October 17, 2007
DLR, EVH and me: Van Halen in Indy, review of 10/14 show
A headful of cheap drugs, a hot summer day in the T-Top T-Bird, and some skeezy 17-year-old girl picked up at the Dairy Dream was probably the formula for rocking last time Van Halen came through with David Lee Roth. I’m not sure though, because I was five. This hard rockin’ fool and his dollars were easily parted when it was announced that Van Halen in its nearly-original form (per Dave’s quip: three quarters original, one quarter inevitable) would play Conseco Fieldhouse this October, namely last Sunday evening.
Preshow preparation was differed slightly from the hessian days of yore: a bite to eat and a couple of Bells beers were consumed at the Old Point, parking was found under Circle Center, and additional friends were met at the Hard Rock (where I bought a round of two Heinies [fuck that shit, Pabst Blue Ribbon!] and draft Budweisers…and it cost $22 dollars! A mere foreshadowing of Conseco beer pricing). I only bring up the HR and its Buds because it was inferior even to the leftover beer in the bottom of the keg on a Sunday morning at ol’ Ball State…dishwater has tasted better.
So, preshow activity accomplished, all that was left was to take out the $150 tickets, present them to the gatekeepers, and hope that Van Halen hadn’t broken up on the way to Dave’s home state. Upon finding our seats, we found them to be slightly less than hoped…club level (read: right underneath the “luxury suites”), directly stage right, nearly obstructed view. Like that whole three months’ salary thing with wedding rings…you get a little, but give a lot with Ticketmaster. Still, we remained undaunted. Seriously, folks, it’s Diamond Dave and Eddie Van Halen sharing the same stage.
The openers were one of those inexplicable, Dave-picked oddities: Ky-Mani Marley, son of Bob “I’m dead as fuck and an icon of white, middle/upper class pot smokers everywhere” Marley. His raggae band was competant and laid down good versions of “No Woman, No Cry” and “I Shot The Sherriff,” as well as a handful of originals, and then they promptly vacated the stage (quickly returning to help break down their own gear). I realize VH don’t want to be overshadowed - or even given a run for their money - but I still kinda wish they’d had the Bad Brains play instead, or something equally strange. Jah, mon. Tr00.
So after waiting perhaps a half hour, watching these weird, newfangled, radio-controlled Van Halen blimps being flown around, the lights are cut and what do you know? Van Fucking Halen is on the stage. And Eddie is kicking the riff to “You Really Got Me” (I thought rule one in rock for original bands was ‘Never open with a cover,’ but then what do I know? They’re in Van Halen, and I’m paying $150 to see them. Who’s smarter?) and the crowd is on its feet…everywhere. Not just the floor. Everywhere. And the party has begun.
Over the span of the night, the band both grew tighter in its delivery and gained momentum, only losing it for Alex Van Halen’s drum solo and Eddie’s guitar solo. Of course the set list was all-killer, no-filler, but it also included some surprisingly deep cuts. “Romeo Delight” anyone? How about “Little Guitars,” too? I’d read all the spoilers, so I knew what was coming, but you can’t help but be a little surprised and smile a little too much. Is there really a better opening riff that that of “Unchained”? Every dude who idolized EVH and picked up guitar-playing because of the music he wrote - well, of those guys who were from Indiana and there that night - yeah…they all got boners at that precise moment. I didn’t pick up a guitar because of the self-titled debut record, but I can openly admit that it threw down the gauntlet for all that came before and has come after. Shit ruled then, and it rules now, and if you can believe it, Ed is nailing that stuff to the wall on the big stage. His playing was nearly flawless.
As a band, there were a few small errors and some songs were sloppier than others - “Everybody Wants Some” and “Mean Streets” both seemed just a little off. But it didn’t matter. The band was in fine form and quite figuratively was “on fire” by set’s end. Dave included in his rants (which showed surprisingly great restraint, actually…he kept himself in check) the fact that he was from Indiana, citing his grandparents settling down in New Castle in the early 20th century and also citing Bloomington as his place of birth. It was nice to get a little personalization in otherwise canned speeches/spiel.
Oh, mercy me, the big question mark. The chubby 16-year-old holding down the bass guitar. That one. Yeah. Ya know what? It’s easy to moan and groan about Michael Anthony getting shafted and it sucking that this kid has replaced him, but he was probably the catalyst for the whole reunion happening. And he more than held up his end of the bargain. He nailed the bass parts, he nailed the vocals, and while he doesn’t have the quote unquote STAGE PRESENCE that all these 40-year-old doofus dudes ramble about on message boards, the kid is obviously having a great time and he’s getting it down. He utilized the whole stage - the circular catwalk out front and the ramp up the back. It warmed the bottom of my former-chubby-high-school-kid (current-chubby-adult-kid) heart and nearly brought a tear of joy to my eye. Yeah, he’s the son of the guitarist but it still kinda feels like he won one for all of us who ever daydreamed about sharing a stage with our heroes.
By the end of the night, everything got played that needed to be heard and smiles were the only thing to be seen all around - well, and confetti and a giant inflatable mic that Dave didn’t ride due to his constraining, super tight leather trousers. People were still yelling “Van Halen!” and screaming the inevitable “Wooooo!” on the way out of the building. Good times, I say, good times! The mulletheads have spoken: Van Halen is fucking back, Van Halen is fucking badass, and Van Halen fucking rocked Indianapolis.
I was there as well. It was all in all a pretty amazing show. It sounds like I was on the exact opposite side of the stage.
gorsh. $150? maybe if they came to my house and played ‘Atomic Punk.’
sad i missed it though