Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga

It started with the title. God bless ‘em for wanting to do it their way, or specifically Britt Daniel’s, but the shitty title is something that someone should have insisted and said “There’s no fucking way you’re titling your breakthrough album something that stupid-sounding.”
But in reality, maybe Spoon understands that their sixth album was going to be their breakthrough album, regardless of how stupid the title. The problem for me is that Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga doesn’t sound much like a “breakthrough” album; it sounds like another decent Spoon album that’ll probably reach a wider audience because, well, because they’re good enough that they deserve a wider audience.
It helps immensely that Daniel’s is able to come up with some awesome singles to throw into a mix of Spoon standards that are heavy on Rubber Soul-era Beatles and the fitted-shirt-n-skinny-tie new wave tightness.
Those “awesome” songs (“You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb,” “Black Like Me,” “Finer Feelings,” “The Underdog”) are so blatantly infectious and smart that it would be foolish to dismiss G5 entirely. That means the remaining six albums are derivative of their own catalog or just barely noticeable for me to even care.
“The Ghost Of You Lingers” goes on for at least 90 seconds too long with the whole staccato piano minimalism and “My Little Japanese Cigarette Case” actually pushes Spoon into a new category: pretentiousness. The album starts out promising with “Don’t Make Me A Target” before you realize that all of the song’s initial eeriness is complete destroyed with Daniel’s bored-sounding refrain of the title, over and over and over.
“You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb” reminds me of that old Jo Boxers’ song “Just Got Lucky” and “The Underdog” is wonderful with its sassy horns and acoustic guitar. I don’t mind these moments of clear, intentional commercial pop because 1.) It sounds like Spoon and 2.) Sounding like Spoon is still a pretty unique thing. With a few more of these replacing the album’s weaker moments, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga not only would be Spoon’s breakthrough album, it would sound like it too.

I Buried Paul = Cranberry Sauce

Not only was Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band released forty years ago, but so did the rumors that Paul McCartney had died as well. It seems that in addition to "changing the world," the youth of the world also had plenty of time to sit around, smoke pot, and stare at the cover of Sgt. Pepper to the point where they started to believe their own stoned babble.
There's a part of me that would like to think that the rest of The Beatles caught wind of the circulating rumor and contributed to it. John, most notably in "Glass Onion" from The White Album, speaks to it with the "Here's another clue for you all: The Walrus was Paul" line. Common sense would think that at least some of the general public would consider that the band, particularly Lennon, were having a laugh at the entire topic.
Finally, on October 22, 1969, McCartney found himself properly addressing the topic during an interview, unexpectedly denying rumors of his death.
Conspiracy theorists may wish to consider the idea that this fake McCartney was already entrenched in discontent with the rest of The Beatles and that a break-up at that time was evident. So, in order to ensure future success as the fake McCartney solo artist, he proactively addressed the "rumor." The fake McCartney theory is completely plausible when one considers shit like Back To The Egg.
Strangely, my Father introduced the idea of the "Paul Is Dead" conspiracy when I was a young child. I was good enough to enlighten our elementary music teacher, herself a young, petite fresh-out-of-college-so-this-is-my-first-teaching-gig kind of woman who seemed genuinely too prissy to be part of the dope-smoking Beatles crowd.
There were two glaring examples of how she might have run with those crowds.
The first was that she had the business card of Ambulance in her Rolodex. Ambulance was a fairly visual hard rock band that toured the tri-state area in the mid-70's, playing the obligatory hard rock covers in between their own material. The business card label Ambulance as "Emergency Rock & Roll." Sidenote: the guitarist, who was aping a Rick Nielsen image, referred to himself as "Johnny Siren." I saw him walking down the street, years after I saw Ambulance play at the annual street fair, and screamed "Hey! It's Johnny! Johnny Siren!" at him, causing Johnny to quicken his pace. Ah, the perils of local stardom...
Anyway, the music teacher had Ambulance's business card in her Rolodex at school.
She also had a list on a legal pad. I went up and looked at it once when she was distracted.
"People surrounding freshly dug grave"
"Marijuana plants by grave"
"flower arrangement of left-handed bass guitar by grave"
"Hand above Paul's head"
I knew she was writing a list of clues that pointed to the death of Paul McCartney, although I will admit the pot plant clue was completely new to me at the time. I suppose that it's good that a sixth grader doesn't know what a pot plant looks like.
She caught me looking at the list and I asked the obligatory questions like "Is this about The Beatles?" and "Are these clues to Paul's death?" My knowledge on the subject startled her, but it must have placed me in a different category in her social skills. A few year later, she took my opinions about The Cars' debut album to heart and bought it.
"If you play "Revolution 9" backwards, it says "turn me on dead man" I offered.
The next day, she brought in her copy of The White Album and we played it backwards on the music room's industrial strength record player. If you put the speed selector in between the numbers, the turntable would stop and allow for you to hear what's being played on the speak. The action created a prevalent hum while doing it, but it wasn't bad enough for us not to hear "Turn me on, dead man!" in every backwards spin of the guy saying "Number Nine" over and over. You've got to spin it just right and totally believe in such bullshit, but it's there.
She added "Turn me on dead man sounds when "Revolution 9" is played backwards" on to her legal pad, making my suggestion an official part of her investigation.
I couldn't have been more proud of myself.

