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Roth's absence taints 'Van Hagar'
By Jeff Pizek Daily Herald Staff Writer
Posted Wednesday, July 21, 2004
Daily Herald Photo/Kate Dougherty
Van Halen returned to thunderous applause Monday night, playing the first of two shows at the United Center in Chicago.
Though the sold-out crowd ate up the veteran hard rockers' set, it was with a sense of resignation. After nine tumultuous years, the hit-makers are back in arenas, but the event fans truly want to see -- a reunion with original vocalist David Lee Roth -- still looks impossible.
Instead, they got Roth's successor, ex-Montrose vocalist Sammy Hagar. He's actually been the VH frontman longer than Roth was, but still smells like a replacement. While Hagar just looked happy to be working, signing autographs mid-song and donning every piece of clothing tossed at him, guitar wonder Eddie Van Halen, recovered from hip replacement surgery and a battle with tongue cancer, seemed in prime shape and genuinely glad to be alive.
Van Halen's appeal has always been dichotomous, and that push-pull was in evidence Monday. There's the "musician's" aspect, as Eddie's innovative guitar techniques and his drummer brother Alex's solid flurries inspired countless young rockers to expand and experiment with wilder styles.
Perhaps to avoid pretense, the band then filters that talent through shabby radio pop. While most of the guitarists Eddie has inspired require smarter words with smarter music, Roth's slimy tales of sexual conquest and Hagar's blustery anthems remain as vapid as those of contemporaries like KISS and Aerosmith.
Hence, the other side of Van Halen's appeal: slick, radio-approved faux hedonism.
Despite pre-tour claims to the contrary, the band's set leaned heavily on the so-called "Van Hagar" years. New songs "Up for Breakfast" and "It's About Time" (recorded for a hits compilation released this week) could have come from the same platters that produced dull strip club synth-rock like "Best of Both Worlds" and "Top of the World."
Hagar's beach bum presence and phlegmy howl (eerily similar to Michael Bolton's) sapped energy from the ubiquitous opener, "Jump," but his party dude 'tude kept the train of plastic post-Roth hits rolling.
All four members had a solo break, with Sammy doing an acoustic job on some sappy solo songs, and even Chicago native Michael Anthony made some rudimentary bass rumbles for the hometown crowd. Eddie and Alex were, of course, more clinical, but also more worthy of showoff time.
Early classic "Ain't Talkin' Bout Love" provided a late respite, where a complex riff became a genuine hook. Even in a Hagar-era soundtrack toss-off like "Humans Being" (from that disposable 1996 effects showcase, "Twister"), Eddie expertly blended melody and punch into his guitar solos.
Ending the set with the feel-good schmaltz of "Right Now," they still seemed to be back in 1993, hawking Crystal Pepsi.
In these moments, the most frustrating facet of Van Halen and, especially, Van Hagar, came forward: that such intense instrumental prowess habitually takes a backseat
to the lowest common denominator.
By Jeff Pizek Daily Herald Staff Writer
Posted Wednesday, July 21, 2004
Daily Herald Photo/Kate Dougherty
Van Halen returned to thunderous applause Monday night, playing the first of two shows at the United Center in Chicago.
Though the sold-out crowd ate up the veteran hard rockers' set, it was with a sense of resignation. After nine tumultuous years, the hit-makers are back in arenas, but the event fans truly want to see -- a reunion with original vocalist David Lee Roth -- still looks impossible.
Instead, they got Roth's successor, ex-Montrose vocalist Sammy Hagar. He's actually been the VH frontman longer than Roth was, but still smells like a replacement. While Hagar just looked happy to be working, signing autographs mid-song and donning every piece of clothing tossed at him, guitar wonder Eddie Van Halen, recovered from hip replacement surgery and a battle with tongue cancer, seemed in prime shape and genuinely glad to be alive.
Van Halen's appeal has always been dichotomous, and that push-pull was in evidence Monday. There's the "musician's" aspect, as Eddie's innovative guitar techniques and his drummer brother Alex's solid flurries inspired countless young rockers to expand and experiment with wilder styles.
Perhaps to avoid pretense, the band then filters that talent through shabby radio pop. While most of the guitarists Eddie has inspired require smarter words with smarter music, Roth's slimy tales of sexual conquest and Hagar's blustery anthems remain as vapid as those of contemporaries like KISS and Aerosmith.
Hence, the other side of Van Halen's appeal: slick, radio-approved faux hedonism.
Despite pre-tour claims to the contrary, the band's set leaned heavily on the so-called "Van Hagar" years. New songs "Up for Breakfast" and "It's About Time" (recorded for a hits compilation released this week) could have come from the same platters that produced dull strip club synth-rock like "Best of Both Worlds" and "Top of the World."
Hagar's beach bum presence and phlegmy howl (eerily similar to Michael Bolton's) sapped energy from the ubiquitous opener, "Jump," but his party dude 'tude kept the train of plastic post-Roth hits rolling.
All four members had a solo break, with Sammy doing an acoustic job on some sappy solo songs, and even Chicago native Michael Anthony made some rudimentary bass rumbles for the hometown crowd. Eddie and Alex were, of course, more clinical, but also more worthy of showoff time.
Early classic "Ain't Talkin' Bout Love" provided a late respite, where a complex riff became a genuine hook. Even in a Hagar-era soundtrack toss-off like "Humans Being" (from that disposable 1996 effects showcase, "Twister"), Eddie expertly blended melody and punch into his guitar solos.
Ending the set with the feel-good schmaltz of "Right Now," they still seemed to be back in 1993, hawking Crystal Pepsi.
In these moments, the most frustrating facet of Van Halen and, especially, Van Hagar, came forward: that such intense instrumental prowess habitually takes a backseat
to the lowest common denominator.
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