I stood in the crowd, transfixed, adrenaline pumping, with an overwhelming desire to be closer. It was like a force was pulling me towards the stage.
I moved in closer, within two or three rows from the rail, pushing my way in, using my elbows to gain a foothold in front of this goddamn unreal guitar player.
I could not tell what his amp was; it was hard to get a look at that side of the stage, the sound system blocked it. The monitors blocked his pedalboard, so I couldn't tell how he was getting that badass whooshing sound, either. The same thing for the bomb, there was no way to understand what the fuck was in there.
This shit was mysterious! How was he getting this unbelievable sound?
Runnin' With The Devil made sense to me now. I found myself grooving with the beat, throwing my fists up and down, in time with the bass. I was entirely under the influence of Van Halen now, just like the rest of the crowd. The place was going wild! I had never felt this kind of energy at a show before. The girls were screaming for Dave, and the dudes were riveted by Eddie. Michael and Alex were doing their job as the unsung heroes of the band, laying down a rock-solid foundation, so Dave and Eddie had the freedom to do their thing.
In the deafening roar of the crowd after Devil, a sound began emanating from the guitar that put jaws on the floor again, the intro to Atomic Punk. I watched with wonder as Edward stood in the spotlight and moved his hand quickly over the pickup of the Strat; He seemed to be using his palm, rubbing his strings. Combined with the power of his amps and whatever effects he was using, it was like a space-age jet plane was about to take off.
Whaasshhaaa Whaacckah Whaasshhaaa Whaacckah Whaasshhaaa Whaacckah!
Then, they kicked into the groove of the song, and we were on a high-speed journey down the kick-ass highway.
I had never heard anything so fucking good. I stopped trying to figure out what was going on and surrendered to the moment.
Another blistering solo shattered my sense of reality and the esteem in which I held my other guitar heroes.
This was driven home even harder when I'm The One unfolded before me, in all of its live glory. It was an uptempo boogie-woogie number that brought new meaning to the term boogie.
The solos in I'm The One drove the nail in the coffins of all my previous guitar gods, one smoking note at a time. This song was the first time I noticed him do the two-handed tapping on the neck, but we didn't know it was two-handed tapping, at that moment, it was just...Fokkinnn Jammmmin'!
So much killer guitar shit was going down; there was no way to keep up with it.
Then they stopped in the middle and did the "Bop bada, shooby doo wah!" part in perfect vocal harmony... what planet were these dudes from?
Eddie broke his bar off at the end of the song, showed it to Dave, they started laughing, then Ed threw it into the crowd. They were having so much fun, it was infectious.
Subconsciously I knew the show must be coming to a close soon. I did not want it to, I could care less about Sabbath now, I would have watched Van Halen all night.
I took a breath, I had been cheering and screaming along with everyone, surely we'd seen it all, what else could they possibly do?
This next bit is burned in my memory like few things I have ever experienced. As many of my guitar nerd and musician friends know, there are times your life is changed in a heartbeat by a musician, making music in the moment.
Recordings are great, but nothing compares to the communal vibe of being connected in the moment at a live show, nothing.
The stage goes dark, and then David Lee Roth shouts, "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, EDWARD VAN HALEN!"
They hit the lights, and Edward joins the drummer in a pounding introduction to the guitar solo, Eruption.
I stood, astounded, mouth open, holding my breath, as the most incredible piece of electric guitar wizardry I had ever seen and heard unfolded before me.
It started off with power chords, and then he flies into a barrage of rapid-fire double picking, muted legato runs, and whammy bar flailing. All this while running back and forth from his amps to the front of the stage, body writhing as beautiful noise filled the auditorium. The sound dude had to know history was being made...it was loud and proud.
After a minute of whammy bar armageddon with feedback, crazy siren sounds, and the sound of atom bombs destroying a city, the fastest double picking thing I ever heard goes flying past. I watched his wrist moving, defying the laws of nature, then the band comes in, "BOMMM BAMMM BAAHHHMMMM...."
If the first half of Eruption wasn't enough, here came the knife, dealing the fatal blow.