Happy Birthday, Julian Cope

Holy shit, Julian Cope turned 50 years old. Clearly, that is a sign that a higher being (pun intended) is responsible for making sure Cope came equipped with a guardian angel. You see, Julian Cope should have died about 25 years ago; a notorious supporter of the hallucinatory arts, Julian Cope seemed hellbent on rivaling the excesses of his heroes. The problem was that his main heroes happened to be acid casualty victims like Syd Barrett, Roky Erickson, and Skip Spence. And for all intents and purposes, Cope was himself close to the edge of madness too, something that’s well documented in his autobiographies Head On and Repossessed. Both are very good reads and entertaining even if you’re not familiar with the man’s work.
Here’s a clip of Cope getting into it with a drunk female heckler at a recent show.

Lynyrd Skynyrd Plane Crash

Thirty years ago this week, Ronnie Van Zant, Steve Gaines, Cassie Gaines, and Dean Kilpatrick died when their band's plane crashed in McComb, Mississippi.
Do you remember the first time you heard "Free Bird?" I do, and it was the version from One More From The Road album.
But what I remember more vividly is hearing the studio version played at one of the very first high school dances. I had no date...what self-respecting Freshman would...but I got the opportunity to watch the older dudes with their dates, dancing to the latest radio favorites and the well established classics.
The dj started playing "Free Bird" and the guys starting slow dancing with the girls upon the initial slow part. Then, when the guitars all start to come in after the "And this bird you'll never change" part, the couples looked retardedly silly trying to keep up with the increasing tempo while still slow dancing. The quarterback of the football team, in an act of supreme coolness, continued dancing really slow with his date, making out with her on the dance floor while the guitar solos turned everyone else into awkward dorks.
Of course now, I'm sick of "Free Bird" and will actually turn the dial when it comes on. It's popularity is justified, but the burn for me has turned it into an irritant, a source of groans and dumb guy mimics.
I also remember how they changed the cover art for their (then) latest album Street Survivors from the fiery imagery that graced the album before the plane crash. Apparently, MCA records thought that the flames were in bad taste considering the band's fiery demise and they airbrushed them out of future pressings.
The only thing about that cover to me was how Artimus Pyle showed up at the photo shoot wearing cut-offs. I don't care if you're the king of Southern rock, put some pants on, dude...

True Tales Of Nursery Rhymes

I’m not very good at nursery rhymes. My wife is: in a heartbeat she’s croonin’ “You Are My Sunshine” perfectly in key while I get the lyrics fucked up with “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider.”
So I pretty much just make up my own repertoire (you might know me as the songwriter to “Shakin’ My Buttercups” and “Sittin’ On My Daddy-Do”) or bring up the most out-of-left-field songs to try and put my little girl to sleep.
Lately, a song that’s been getting a lot of use thanks to Calli’s sickness is an old Bee Gees song called “I Started A Joke.” So yeah, imagine a four month old crying while I’m cooing
“I started a joke
That started the whole world crying
But I didn’t see
That the joke was on me”
Now imagine that aforementioned four month old getting retardedly sleepy by the time I hit the chorus.
No shit.
I don’t know what it is about my rendition of “I Started A Joke” that gets her calm, but I swear by it. And yes, I’ve tried other songs but none of them had the same results.
I decided to test something. I found out that if I try and replicate the Gibb falsetto in the song, I actually make her cry a little louder.
She only digs my version when I sing it in my natural baritone.
Check out this incredibly frightening footage of the nursery rhyme in question.

