There is no doubt that many of you cretins remember the time and place well where you were when VH 1 was released. The same place where you are now, your parents basement. Not much has changed there, either. Maybe the smell of wank and your personal B.O. is more profound and internet porn has replaced your Wonder Woman Lynda Carter masturbating sessions. Van Halen 1 must have been the godsend for the cretin rejected for the 7th time from prom, homecoming or any other social activity where girls such as that hot cheerleader “Rhonda” wanted more than a white suburban misfit who played with his Star Wars toys. What did that matter? She was the bitch with the F A T thighs and besides, your future was looking bright. You weren’t a failed musician…yet.


Eddie Van Halen in 1978 suffering from a spastic colon

The influence of Van Halen 1 on the soon to be failed musician must have been phenomenal. Four Californian kids (though none born there) who were gaining recognition for playing high volume rock at lame parities for peanuts and pre-college pussy were soon discovered by a make-up wearing semi-drag queen circumcised Jew (because the bass player and singer were Jews) who wanted to exploit them for quick fame. Most impressive was the whiz kid on guitar who, as rumor had it, was suffering from a benign diverticular colitis which gave his instrument a “brown sound” by literally shitting all over it. Problem was, like the rest of his band, he was poor. Everybody knows poverty and Jewishness go hand-in-hand, right?

Van Halen 1 was basic in content. Sure, there is the usual rock & roll tropes of wealth insufficiency such as Satanism, dick wetting, STD’s, dry masturbation and regret to be found here. The spaces between the metaphors are really fucking stupid to the point where they insult the listener but given with a high-octane, overwhelming firepower delivery no one cares to notice – even to this day. This is fast-paced in your face recording well deserved of much merit when one considers the “guitar gods” of the times were nothing more than pussies singing about their bloated drug use or dying from it. Of course it had its faults; there is an abundance of sexism but strangely enough the misogyny remains low key. Too bad they couldn’t repeat this mindset for further recordings.

So let’s talk about the songs, shall we? Van Halen 1 starts off in a rock & roll apocalypse of an air raid siren and F A T throbbing cock bass beats. Over-distorted power chords bounce back and forth as Roth does his best to disassemble his Bloomington, Indian white suburban roots. It really doesn’t work at least not for me for the inane lyrics are sung so deadpan that they innervate the appending guitar solos before they are reached. Doesn’t set the stage any better for what is follow.

Even with its impressive stance Van Halen 1 recycles itself in a monotonous direction but this time the fault lays with “producer” Ted Templeton who would rather coach this band then have any fun with it. Templeton had captured lighting in a bottle but way too fucking thick to ever realize it. Never is this any more prevalent than on this bullshit “2015 remaster” where (I guess) the reverb placed there by engineer Donn Landee has been toned down or stripped completely. What’s left is really up to the “true fan” interpretation of experiencing that jism feel after another jerk fest to [your] their Farah Fawcett poster.

Maybe this was done for the ‘iTune’ fuck Nazi who now wants his $700 piece of shit phone to sound like a $40 record player from Sears. While I gravitate towards the reverb absence that results in a punchier clarity in bass lines and particularly drum toms, the real joy is it also takes away from Roth’s cloying squeaking between lyric lines. Fuck yeah, or what? That’s the plus. The negative is how coached this band really was in the studio sequestering the creative spark this record might have had by going beyond a simple bass/drum backbeat(s) with a solitary guitar predominating any structural groove.

Templeton gave Van Halen 1 the soft treatment only allowing the songs to have a function as long as they were rapid, loud, and puerile. Not only that, he managed to somehow separate the songs from the band’s intention of them. There was always something hollow about this record (and the one to follow). No wonder many fans who were “there” at the time constantly state in those days their live shows were nothing like the record although the record was meant to sound like a live show.

So what’s left in this 2015 is a difference that the might have been is now what was never to happen. Or something to some such shit. The packaging offers no insight to the recording. Nowhere to be found are any sleeve notes, no rare photos, no recording dates, no unreleased takes. Nothing. I’d say if your loved your $40 Sears turntable this may interest you. Otherwise, pass.