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This can’t be love
by Mike Bell
Calgary Sun
On Oct. 26, walking into the Saddledome was like walking into a time capsule. The hair, the fashion, the feelings and, most importantly, the music was from a bygone era of rock ’n’ roll.
NO MASTER OF HIS DOMAIN ... Van Halen guitarist Eddie Van Halen soloed through much of the band’s concert on Oct. 26 at the Saddledome.
It was an era where video made you a radio star, where fluff was considered heavy, where spandex was considered manly, and where Van Halen ruled the airwaves.
A request, if I may — can we seal the capsule back up again and bury it? Six feet under.
It shouldn’t be too difficult as Halen and their almost sold-out show seemed more than happy to supply the justification, if not the shovel.
Their loud, obnoxious set showed off the worst of ’80s mainstream metal in a manner that was as laughable as it was meandering.
The band, featuring the core of Eddie and Alex Van Halen, and Mike Anthony, along with newly reunited singer Sammy Hagar — put on a show that was as close to parody as you could possibly get.
Yeah, they had energy, but it was unchanneled and unfocused — it was like watching a frat party hosted by drunken, feces-throwing monkeys. Much like the music itself.
Charitably, maybe part of that was the sound, which was soupy and almost unintelligible for the first three-quarters of the concert. But the performances were also so ADD and such a mess that unless you were on the same level as the band — gawd only knows exactly what that level was — it was almost impossible to relate to.
And this, despite the fact they opened with one of their most popular hits, Jump. Well, technically, they didn’t really open with that song. They opened with a minute-long instrumental wank-fest that was a pretty good indicator of what was to come.
So self-satisfying was the playing, the concert should have been issued a XXX rating.
Everyone got their solo, but Eddie, who seemed at times a little gooned up and out of it, indulged the most. Of course he’s an amazing guitarist, but every second of every song seemed about trying to prove that, much to the detriment of the songs.
And his 20-minute guitar solo? If I’m going to spend an evening watching somebody enjoy themselves so much, her name is going to be Trixi and she’s going to bring a friend.
The noise made the debate over who should have been the vocalist for the Best of Both Worlds Tour — David Lee Roth or Hagar — entirely moot. The vocals were often so buried by Eddie’s guitar that it didn’t matter who was singing the hits of yesteryear.
Sammy didn’t help in putting away the ghost of Roth — in fact he’s a whole lot less interesting to watch.
As for Van Halen itself, they didn’t even need to play their embarrassing new song, Up for Breakfast, to show the only thing they have to offer is a one-way trip back in time. One that unfortunately doesn’t offer a refund.
To Van Halen’s credit, the night’s opening act Rose Hill Drive wasn’t the nostalgia show norm of being an even more irrelevant act as the headliner.
The trio of stoner rock hairbags riffed up an enormous storm that was as guttural as it was out there. The weight the three of them threw out, a la Queens of the Stone Age-meets-Phish, was heavy, psychedelic bliss.
They provided the gonads to an evening that would have otherwise been sorely lacking that part of the package.
REVIEW THE REVIEW: Post Your Comments Here.
2004-10-26
by Mike Bell
Calgary Sun
On Oct. 26, walking into the Saddledome was like walking into a time capsule. The hair, the fashion, the feelings and, most importantly, the music was from a bygone era of rock ’n’ roll.
NO MASTER OF HIS DOMAIN ... Van Halen guitarist Eddie Van Halen soloed through much of the band’s concert on Oct. 26 at the Saddledome.
It was an era where video made you a radio star, where fluff was considered heavy, where spandex was considered manly, and where Van Halen ruled the airwaves.
A request, if I may — can we seal the capsule back up again and bury it? Six feet under.
It shouldn’t be too difficult as Halen and their almost sold-out show seemed more than happy to supply the justification, if not the shovel.
Their loud, obnoxious set showed off the worst of ’80s mainstream metal in a manner that was as laughable as it was meandering.
The band, featuring the core of Eddie and Alex Van Halen, and Mike Anthony, along with newly reunited singer Sammy Hagar — put on a show that was as close to parody as you could possibly get.
Yeah, they had energy, but it was unchanneled and unfocused — it was like watching a frat party hosted by drunken, feces-throwing monkeys. Much like the music itself.
Charitably, maybe part of that was the sound, which was soupy and almost unintelligible for the first three-quarters of the concert. But the performances were also so ADD and such a mess that unless you were on the same level as the band — gawd only knows exactly what that level was — it was almost impossible to relate to.
And this, despite the fact they opened with one of their most popular hits, Jump. Well, technically, they didn’t really open with that song. They opened with a minute-long instrumental wank-fest that was a pretty good indicator of what was to come.
So self-satisfying was the playing, the concert should have been issued a XXX rating.
Everyone got their solo, but Eddie, who seemed at times a little gooned up and out of it, indulged the most. Of course he’s an amazing guitarist, but every second of every song seemed about trying to prove that, much to the detriment of the songs.
And his 20-minute guitar solo? If I’m going to spend an evening watching somebody enjoy themselves so much, her name is going to be Trixi and she’s going to bring a friend.
The noise made the debate over who should have been the vocalist for the Best of Both Worlds Tour — David Lee Roth or Hagar — entirely moot. The vocals were often so buried by Eddie’s guitar that it didn’t matter who was singing the hits of yesteryear.
Sammy didn’t help in putting away the ghost of Roth — in fact he’s a whole lot less interesting to watch.
As for Van Halen itself, they didn’t even need to play their embarrassing new song, Up for Breakfast, to show the only thing they have to offer is a one-way trip back in time. One that unfortunately doesn’t offer a refund.
To Van Halen’s credit, the night’s opening act Rose Hill Drive wasn’t the nostalgia show norm of being an even more irrelevant act as the headliner.
The trio of stoner rock hairbags riffed up an enormous storm that was as guttural as it was out there. The weight the three of them threw out, a la Queens of the Stone Age-meets-Phish, was heavy, psychedelic bliss.
They provided the gonads to an evening that would have otherwise been sorely lacking that part of the package.
REVIEW THE REVIEW: Post Your Comments Here.
2004-10-26
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