OCD Chronicles: Bruce Springsteen "Human Touch"

I was checking out some raunchy old-man-on-teen-girl porn when the laptop tried out a nifty virus that’s pretty elusive and protective. Protective in the sense that it wouldn’t let me figure out who he was so that I could kill him. Now, the laptop is getting gutted for a hefty price and hopefully all of the shit (rightings, reviews, and jpegs of hot gramps-on-girl action) can be saved.
Particularly since a lot of this site’s content is sitting on its exposed harddrive.
In the meantime, it’s important to document another O.C.D. track that’s been at the ready during commutes and on the dome while at work dealing with rich cocksuckers.
Side note: I’m fairly confident that I don’t like 87.65% of the residents in New Jersey.
Which is strange because my current song is one from a resident of New Jersey. What’s even stranger is that the selection is the title track of a fairly unforgettable 1992 album called Human Touch.
It’s weak. It’s pedestrian. And, in some ways, it’s perfect: An average Springsteen song that’s sounds like a lift of another average Springsteen song which means that it’s better than most of the songs on the radio anyway. Is it Bruuuce going through the motions? Perhaps, but it’s still Bruuuce.
And that’s the key with Human Touch and the mildly better companion Lucky Town: they’re the sound of one of rock’s most notoriously hard-working rockers settling down in his middle age. Fuck, it even admits as much at the end of the first verse:
“In the end what you don’t surrender
Well, the world just strips away”
As mild-mannered as it is, “Human Touch” has a few great things going for it. The first, as the last quote demonstrates is that it’s, big fucking surprise here, wonderfully well written. The title track, more than any other song on Human Touch, tries to set clear expectations with long standing fans who found The Boss’ early 90’s choices a little off-settling (no E Street Band were seemingly replaced by a bunch of session players). “Ain’t nobody drawing wine from this blood” he admits in one line of the song, while finding some strangely inspired vocal takes with his wife during that part in the bridge where they go “Oh girl, that feeling of safety you prize/Well, it comes at a hard, hard price.”
It gives me goosebumps, just as the line “I know I ain’t nobody’s bargain/But hell, a little touch up and a little paint…” puts a big-ass grin on my face every fucking time.
I saw Bruce during this tour. It was my second meeting with The Boss and even in the company of his younger, nameless backing band, he still managed to rock the joint. Even the pap material of the Human/Lucky pair sounded great, and Bruce looked fairly inspired throughout the set
You may have been able to compile the best points of Springsteen’s twin ’92 offerings into something on the same level as Tunnel Of Love but whatever. For me, right at this moment, the best Bruce song ever recorded was nothing but a replica of a previously recorded track that didn’t even catch my ear the first time it came around

Planet P Project - Pink World

Here’s a prime example of what happens when record store employees who have no business recommending music, actually do so and when stupid record store customers should ignore those aforementioned recommendations, but don’t.
A classmate, not more than a few years older than yours truly, began to strongly encourage me to consider buying the new Planet P Project album.
“You like Floyd, don’tcha?” He asked
“Yeah…”
“Well,” he continued, “this is like The Wall of 1985.”
Now, understand that The Wall to a high school junior is the equivalent to The Bible. So in continuing on with that analogy, and to give you an idea of how Pink Word rates against something like The Wall: The Wall is to The Bible as Pink World is to the Book of Mormon.
Pretentious and overblown, it is the work of former Rainbow keyboardist Tony Carey, who scored a minor hit a few years prior using the Planet P Project moniker while working with a renowned German producer Peter Hauke.
Nothing these two conjure up come anywhere close to Pink Floyd. Hell, nothing they muster comes anywhere near fucking Rainbow, unless you want to bring up shit like Difficult To Cure, of course.
Bad example…
With no frame of reference, and with the idea of forking over money for a fucking double album, I protested to the clerk that I probably would pass on the purchase. Nearing defeat, he pulled out the last enticement: It came pressed on pink vinyl.
Indeed, the song samples did seem a little better on those colored groove and at the very least, I rationalized, the limited edition nature of the release would only increase in value if I later tried to sell it.
Ripping open the gatefold sleeve at home, I learned that my copy did not have the pink vinyl that I saw at the store. I also learned that the songs I heard on side one caused the album to quickly spiral into a shitstorm of side two, three and four.
There’s an unbelievably weak plot of a boy named Artimus who lives in some bizzaro world of suppression, strife, and nuclear annihilation. Musically, Pink World features layers of synthesizers, retarded studio effects and horrifically dated production values. It’s supposedly garnished a few fans over the years, and it sickens me somewhat consider the notion that it may become a revered cult item.
Knowing that I was stuck with a shitty synth/prog rock double lp, I took a razor blade and cut a clean slice in the grooves of track one and created a skip so prevalent that their fancy-pants Technics player wouldn’t be able to track over it.
It worked: I was refunded my money and it was immediately spent on something worthier.
Tony Carey later found success as a solo artist (“A Fine Fine Day”) before semi-retiring in Germany. The last I heard about him was that he did not own a computer and the only way to get in touch with him was through a fax machine.
Now there’s a subject for a concept album.