The stage lights go black, a lone spotlight burns on Edward as he plays the last set up part, and then goes into the finger-tapping fugue, which is the climax of the solo.
There was no way this was a guitar!
But there it was, right in front of my eyes, going down in real-time.
Just like the calendar was split at B.C., the time before Christ, there was a new split in my calendar; B.E., Before Eruption.
(Now don't be getting your panties in a wad thinking I'm comparing EVH to Jesus, you know what the hell I'm talking about here, don't be dumb.)
The spirit of Mozart reverberated amidst Municipal Auditorium through a Marshall amp, and a hot-rodded Stratocaster. For a brief moment, there was not one noise other than Eddie's guitar as we all stood and gazed in wonder, spellbound.
I mouthed, "Wowwww..."
I probably looked like a caveman the first time he saw fire.
He finished the tapping part, did an ungodly dive bar drop, and then ran to the bomb and turned some knobs, which brought a fleet of aural flying saucers in for a landing.
I let out a stream of expletives that would make most of the shit I've already subjected you to in these pages, seem tame. (I'll give you a break.)
Everybody was freaking the fuck out.
I believe I literally went into a kind of shock. Laugh all you want, but you have to realize here, nobody had ever seen or heard anything like this before.
Edward (I knew his name now) laid his Strat against the speakers and let it howl while his tech brought out the "Shark" guitar, and they kicked into You Really Got Me at maximum power. We were putty in their hands now, ready to follow Van Halen off the edge of a cliff if that's where they wanted to go.
"I went to the edge, I stood and looked down..."
Van Halen played a lot longer than they were supposed to that night. Unbeknownst to them, Ozzy Osbourne had never made it to the gig.
Every time I would get bummed, thinking it was about to be over, they would convene over at stage left, talking to someone, and then come out and do another one.
I know they played everything from the first album, and they also played DOA, and I think Somebody Get Me A Doctor, but I'm not absolutely sure.
I know we brought them back for a few encores too.
When they finally did play their last song, and the final notes echoed in my brain as the house lights came up, I felt like I did when I was twelve years old and a tornado had ripped through our neighborhood, leaving us all bewildered as we stepped outside to check on our friends.
Stunned is the proper description, stunned and dazed, but euphoric.
After milling about a while, and exchanging lively recounts with a few dudes, I walked back toward the exit of the floor area to see if I could find a place to sit, and re-group.
I needed to process this shit. I also wanted to remember everything I picked up on watching Edward, so I could go home and try some of it. I was seriously contemplating doing that very thing when some poor bastard came out and said that Sabbath was not going to play.
He was immediately showered with cups, popcorn bags, and other various trash as the crowd that Van Halen had worked up into a frenzy, now had nowhere to focus their energy, except on that poor guy.
He ran for his life off the stage.
I turned and walked away, I really didn't give a shit.
If I was Ozzy, I would hate to follow that juggernaut night after night, too.
As I exited the Municipal, guys were yelling and screaming, knocking over trash cans, beating on windows, it was full-on pandemonium. I was maybe about a half-block up 5th avenue when I heard one of the large glass windows of the auditorium crash down. Who knows what they did to it, goddamn.
All I wanted to do was get home and play my guitar.
I was fucking inspired!
I'm sure Edward Van Halen put the fear of God in many a good guitar player the first time they saw him, but not me.
I knew I was never going to be able to play at that level, but I was going to try, dammit.
I was too green to be discouraged.
I walked back towards Papermill Press, mind racing.
I needed that Van Halen album, like, now.
My Strat did not have a whammy bar, I needed one.
I also needed to figure out how to get my amp to sound like that. (Sounds easy, but this was the beginning of a chase for guitar tone that would last for years.)
"Maybe I could get Fish to paint my guitar with a spider web!" I thought.
I walked on, replaying the event in my mind.
What did I just witness?
Just like that, I had a new guitar hero.
Sorry, Ritchie.
It was cold, I pulled my jacket tight and lit a cigarette.
I walked on as the yells of pissed-off rednecks deprived of their rock show echoed through the streets. They obviously didn't see the same show I just saw, or if they did, they were not guitar players.
(To be continued)
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