Last Night Everybody Wants Some—Van Halen @ Key Arena
posted by on December 4 at 15:11 PM
“I’m from the suburbs. You know the suburbs? That’s where they pull up the trees and name the streets after them.”
—David Lee Roth
I envy Northwest natives. Even if you grew up outside of Seattle or Portland, if you grew up in Bellinghan or Olympia or Eugene, you had good music. Tons of it: K Records, Sub Pop, Phil Elvrum, Built to Spill, riot grrrls. You physically grew up alongside it—you saw those young bands in 100-seat clubs and you’re still seeing those not-so-young-anymore bands in 100-seat clubs. Maybe they were even your friends. It’s an intimate, personal connection that you’re fortunate to have had and even more fortunate to maintain.
I’m from West Palm Beach, Florida. Musically, we had almost nothing to grow up alongside of. What we did have didn’t survive graduation. Even if I was somehow hipped to K Records and Sub Pop early on, the bands they featured weren’t my bands—they were someone else’s, someone three thousand miles away. I didn’t have K Records or Phil Elvrum. I had Led Zeppelin and the Doors, Billy Joel and the Beastie Boys. I had Van Halen. The connection wasn’t intimate or personal; it was pop. It was loud and buzzed on cheap beer and bad weed and riding around in a Chevy Beretta listening to 1984.
So there was a fair amount of nostalgia going on in last night’s concert. It came to a palpable, weirdly cosmic point suddenly, maybe an hour into the show: I was 16 again, back in West Palm Beach and feeling my brother and my dad and my friends, back in a moment that was actually a only a memory of accumulated moments from way back when. It was as vivid as an illusion can be. Then I thought myself out of it and it was gone. That was some super-powerful stuff—the music removed me from the moment, which, in any performance, is double-edged: Yeah, you’re transported, but yeah, you’re not all there.
There was more to last night than nostalgia, though. Van Halen have always been arena-sized showmen (Was there ever a time when they were a bar band? Look at the cover of their first album—they’re on a stage as big as a basketball court.), especially Diamond Dave, who must’ve clothespinned his ears behind his head to create the Tammy Faye-esque grin he wore for two solid hours. The last arena show I saw was Duran Duran—too metrosexual to really run with the necessary testosteroics the oversized venue demanded. Van Halen had it down, starting with a logoed dirigible that floated over the crowd before the show. Literally an inflated sense of self, exactly what’s required for the masses.
When the lights went down and “You Really Got Me” kicked up, those masses erupted. I erupted, too. How could you not? Looking around at the dads and sons, the Microsofties pounding airplane bottles of Stoli, the teenage and college-age kids at their first mega-concert, I couldn’t deny the energy. I headbanged more last night than perhaps ever, though VH isn’t really metal. It’s pure, perfect arena rock—there could be no better setting for the music and there could be no better music for the setting. Big, dumb, and self-aware—America, baby, but with a jester in command rather than a cowboy, which makes all the difference.
For someone who goes to three or four concerts a year, it was all you could ask for—they played everything (not really), there was a huge drum solo (badass) and a huge guitar solo (took too long to get to the good part), there were lasers and confetti and a giant inflatable microphone (brilliant). For someone who goes to three or four concerts a week, there were some week spots. Though the band looked great and had the energy level redlined the entire show, it took a minute or two for Dave and Eddie to fall in synch. Wolfgang, Eddie’s trench coat Mafioso, bass-playing son, was no Michael Anthony—kid’s not old enough to drink, let alone hold a Jack Daniel’s-shaped bass (though Anthony’s original bass lines approximated a 16-year-old’s skill level).
