Recently a request crossed my desk to cover an old band with a new album. I’ve been busy with work on the Ghostwood Estates project, so when I received this request to cover Van Halen’s new album, A Different Kind of Truth, and I thought, “really?” I initially demurred but then acquiesced due to previous agreements. So I looked myself in the mirror and liked what I saw. You must understand, I’m not the same person who listened to the Diamond Dave Brigade all those years ago, and Van Halen isn’t the band it once was. That said, I agreed to listen and report and here it is.
This isn’t by any means a full review or repudiation of the album. Rather it’s a retrospective view on what was simply a band you couldn’t ignore back in the day — one that ends with their new album.
From a historical context, there’s little argument that Van Halen exploded onto an American music scene that was very much in need of something bold and jarring. Van Halen was loud, brash, willfully ignorant of authority and fully aware of the commotion they were creating. This wasn’t the California sound of the Beach Boys, Eagles or Doobie Brothers era, but a rougher, darker coast full of anti-authority punk kids hopped up on Cokes, beef jerky, and reefer, riding skateboards and pulling 360 and 720 aerials out of the neighbor’s pool bowl. And the time was right for a band as irreverent and daring as the kids who would listen to it.
That was 1977 and Van Halen was a band led by a wunderkind guitar virtuoso and fronted by one of the generation’s notable mouthy flunkies. Eddie Van Halen and David Lee Roth were the co-hosts to an all-new era of rock. And I was along for every last mile of that joy ride, from the first album all the way to 1984. At the height of their insanity, the band was gliding wildly on an oil slick with blowtorches at the ready. By the time they released their fourth album, Fair Warning, the band was wholly unchained.
But like many bands with massive personalities, egos and inner demons to match, the seeds of self-destruction ran deep. David Lee Roth was ousted over “creative differences,” and the Red Rocker was in. Like many fans, I jumped the train at the moment of Roth’s departure. Without him, there was no Van Halen. And where initially I’d been drawn in by a rock god’s incendiary guitar, I had really stayed for the gripes of Roth. Noticeably on the less-than-thrilling release of 1984, as Eddie’s substance consumption increased, his dynamic energy and lyricism on the ax declined. The songwriting that had once thrilled the teenager in me had reached an overdose of self-indulgence that even I could not endure.
The songs were softer, more feminine, and decidedly not for me. The Red Rocker took the band in directions that I’m not sure it was every intended to go. With Sammy Hagar, Van Halen had become more a Cabo Wabo house party band than the earth shaking band that had “re-awakened rock music from its complacency and saved us all from disco.”
But even in this iteration, Eddie found himself again battling over creative control, the spotlight, and his inner demons. I’m not judging him because, god knows, I’ve had my demons, too. But he also found himself battling a cancer that he would eventually overcome, but it was his battle for creative control that once again left the band without a full-time lead singer. It would be difficult to fault Hagar, a rocker renowned for his decent treatment of band mates and all of his extended family. Sammy ultimately found himself doing what he had always done best, and that was an end to another VH chapter.
Now, Eddie is back from the brink again and Roth is back in the fold. Like so many old bands back on tour, fans fear for the worst. I’ve had the misfortune of seeing a few of them, wrinkled, out of shape, and definitely not ready to take the stage again. B-52s, I’m talking to you. Between the guest musicians, stars who take breaks between songs, teleprompters and gigs that end before 10pm, nothing damages rock and roll memories more.
That said, here I am, watching new Van Halen videos from A Different Kind of Truth. “She’s The Woman” hums with that old VH confidence and swagger, likely because this tune is from Eddie’s back catalog of tunes that never made the early releases. It feels like it could have rolled right off of Diver Down, and fortunately for us, Eddie’s work is truly blistering again. Dare I say it’s even fun? Diamond Dave might not have the same vocal register or gymnastic moves, but he’s lost none of his showmanship and gift of gab. Eddie’s work on “Honeybabysweetiedoll” shows more than a glimpse of what once was the hottest sound around, but overall the band needs more practice and more time composing as a group.
Do they look older? You bet, and shouldn’t they? When your son is now your bass player, looking old comes with the territory. The best thing this foursome can do now is to tour again at length, get to know each other all over, and then take a break and really get together on the next batch of songs. I do believe this band will shake again and I plan on crashing a gig if only to see Diamond Dave’s bad hair plugs and midair kicks. My friend, Bob, would love this new album. Then again, maybe I’ll close my eyes, snap my fingers, and just listen. “Yeah, I like the way the line goes down the back of the stocking…”
– Leland Palmer
