vocals since October 1995, and the band's first since 1998, when Gary Cherone (who?) was the lead singer. The set list for the show - except for an accoustic song by Sammy somewhere in the middle - was as follows:
1. Jump 2. Runaround 3. Humans Being 4. Up For Breakfast 5. Mike Anthony's Bass Solo (with the Jack Daniels bass) 6. Somebody Get Me A Doctor (Anthony on lead vocals) 7. Poundcake 8. It's About Time 9. Alex Van Halen's Drum Solo 10. Top Of The World 11. Unchained 12. Why Can't This Be Love? 13. Eagles Fly 14. Deeper Kind Of Love 15. Learning To See 16. Best Of Both Worlds 17. Eddie Van Halen's Guitar Solo 18. Dreams 19. Ain't Talkin' 'Bout Love 20. Right Now Encore: 21. You Really Got Me 22. Panama 23. When It's Love
Here's the deal: Bass solos went out of style back in... well, they were never in style. It's just a technique to let the band go backstage and drink. Mike Anthony has many talents. Holding the attention of 9,000 or so fans for 15 minutes by grinding his axe into the amplifiers and spitting Jack Daniels isn't one of them.
Alex Van Halen as a drummer always seem to be a guy who didn't understand less was more. First, his drums have always sounded like he was banging on Tupperware. Second, why does a drummer need three bass drums? What's he going to play the third one with? (Don't answer that.) His solo was another 15 minutes of my life that I'll never get back again.
Sammy... well. I like Sammy. Sammy and I have a little history. Okay, very little. But we did cross paths in a lobby once.
Sam sang an accoustic song about wanting to be in the Carribean while being trapped in a cold, northern town. Nice idea, but it added nothing. No one knew the song, and quite frankly, no one this time of year wants to be anywhere near the Carribbean. I think he was making a point about living near the Tropic of Capricorn, but with Ivan at that time staring us down and churning toward us, the romance of the forelorn idea was lost on most of the audience. Or at least on me.
Eddie's solo was, well, an Eddie solo. He showcased the whole repertoire. The fret fingering, the horsey sound with the wah-wah bar, the whole ball of wax. It wasn't very melodical, but then, Eddie's the guitar gymnast. It didn't make sense, but at least I can say I saw him play guitar while doing the Curly Shuffle.
A side note: Eddie looks, um, really bad. He's let his hair grow out, but he's shaved the sides. He's white as a ghost and heroin-addict thin. I turned to my friend Curtis and said, "How did they put Eddie Van Halen's head on Iggy Pop's body?" It was that bad.
At one point, he walked behind his amp stack and lit a cigarette, puffed a couple times and then stuck it, trademark style, on a guitar string and let it burn.
"That's what you like to see,'' Curtis said, "a former throat cancer patient lighting up.''
All in all, I was glad I finally got to see the band. The set list was a little weak, a little heavy on the Sammy-era power ballads. It was still a decent show.
But lt me tell you people - and many of you might not know this, so consider it a service to you from me - the '80s are officially over.
Not that many of you have absorbed that fact. I say this after witnessing the human boulliabase that showed up to witness this event.
Take a look for yourself:
Tough cigarette chicks, on the next "Maury."
I've got it bad, got it bad, got it bad. She's a not-so-hot retired teacher.
I didn't know Frederick's of Hollywood still sold lace-up hooker pants.
Nice shoes. They look like Eddie's guitar.
There are two sad possibilities here: He bought them in 1979 and still wears them, or, he bought them last week. Either way he goes, he loses.
T-shirts started at $35. Started.
Coincidentally, that's how much the band spends on Metamucil each day.
That's not dry ice or stage fog. It's Eddie lighting up a Lucky Strike backstage.
The woman on the right was upset that the concession stand didn't stock any Leather Blouse Repair Kits.
The band may, as your shirt says, kick ass.
You and your poodle perm hair, my friend, do not.
By the way, the valet has brought your Camero around to the front curb.
This is the dude who was sitting next to Mr. Poodle Perm.
I think it's always important to wear your camo hunting hat when you go to a concert. Makes you less conspicuous. Helps you blend.
This photo was not an attempt to show you the stage.
It was intended to simulate the eyesight of the band's rapidly aging fan base.
The next tour, I'm told, will be sponsored by a glaucoma specialist. Posted by Jeff at September 13, 2004 07:06 AM
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