Northern Girl
10-31-2004, 10:06 AM
Sun, October 31, 2004
Van Halen rocks Barn
Arena rock's spirit lives at last Maroons Road show
By DARRYL STERDAN
There are housewarming parties. There are housewrecking parties. And only a doofus would invite the same people to both. With that in mind, it's obvious the reunited Van Halen were the perfect band to close down the old Winnipeg Arena last night -- just as it's obvious they would have been the worst band to open the new MTS Centre.
Never mind the mess (would you invite these lummoxes to your new digs? Didn't think so). We're talking karma. Had Van Halen christened the new arena -- which was a possibility at one point -- it would have been bad juju. At the MTS Centre, their mullet-head party-rock would be anachronistic at best and embarrassing at worst; like running into your uncle at a trendy new club. But having them perform last rites at the old building was so right. Comforting even -- like watching your uncle take off his shirt, put the lampshade on his head and do the Bird Dance at Christmas.
OK, so it was Halloween weekend and not Christmas. And lead bellower Sammy (Dave? Dave Who?) Hagar was sporting a green tuque instead of a shade. And guitar-wank virtuoso Eddie (sorry -- Edward) Van Halen was the shirtless one. But you get the point. Which is, basically, that Van Halen were everything anyone could have expected them to be.
That is to say, dumb. And loud. And dumb. And self-indulgent. And dumb. And bombastic. And did we mention dumb?
Not that we're complaining. No sirree. We are not going to sit here with our snoot hoisted and complain that Van Halen are irrelevant, or sexist, or insipid, or laughable. Because here's the thing: Van Halen have always been irrelevant, sexist, insipid and laughable. That's the whole point of Van Halen. If you wanted meaning last night, you should have rented a Fellini film. Or just burned your money and saved time.
On the other hand, you got plenty of bang for the buck if you were buying what Van Halen was selling. Which was a Garden Variety, Slickly Professional, Arena Rock Spectacle. They opened with Jump on the dot of 8:30 p.m. They played Runaround, Somebody Get Me a Doctor and It's About Time.
At press time, they were working up to expected closers Panama and You Really Got Me. Nothing to complain about there. Hell, if you closed your eyes, it was 1986 all over again.
If you opened them, it wasn't much different. Eddie bounced and whirled like some crackhead Tasmanian Devil (not bad when you consider the guy's got an artificial hip). The stage had stairs, looping ramps and corrals that put fans in the centre of the action.
The light show and video screen were eye-catching. Sammy yelled, "Hello, bay-bee!" Everybody got their solo spot. Eddie's guitars went weedly-weedly-weedly-weeeeee! like a squealing pig. Alex Van Halen's bass drums went bloogada-bloogada-bloogada like a misfiring Harley. Michael Anthony's bass (shaped like a Jack Daniel's bottle) went bowwwmmm-dowwwmmm-dowwmmm like an approaching earthquake. Even Sammy got a solo spot.
OK, you could complain about that.
Come to think, you could also complain the set was short on David Lee Roth classics like Hot for Teacher and Runnin' With the Devil and long on Cheez Whiz like Why Can't This Be Love? and the dreaded new songs.
And you could complain about the overpriced tickets, which went from $60 for nosebleeds to $120 for anything ahead of centre ice on the floor and sides. Judging by folks we talked to in the days before the show, the band priced themselves out of a sellout by several thousand seats.
But you know what? None of that matters. Because when it was all said and done, last night wasn't about money to many fans who spent the evening on their feet cheering. It wasn't about whether the ridiculously gregarious party-dude Sammy is better than the ridiculously slimy horndog Dave (which he ain't, so get over it). It wasn't about how many hits they played. Hell, for a lot of folks, the evening wasn't really about Van Halen at all.
It was about nostalgia. About saying goodbye. About having one last party in your comfortably ratty old digs before you move into your fancy new place. And for that kind of a blowout, Van Halen wasn't a half-bad soundtrack.
