Hagar's Van Halen a sweet substitute
The band is not the same without Roth, but his replacement did a fine job on their greatest hits.
By Patrick Berkery
For The Inquirer
That soothingly familiar mountain of shred and hooks engulfing the sold-out Wachovia Center on Wednesday might have seemed like the real Van Halen, but it was just a sweet-sounding consolation prize.
Sammy Hagar - not David Lee Roth - was belting out "Panama" and his own, milder contributions to the VH canon, such as "Dreams." Certainly not the genuine article, but better than nothing.
The Van Hagar boys have reunited in support of their forthcoming greatest-hits set, and they trotted out those hits for the first show of their two-night Wachovia Center stand. "Jump" (which opened the two-hour set), "Runaround," "Poundcake" and "Ain't Talkin' 'Bout Love" all sounded - in three words - awesome, totally awesome.
Not so awesome were three brand-new songs (that will also appear on the hits album). New single "It's About Time" was the best, but that isn't saying much.
The songwriting chops need honing, but Van Halen still delivers as players. Eddie Van Halen (shirtless and fit in cargo pants, hair stacked above his head samurai-style) remains a finger-tapping, monster-riffing, dive-bombing guitar god, while brother Alex laid down the grooves like a caveman with perfect meter.
Bassist Michael Anthony is the secret weapon with choirboy harmonies and the ability to fill in the upper-register blanks Hagar couldn't handle.
Hagar, thicker in the middle and raspier of voice, still aims to please, trying on every T-shirt and pair of sunglasses hurled his way, even tackling Roth-era material such as "Unchained," which he previously avoided.
But he's still an outsider. To wit: The opening figure of Sammy's "Why Can't This Be Love" elicited enthusiastic applause. But when Eddie laid into the gargantuan opening of "Unchained," you seriously feared that the roof might cave in from the crowd's euphoric reaction. The people had spoken: They like Sammy, they want Dave.
Northeast Philadelphia's Silvertide opened with a cocksure 30 minutes of swaggering big rock and boogie. Had filmmaker Cameron Crowe not concocted the fictitious band Sweetwater for Almost Famous, these denim-clad merchants of dirty riffs would have been perfect.
-AF