Tony Carey was born on this day in 1953.

Richard Buckner - Meadow

It goes without saying that the road of record companies is littered with talented artists unceremoniously dropped due to shifting priorities, exiting staff, and the most common career-killer: poor record sales.
Richard Buckner knows about this, having been dropped from MCA Records immediately after he delivered, Since, his second album for them in what should have been a three album deal.
Thankfully, Buckner’s persevered and with the support of a few believing independent labels who’ve given him the freedom to grow and develop as a performer.
Meadow, Buckner’s eighth album overall, continues to demonstrate his progression from an alt-country folkie towards a more well-rounded artist with a firm eye on the road that brought him here.
Restraint is the common denominator in many of the arrangements, with gentle strummed acoustic guitars, light electric flourishes and the occasional piano backdrops lifting Buckner’s voice throughout the album. The performances leave plenty of room for his weary baritone to bring the listener in; he manages to rebound from sounding drained to becoming elevated in the span of one verse. Again, the musicians (including Guided By Voices’ alumni Doug Gillard and Kevin March) provide Buckner’s voice with room to breathe while he examines the shadows and light of his words.
Which are stunning, by the way. Because of his subtle delivery, Buckner might have become one of America’s most treasured lyricists right under our noses. While he may seem to be fixated on curious wordplay at times, he always seems to pull them together at just the right moments. It may be easy to get tangled up in Buckner’s web of words (“not to say just another calling back”), but after a verse or two, you’ll find release (“nothing sees us as we drive out where we shouldn’t have”) and a deeper meaning.
Meadow subtly jumps around from traditional 4/4 rock structures to jangle-pop explorations while managing to maintain a clear view of what the song’s original blueprint was: a perfectly structured three minute gem, meticulously cut from a well-worn acoustic guitar. He finally succumbs to it on the last track “The Tether And The Tie,” with some soothing finger-picking on the same instrument that brought him his initial attention.
“It’s almost true,” Buckner sings on “Window,” “You don’t expect to fall/Watchin’ what you do.” He should know a thing or two about slipping, but as Meadow demonstrates, he’s landed on both feet and he continues to move ahead.
Even if you’re not familiar with the roads he’s already traveled, it’s a joy trying to catch up with him now.



Richard Buckner performs at The Picador on Thursday, November 9th


This review originally appeared in Glorious Noise

Prince Opens For The Stones

I'm sure that everyone who attended The Rolling Stones performance at the L.A. Coliseum on October 11, 1981 now claims that the greeted the band's opener with open arms as he tried to give the crowd a little taste of the same movs that would later place him in rock's upper echelons in just a matter of a few years.
But the truth was anything but: the face is that most of the crowd were fairly brutal to Prince, supporting his latest album, Controversy.
Fans of the Rolling Stones can be a fairly picky bunch, but it is somewhat understandable that a few in attendance didn't "get"what he was all about. From what I remember of his wardrobe from that era (bikini underwear, trenchcoat, etc.), that feeling of uncomfortableness was probably well intentioned and, as evidenced by the negative reaction, part of the marketing.
The Stones are fairly renowned for being generous with up-and-comers for their opening slots but, when you think about it, does anyone really want to be up there, opening for the greatest rock and roll band in the world?
Apparently, Prince did and he's probably the only one out of all of the band's support act that may have had the talent to actually give the veterans a run for their money.