VAN HALEN
Oct. 30, Winnipeg Arena. With Rose Hill Drive
*** out of *****
Van Halen rocks Barn
Arena rock's spirit lives at last Maroons Road show
By DARRYL STERDAN
There are housewarming parties. There are housewrecking parties. And only a doofus would invite the same people to both. With that in mind, it's obvious the reunited Van Halen were the perfect band to close down the old Winnipeg Arena last night -- just as it's obvious they would have been the worst band to open the new MTS Centre.
Never mind the mess (would you invite these lummoxes to your new digs? Didn't think so). We're talking karma. Had Van Halen christened the new arena -- which was a possibility at one point -- it would have been bad juju. At the MTS Centre, their mullet-head party-rock would be anachronistic at best and embarrassing at worst; like running into your uncle at a trendy new club. But having them perform last rites at the old building was so right. Comforting even -- like watching your uncle take off his shirt, put the lampshade on his head and do the Bird Dance at Christmas.
OK, so it was Halloween weekend and not Christmas. And lead bellower Sammy (Dave? Dave Who?) Hagar was sporting a green tuque instead of a shade. And guitar-wank virtuoso Eddie (sorry -- Edward) Van Halen was the shirtless one. But you get the point. Which is, basically, that Van Halen were everything anyone could have expected them to be.
That is to say, dumb. And loud. And dumb. And self-indulgent. And dumb. And bombastic. And did we mention dumb?
Not that we're complaining. No sirree. We are not going to sit here with our snoot hoisted and complain that Van Halen are irrelevant, or sexist, or insipid, or laughable. Because here's the thing: Van Halen have always been irrelevant, sexist, insipid and laughable. That's the whole point of Van Halen. If you wanted meaning last night, you should have rented a Fellini film. Or just burned your money and saved time.
On the other hand, you got plenty of bang for the buck if you were buying what Van Halen was selling. Which was a Garden Variety, Slickly Professional, Arena Rock Spectacle. They opened with Jump on the dot of 8:30 p.m. They played Runaround, Somebody Get Me a Doctor and It's About Time.
At press time, they were working up to expected closers Panama and You Really Got Me. Nothing to complain about there. Hell, if you closed your eyes, it was 1986 all over again.
If you opened them, it wasn't much different. Eddie bounced and whirled like some crackhead Tasmanian Devil (not bad when you consider the guy's got an artificial hip). The stage had stairs, looping ramps and corrals that put fans in the centre of the action.
The light show and video screen were eye-catching. Sammy yelled, "Hello, bay-bee!" Everybody got their solo spot. Eddie's guitars went weedly-weedly-weedly-weeeeee! like a squealing pig. Alex Van Halen's bass drums went bloogada-bloogada-bloogada like a misfiring Harley. Michael Anthony's bass (shaped like a Jack Daniel's bottle) went bowwwmmm-dowwwmmm-dowwmmm like an approaching earthquake. Even Sammy got a solo spot.
OK, you could complain about that.
Come to think, you could also complain the set was short on David Lee Roth classics like Hot for Teacher and Runnin' With the Devil and long on Cheez Whiz like Why Can't This Be Love? and the dreaded new songs.
And you could complain about the overpriced tickets, which went from $60 for nosebleeds to $120 for anything ahead of centre ice on the floor and sides. Judging by folks we talked to in the days before the show, the band priced themselves out of a sellout by several thousand seats.
But you know what? None of that matters. Because when it was all said and done, last night wasn't about money to many fans who spent the evening on their feet cheering. It wasn't about whether the ridiculously gregarious party-dude Sammy is better than the ridiculously slimy horndog Dave (which he ain't, so get over it). It wasn't about how many hits they played. Hell, for a lot of folks, the evening wasn't really about Van Halen at all.
It was about nostalgia. About saying goodbye. About having one last party in your comfortably ratty old digs before you move into your fancy new place. And for that kind of a blowout, Van Halen wasn't a half-bad soundtrack.
VAN HALEN
Oct. 30, Winnipeg Arena. With Rose Hill Drive
*** out of *****