Minor quibbles, really, made more apparent by a mid-show lag that let my mind wander, and not in a good way. I thought about deadlines, bullshit. But then “Dance the Night Away” and “Pretty Woman” and “Hot For Teacher” and “Unchained” and “Panama”—!!! Those songs are radtastically awesome, suburbanly anthemic. David Lee Roth, spin-kicking the air and nun-chucking the mic stand. Eddie Van Halen, synchronized split-jumping off the drum riser with Wolfgang. Alex Van Halen, looking the worst for the wear, twiddling his drum stick before slamming into gear. High fives in the crowd, fist-pumping and horn-throwing. My music, my history, my people.
Funny, then, that the best moment of the night was the only intimate one. DLR brought an acoustic guitar to the front of the stage and gave a monologue—five minutes of the most brilliantly detailed reminiscence, from which the quote at the top of this review is taken. Others: “Everybody knew a Kenny that lived above the garage or behind the garage…” “Kenny rolling joints on a Pink Floyd album cover…” “Pot had seeds back then…” Watching the seeds slide down the album cover like in slow motion…” “Sitting in a circle, passing joints in both directions…” “I remember like it was yesterday. Thursday night, 1972…” Then the band played “Ice Cream Man,” my favorite Van Halen song.
We’re all grasping at a cultural narrative, I guess. Some of us find it close to home. Others find it in a basketball arena in Seattle, surrounded by a couple friends and 16,000 strangers.
Very nice review, JZ, I wish I could have been there. I used to listen to my brother's 1984 tape all them time when I was a little kid, and I take no shame in that. Van Halen had some serious jams.
Nice review.
There it is. Finally, sense prevails.
Thanks JZ.
nicely said, JZ.
sincerity wins. props.
Zwickel: 1
Grandy: 0, always 0
Not counting instrumentals, here's how the set list breaks down...
Van Halen (1st album) - Six original songs, one Kinks cover and one John Brim cover (No, "Ice Cream Man" was not written by David Lee Roth on Thursday night, 1972. Essentially, they played the entire first album except for "On Fire" and "Feel Your Love Tonight". That's pretty damned sweet.)
Van Halen II - Three songs
Women And Children First - Three songs
Fair Warning - Three songs
Diver Down - One original song, one Roy Orbison cover
1984 - Four songs
Nice review. As always, Grandy can suck it.
The first joint I ever smoked was during the Fair Warning tour at the Coliseum in the early 80's. The place was absolutely filled with smoke. Was it as hazy last night?
my moms first big concert was van halen at the tacoma dome in ... well, a very long time ago. she met them and they were assholes to her, and she told them so. to their face.
my first concert was probably bratmobile or tchkung! or some random calvin johnson performance at the capitol theater backstage. they get shoved down your throat at a young age in olywood, so they sort of blend together.
OK, that whole "Fuck Van Halen" post made me mad. I feel better now. Thank you.
Actually, Jonathan, in the name of fairness I have to admit that I found your blog to be overly apologetic in its (faintly) positive tone and more than a little condescending towards Van Halen fans - a group that actually includes those of us who "physically grew up" alongside Sub Pop and K Records and have a wide range of musical preferences.
Secondarily, I felt your piece was poorly researched, even for a quickie blog (for example, it's pretty easy to find out what the cover of Van Halen's first album looks like. What big stage are you referring to? There are four individual photos of the band members combined on the cover, obviously each shot in a studio.)
I need to stop typing "nice" when I actually mean "disappointing, predictable and tiresome". Grandy can still suck it, but at least he's honest in expressing his true opinion, unlike you or I. Please pass the Olive Garden bread sticks.
"Jump" was my first favourite song in the world. I wish I could have been at this concert.
my first concert was the VH 1984 tour. i was in fourth grade and got straight A's on my report card, so my dad took me to see it. the arena was so dense with smoke, you couldn't see the other side. my dad pointed out some people in front of us who were smoking a joint and said "you see that? that's dope". they laughed at us. i received a contact high. DLR did lots of splits and jumping high kicks and i got a t-shirt.
i dunno, matt--i look at that album and i see the four of them on stage, albeit in separate snapshots. theres a sense of scale to it that goes beyond what you see in each shot. they might be in a studio, but theyre clearly going for grandeur. maybe thats just me though.
im not trying to apologize to anyone; im just telling you what i saw and what i felt at the time. interesting that you felt i was being condescending--i never said that one couldnt have had both experiences (indie vs. pop) side by side, but that wasnt what i got. if you did listen to k AND van halen, what i wrote about physical proximity to the artists still applies.
