Northern Girl
12-16-2005, 06:47 AM
A Studio for the Coolest Guy in the Room
By ROBIN FINN
Published: December 16, 2005
LIVE large. Vent large. David Lee Roth, attired in several layers of urban black outerwear and very much at home in this penthouse suite at the W New York hotel, is doing both. And no, that's not the air-conditioning that's inexplicably cranked up: He has, on purpose, left the door to the patio wide open to admit the frigid evening air. Bracing! Similar to a large dose of him.
No wonder the prognosticators at Infinity Broadcasting are giving Diamond Dave with his singular pair of lungs - he calls his voice the audio version of ripped, wrinkled and rowdy vintage blue jeans or, in Japanese: wabi-sabi - a crack at reinventing himself next month behind a microphone in Howard Stern's kingless kingdom.
"The Hollander brothers are adventurous, danger-loving visionaries for hiring a guy like me," Mr. Roth announces. "I'm getting total control! Such an aberration in this industry! As an artist, this is a pre-eminent performance!" (Yes, he's excited about the new job.)
Would it be uncool to ask how come the wintry temperature en suite? Or to ask why the heck the former mouthpiece of Van Halen, the now-estranged assemblage known for hits like "Jump," "Panama" and "Runnin' With the Devil," slaps on a baseball cap and a moderately menacing headset before he acquiesces to having his picture taken? Maybe, but who cares? Not him. Turns out he is a tad sensitive about his unkempt mousy brown hair; the headset is a leftover from helicopter flying today in proud pursuit of a pilot's license he has craved since he read and watched "M*A*S*H."
Between bouts of self-generated hysteria - refreshing to see a guy from the jaded, celebrity side of the coin still able to get such a kick out of himself - he is a virtual open book, and even offers up, unsolicited, his bedside manner: "It's not who you sleep with," warns the never-married Mr. Roth, "it's who wants to sleep with you again." No fooling.
Best to get back to the weather in here. The patio door to the Great Outdoors is open because Mr. Roth, effervescent and vociferously verbal at 51 despite being 20 years past his rock-star prime, is a fresh air freak, even with the temperature hovering at freezing. Press him and he is liable to display slides of his treks to the Himalayas, New Guinea and other exotic spots.
To fend off the chill, his sips from a glass mug of black coffee are interspersed with giddier gulps from a tiny bottle of Courvoisier: Mr. Roth is no stranger to the joys of minibars. Besides, he has protocol on his side: "Oh please, it's Happy Hour," he rasps.
It is terminally clear who the coolest person in the room is: him, even if he did chop off his peroxide gold, titan-of-old-school-rock mane last year when the enlistment bug hit and he joined up, in quasi-anonymity, as an emergency medical technician. Talk about your unanticipated career segue. Now, he's metamorphosing again. Only this time, he's banking on his rocker reputation and talk is his new currency.
Same voice: "I think I'm the one single voice who has united the liberal left with the Nascar voting bloc," he says of the audience for his music, which encompasses six multiplatinum Van Halen albums and eight solo releases. Different gig: Mr. Roth is just a few weeks from taking over what he describes as "the hottest seat in American radio," Mr. Stern's at WXRK-FM, a job for which he deems himself uniquely qualified: Sure he can sing, but as a conversationalist, just wait, he will knock your socks off.
Not to digress - a specialty of Mr. Roth's, whose conversation has much in common with a ricocheting bullet - but his willingness to ingratiate himself with his not-as-hip interlocutor is less flattering than might be expected.
"Come on, I can bond with a fire hydrant," he says, explaining his faith in his conversational prowess. "I can interview a Dalmatian," he adds. "It's about the capacity to entertain, like at a really good Algonquin table. I've got a fourth-degree black belt in conversation; I think in bold caps!" Obviously.
HE is not, by the way, out to attempt anything so gauche as to replace Mr. Stern. "I'm not the new Howard," Mr. Roth says. "Your editorial bias is entirely based on your memories, and I couldn't think of more diverse backgrounds than between the two of us. The only thing I have distinctly in common with Howard is a wicked sense of humor. And Hanukkah."
Mr. Roth grew up in Indiana, and after his father attended medical school on the G.I. Bill, the family moved to Pasadena, Calif., where he encountered the Van Halen brothers and attended integrated schools, his explanation for cultivating a voice that "on a good day sounds like it belongs to a 75-year-old black guy." Muhammad Ali, James Brown and Errol Flynn (because he always got the girl) were templates; so was the Scarecrow from "The Wizard of Oz." Mr. Roth, who has an East Side apartment and an East Village office, values his brain.
His 6-to-10-a.m. slot starts Jan. 3 at the newly dubbed FREE FM, his home studio in New York City. (The first guest is his Uncle Manny Roth, who ran the storied Cafe Wha in Greenwich Village.) His only diva-esque request for revamping Mr. Stern's space was the installation of a 10-by-10-foot patch of parquet floor. He is an incorrigible pacer - "I call it Dave's famous walk to nowhere" - and plans to do his show standing up. Wearing army boots.