Happy Birthday, John Lennon

Out of any rock star’s birthday, I can only claim to remember one without looking or reminders. John Lennon’s birthday is days away from my own, so that made it easier to remember.
Growing up, you’re taught certain things, or perhaps a better way to word it is that things are “handed down” to you. And by that I don’t mean something in the materialistic sense. Instead, I’m talking about truths, beliefs and morals.
One of the things handed down to me was the idea that John Lennon was the coolest Beatle.
Understand, this was even before an assassin made him into a martyr. This was ingrained prior to that tragedy, and not even the lackluster efforts like Walls & Bridges could change it. Because my Father verbally expressed a favoritism towards Lennon (and explained how my Mother was more of a McCartney fan), I felt the need to pay closer attention to his work, particularly with his Beatle material. Oh sure, there was the obligatory appeal of “funny” Ringo for a while during my youth, but even an eight year old knows Ringo Starr covering “You’re Sixteen” is not a good idea and it even manages to tarnish the image of “funny drummers.”
Besides, I occasionally glanced at the Sunday paper (a Sunday morning family ritual) while growing up and I specifically remember reading blurbs about Lennon’s exploits during his infamous “lost weekend” period.
Even an eight year old knows that rock stars are supposed to be drunk and belligerent.
But more than anything, it was Lennon’s songs that provided me with enough interest to look at his vital statistics. And they were good enough to have me remember that date, even when I can’t remember the birthdays of close relatives.
Top Ten Favorite Lennon Songs:
1.) “Mother” from Plastic Ono Band
2.) “Norwegian Wood” from Rubber Soul
3.) “Julia” from The Beatles
4.) “Imagine” from Imagine
5.) “Working Class Hero” from Plastic Ono Band
6.) “Revolution” from Past Masters: Volume Two
7.) “Tomorrow Never Knows” from Revolver
8.) “Come Together” from Abbey Road
9.) “I Am The Walrus” from Magical Mystery Tour
10.) “Strawberry Fields Forever” from Magical Mystery Tour

Happy Birthday, Todd Totale!

How utterly sad and pathetic is it that I'm acknowledging my own birthday on this blog? Fairly, but I come bearing a true Totale tale that happened this morning. As I'm navigating through the satellite, the channel stops on VH1 Classic's "Metal Mania," specifically, Y&T's horrific "Summertime Girls." Immediately following it, Autograph appears with their only hit "Turn Up The Radio" from Sign In Please.
I do my obligatory play-by-play to the four year old, explaining that Autograph is what we call a "one hit wonder" and how they were ruled by a robot.
As the video progressed, E lay down in front of the television and offered his opinion of them:
"They suck."
Judge for yourself, but I gotta agree with the kid.

Holy Diarrhea! Dio Rips On Vivian Campbell

And here I thought that Ronnie James Dio was this tiny, nice dude who always seemed to speak with an important delivery like he was way aware of metal’s perceived retardedness.
So how refreshing is it to see him acting totally metal, dropping f-bombs and publicly ripping ex-Dio band member Vivian Campbell. In case you’re wondering, Vivian Campbell was also the dude that replaced the dead dude in Def Leppard and who shouldn’t be confused with the blonde dude that replaced some other dude who got kicked out after High ‘N Dry.
To clarify again: Vivian Campbell is the brown, curly haired guitarist that currently makes the fair circuit with the rest of the 80’s revival circuit.
I guess there was some bad blood when Campbell lodged the following on October 29, 2003: “Even now I still get these guys coming up to me going 'Duuuuuuuude!', giving me the DIO devil sign and yelling 'Holy Diver!!' and 'Rainbow In The Dark, whoo hoo!!' and it's cool that they remember it, but that music never mattered to me — and still doesn't." Campbell went on to state that Dio was “awful businessman” and called him “one of the vilest people in the industry."
Fast forward to March 30, 2007: after the Heaven and Hell show at Radio City Music Hall, Dio spent time signing autographs with fans outside while someone videoed the moment. In the video, a fan mentions to Dio, "I saw Vivian Campbell about a year ago…" only to have Ronnie cut him off with: "Oh, you poor son of a bitch!” He then throws out some harsh ill-will and gives a few choice words regarding Def Leppard (”There’s a fucking rock band for you to fucking have diarrhea with!”).
It’s wonderful, and I appreciate Dio more after watching it.

Freak Out! The 2008 Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame Nominees Are...