I'm so glad they played Unchained. Loved the review. You'll get some leg, I mean, kind words from me tonight for sure.
I wasn't at this show, and between VHII and 1984, I didn't have much interest in VH (bummed I missed them at Cleveland Music Hall show in 1979, though--that would have been like seeing them at the Moore). Anyway, that being said, this review is some of the best writing you've ever done for the Stranger.
I'll change MY tone to apologetic, then. The sense of scale in the first album's cover photos is certainly larger than life, which is the level of entertainment VH have always worked hard to provide - even as a bar band.
The condescension I detected as I re-read your piece has a lot to do with the first few paragraphs, which I took to imply that "good music" (Northwest "indie") is better than the supposed crap (i.e. Zep, Doors, Beasties) you had to settle for in the cultural wasteland of West Palm Beach. I just have trouble seeing Built To Spill or Band Of Horses or Beat Happening as bands of colossal and superior cultural significance. I grew up with Led Zeppelin, too, and it wasn't a band I felt that I needed to outgrow. I just augmented that preference with other music as I got older.
I think someone can develop "an intimate, personal connection" to whatever music happens to turn them on. Sure, songs like "Dance The Night Away" and "Beautiful Girls" are light, fun and pleasantly bereft of some dark deeper meaning, but that's not the entire Van Halen catalog. Unfortunately, one man's "Fuck, yeah! I can't believe they're playing "Mean Street!" is another man's mid-show lag.
Anyway, I'm over it. I'm glad you had fun at the show, Mr. Zwickel. I did too. Peace.
Yeah. I definitely didn't feel any condescension from this piece, at least not towards VH fans. If anything, it was the other way around.
Music and self-definition are very intertwined, especially during the teenage years. There's a lot at stake there. But the experiences can be really different depending on where you are.
In the pre-internet era, if you didn't grow up in a coastal hipster mecca (or maybe a good sized college town), there was kind of a limit on how much indy stuff you were going to be exposed to (unless you were super motivated). And even if you were super motivated, probably nobody else around you was.
For example, when "Give'm Enough Rope" by the Clash was released, I think there is a good chance that I was the only person in my suburban Cleveland high school of 1500 kids who bought it. And that was a major label release. Indy rock pretty much didn't penetrate into my world at all until I got to college. Rolling Stone was pretty much the only option, in terms of getting any sort of window into new music. And they weren't covering much Indy stuff then (even less than they do now).
So even if you knew that there was food out there beyond the Olive Garden, you still ended up eating a lot of Olive Garden anyway. And in the process, you came to appreciate the virtues of Olive Garden.
You also built sense memory associations with it. Memories that stay with you, even if your life subsequently allowed you to experience a lot of other food. Just check out that Cobain documentary. That so seems to describe his experience.
But when you, the passionate about food person who has mostly only eaten at Olive Garden, finally gets to the place where a lot of people your age have grown up eating in trendy bistros, well, that can be a bit discomfiting at first. You don't condescend to them. You feel a sense of shame about your roots at the Olive Garden (kind of like those former Frat Boys operating under deep cover in the Seattle music scene).
But in the long run, and to the extent that those people blanketly dismiss the Olive Garden without ever really having spent much time there, you begin to realize that those folks are the ones who are actually missing out. For they will never know just how good the Olive Garden can be under the right circumstances.
Morever, you know that but for the Olive Garden, you might have never developed your passion for food. And a passion for food, music, or anything, regardless of where it starts, is something one should never feel they have to apologize for.
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