Go figure.
link (http://www.nytimes.com/2005/12/16/nyregion/16lives.html?adxnnl=1&adxnnlx=1134733090-kohv6IpaI/DSaXLMcMmGgw)
By ROBIN FINN
Published: December 16, 2005
LIVE large. Vent large. David Lee Roth, attired in several layers of urban black outerwear and very much at home in this penthouse suite at the W New York hotel, is doing both. And no, that's not the air-conditioning that's inexplicably cranked up: He has, on purpose, left the door to the patio wide open to admit the frigid evening air. Bracing! Similar to a large dose of him.
No wonder the prognosticators at Infinity Broadcasting are giving Diamond Dave with his singular pair of lungs - he calls his voice the audio version of ripped, wrinkled and rowdy vintage blue jeans or, in Japanese: wabi-sabi - a crack at reinventing himself next month behind a microphone in Howard Stern's kingless kingdom.
"The Hollander brothers are adventurous, danger-loving visionaries for hiring a guy like me," Mr. Roth announces. "I'm getting total control! Such an aberration in this industry! As an artist, this is a pre-eminent performance!" (Yes, he's excited about the new job.)
Would it be uncool to ask how come the wintry temperature en suite? Or to ask why the heck the former mouthpiece of Van Halen, the now-estranged assemblage known for hits like "Jump," "Panama" and "Runnin' With the Devil," slaps on a baseball cap and a moderately menacing headset before he acquiesces to having his picture taken? Maybe, but who cares? Not him. Turns out he is a tad sensitive about his unkempt mousy brown hair; the headset is a leftover from helicopter flying today in proud pursuit of a pilot's license he has craved since he read and watched "M*A*S*H."
Between bouts of self-generated hysteria - refreshing to see a guy from the jaded, celebrity side of the coin still able to get such a kick out of himself - he is a virtual open book, and even offers up, unsolicited, his bedside manner: "It's not who you sleep with," warns the never-married Mr. Roth, "it's who wants to sleep with you again." No fooling.
Best to get back to the weather in here. The patio door to the Great Outdoors is open because Mr. Roth, effervescent and vociferously verbal at 51 despite being 20 years past his rock-star prime, is a fresh air freak, even with the temperature hovering at freezing. Press him and he is liable to display slides of his treks to the Himalayas, New Guinea and other exotic spots.
To fend off the chill, his sips from a glass mug of black coffee are interspersed with giddier gulps from a tiny bottle of Courvoisier: Mr. Roth is no stranger to the joys of minibars. Besides, he has protocol on his side: "Oh please, it's Happy Hour," he rasps.
It is terminally clear who the coolest person in the room is: him, even if he did chop off his peroxide gold, titan-of-old-school-rock mane last year when the enlistment bug hit and he joined up, in quasi-anonymity, as an emergency medical technician. Talk about your unanticipated career segue. Now, he's metamorphosing again. Only this time, he's banking on his rocker reputation and talk is his new currency.
Same voice: "I think I'm the one single voice who has united the liberal left with the Nascar voting bloc," he says of the audience for his music, which encompasses six multiplatinum Van Halen albums and eight solo releases. Different gig: Mr. Roth is just a few weeks from taking over what he describes as "the hottest seat in American radio," Mr. Stern's at WXRK-FM, a job for which he deems himself uniquely qualified: Sure he can sing, but as a conversationalist, just wait, he will knock your socks off.
Not to digress - a specialty of Mr. Roth's, whose conversation has much in common with a ricocheting bullet - but his willingness to ingratiate himself with his not-as-hip interlocutor is less flattering than might be expected.
"Come on, I can bond with a fire hydrant," he says, explaining his faith in his conversational prowess. "I can interview a Dalmatian," he adds. "It's about the capacity to entertain, like at a really good Algonquin table. I've got a fourth-degree black belt in conversation; I think in bold caps!" Obviously.
HE is not, by the way, out to attempt anything so gauche as to replace Mr. Stern. "I'm not the new Howard," Mr. Roth says. "Your editorial bias is entirely based on your memories, and I couldn't think of more diverse backgrounds than between the two of us. The only thing I have distinctly in common with Howard is a wicked sense of humor. And Hanukkah."
Mr. Roth grew up in Indiana, and after his father attended medical school on the G.I. Bill, the family moved to Pasadena, Calif., where he encountered the Van Halen brothers and attended integrated schools, his explanation for cultivating a voice that "on a good day sounds like it belongs to a 75-year-old black guy." Muhammad Ali, James Brown and Errol Flynn (because he always got the girl) were templates; so was the Scarecrow from "The Wizard of Oz." Mr. Roth, who has an East Side apartment and an East Village office, values his brain.
His 6-to-10-a.m. slot starts Jan. 3 at the newly dubbed FREE FM, his home studio in New York City. (The first guest is his Uncle Manny Roth, who ran the storied Cafe Wha in Greenwich Village.) His only diva-esque request for revamping Mr. Stern's space was the installation of a 10-by-10-foot patch of parquet floor. He is an incorrigible pacer - "I call it Dave's famous walk to nowhere" - and plans to do his show standing up. Wearing army boots.
Go figure.
link (http://www.nytimes.com/2005/12/16/nyregion/16lives.html?adxnnl=1&adxnnlx=1134733090-kohv6IpaI/DSaXLMcMmGgw)