Visiting the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame was an awesome experience, and it's important to consider the Hall based entirely on the exhibits you'll see.
After all, you probably wouldn't even consider visiting the Hall if all you had to motivate you was the incredibly thinning nominees and the glaringly absent artists who's cultural significance far outweigh their sales significance.
It’s gotten to the point where the nominees are turning into head-scratching moments and artists that you’d never associate with “Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Nominee.”
And the contenders for induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, class of 2008 are:

• Afrika Bambaataa
• Beastie Boys
• Chic
• Leonard Cohen
• The Dave Clark Five
• Madonna
• John Mellencamp
• Donna Summer
• The Ventures

Now, believe it or not, I don’t have a problem with Madonna on that list. I understand how polarizing she can be among rock aficionados and I get that “Madonna” and “rock,” when using the most stringent of terminologies, probably wouldn’t qualify as a well thought out choice.
But fuck it; as provocative as Madonna was, she deserves inclusion based on the sole fact that there wasn’t a more feared entertainer than her since Elvis
No, for me the curious thing is: What the fuck are Chic doing on there? Donna Summer?
And yes, what about the Dave Clark Five?
To be honest, I don’t even think Beastie Boys deserve to be there yet. At the very least, they should be placed on hold until Paul’s Boutique turns twenty five.
John Mellencamp? Ditto. You’ve got to hold the dude to at least a quarter century off of Scarecrow; everyone knows that the shit before that was pretty weak.
Afrika Bambaataa and Leonard Cohen are both token entries, meant to appease those who want to lend a little bit of critically acclaimed with their dirtyass rock and roll. I’ve never heard an album by either artist truly rock, but if you’ve gotta throw in Madonna, I suppose you got to throw in a few extra for the college station Music Director too.
The Ventures? What the hell. Leave them on. Hell, they had Mosrite guitars named after them, so sure, let these instrumental kings walk, don’t run to the podium.
But for me, the class of 2008 would have looked like this:

• Alice Cooper (band)
• The Stooges
• New York Dolls
• Rush
• Captain Beefheart

Note To Eddie: Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge

Jesus Christ, this is horrific. While I was getting all smartassy about the Van Halen tour rehearsals, out pops a You Tube of the real live Van Halen concert and it’s even worse. I mean trainwreck bad.
Not only did those in attendance spend an ungodly sum to see a ¾ reunion show of Van Halen, they also paid for the privilege to hear Eddie Van Halen’s guitar completely out of tune.
But here’s the thing, nobody goes over to him to let him know about it! So he continues on, gutting the entire song (and encore, as this was the final song of the set) with this inexcusable performance.
It’s pretty clear that this is Eddie’s trip and that he’s successfully neutered Roth and created a bubble around him where no one had the balls to say: “Dude, get a fucking different guitar, you’re ruining the song with this one.”
And what’s with not noticing himself? Seriously, either his guitar is completely mixed out of his stage monitor or he’s too drunk to give a shit, but there is no reason why he shouldn’t be able to notice “Holy fuck! I’m way out of tune.”
Don’t tell me for a moment that the dude doesn’t have enough guitar juice to have a half dozen techs sucking him off backstage and making sure his free arsenal of guitars is ready for the next song on the setlist.
This tour may turn into a bigger fiasco that the last “reunion” tour with Sammy Hagar and Michael “Scale Wage” Anthony.
There were moments when I kept thinking: “This has got to be one of those videos that they’ve dubbed the guitar track in a different key.”
But after reading how on the show prior to this video of the Greensboro, North Carolina guitar disruption, Eddie missed a cue and came onstage with his pants unbuttons and falling down.
Further evidence that the tech is indeed sucking him off instead of making sure that the guitar he'll be using on stage is in fucking tune.

Van Halen Rehersal Videos

I’m now officially out of my “I could tolerate seeing Van Halen with David Lee Roth phase and it only took one glimpse of the rehearsal videos.
I understand it’s only a rehearsal. I know that the fellas are a helluva lot older. And I get the fact that most in attendance here are industry stiffs that include former members of Toto (no shit). But after Roth’s barking during the tour press conference, I was expecting just a tad more bite when it came time for the music.
Instead, you’ve got Diamond Dave, grinning like he’s on some kind of anti-depressant, Wolfgang Van Halen looking like someone let a sixteen year old kid on stage with some geriatric version of V.H., Alex laying out a the obligatory “I’m playing real fast and then I’ll play really slow” drum solo, and then there’s Eddie. Dressed in white Capri pants that look just as stupid now as they did during the Diver Down tour, Ed provided enough sound effects to retain his stature while staying the fuck away from Diamond Dave.
Seriously. You can almost cut the tension with a knife in these videos; could they seem any more uncomfortable together?