Record label jumps off the Van Halen bandwagon

ROSS RAIHALA

Originally published Friday, February 8, 2002

Van Halen has seemingly done everything possible to alienate the very people who once made them gods.

The record industry suffered through rough times in 2001, a year punctuated by slumping sales, disappointing records and a general lack of interest in the superstars that once seemed like sure bets.

The first weeks of the new year have suggested there's only one serious area of growth for the major labels, and that's in the unemployment lines.

Mariah Carey, of course, grabbed headlines last month when EMI "parted ways" with the scantily clad songbird.

The company decided it was worth nearly $50 million to rid itself of Carey after her widely despised "Glitter" soundtrack and accompanying film both died miserable and extremely public deaths.

The latest act to join Carey, David Bowie, Tori Amos and Rod Stewart in Dumpsville: Van Halen.

Van Halen!

As is typically the case with such business terminations, both parties have claimed it was a "mutual decision," although Internet rumors say VH didn't jump, it was pushed out by its longtime corporate parents, Warner Bros. Records. (And, for the record, I asked a WB publicist what was up and he said in a very measured tone: "Honestly, I don't know what the real story is.")

Just as Carey has done little to endear herself to the public -- unless you count dressing like a hooker -- Van Halen has seemingly done everything possible to alienate the very people who once made them gods.

Even the coolest of the cool indie kids have to admit the Van Halen of old knew how to crank out pleasingly stupid ear candy, from "Runnin' with the Devil" to "Panama."

And while the Sammy Hagar era never really lived up to the David Lee Roth days in terms of absurd excess, those Hagar records sold shockingly well and kept the Van Halen brand name thriving.

Even 1995's stinky "Balance" release managed to move 2 million copies, and I'm not sure even Eddie Van Halen's mom could name a song from it.

Things soured, however, after Sammy Hagar's mysterious exit from the group and Eddie Van Halen's subsequent transformation from goofy guitar wizard to bitter hip-replacement patient.

The rock world cheered in '96 when it looked like David Lee Roth was back in Van Halen. Hey, he lost some hair and gained a little weight and really couldn't yelp (not to mention leap) like he used to. But this was Diamond Dave, man!

After releasing two middling reunion songs, Eddie Van Halen sent Roth packing and instead of replacing him with, say Sebastian Bach, he went and hired the lamest lame who ever lamed the lame: Gary Cherone, former lead singer of Extreme, a band that was anything but what its name implied.

Despite a halfway decent first Cherone single -- as far as this sort of thing goes, anyway -- the new-look Van Halen plummeted off the charts, radio and MTV.

After fooling nobody with his brief claim Cherone was there to stay, Eddie Van Halen quietly announced Cherone was extremely dumped from the group.

And then things got really weird.

Roth earned some press last year by claiming he had recorded some "amazing" new tracks with Van Halen, but Eddie refused to comment on musical pursuits. Instead, he confirmed he was successfully battling cancer -- all the while making an appearance at a golf tournament with a lit cigarette fused to his lips, quite possibly against the advice of his oncologist.

Fans demanded to know what was happening.

Eddie Van Halen told them he wasn't dying and he wasn't getting back together with Roth. That, and keep an eye on the band's Web site, which was promised would keep the world up to date on the band's future. (The site's most notable change in the months since has been the closure of its message boards.)

Roth, meanwhile, was sued by a former Internet associate who claimed Diamond Dave hadn't paid him in more than a year.

Now, Van Halen is left without a record label or a lead singer.

Sammy Hagar is left with his perm and his tequila.

Gary Cherone is left with public shame and a solo project that is anxiously awaited by no one.

And David Lee Roth, as usual, is left without any semblance of dignity.

As for the kids who love the rock, well, they're left with Nickelback.

Uh-huh.

The return of Krist

Former Nirvana bass player Krist Novoselic has emerged for a series of recent live dates with his new band, Eyes Adrift.

The promising trio includes ex-Meat Puppets guitarist Curt Kirkwood and Sublime drummer Bud Gaugh. Kirkwood and Novoselic share vocal duties.

After Nirvana leader Kurt Cobain's 1994 suicide, drummer Dave Grohl (aka the Grunge Ringo) formed the surprisingly successful Foo Fighters.

But Novoselic largely focused his efforts in the political arena, including organizing JAMPAC (Joint Artists and Music Promotions Political Actions Committee) and participating in the anti-WTO protests in Seattle.

Novoselic flirted with rock in 1997 when he released an album with Seattle vocalist Yva Las Vegas under the band name Sweet 75. It failed to attract any serious attention, and the duo split soon after.

Eyes Adrift was born after Novoselic caught a Kirkwood solo show and approached the old friend (who played on Nirvana's "MTV Unplugged" session) with the idea of recording together.

The group has been working on a debut album in Texas and is currently shopping around for a label.

New Music Express described Eyes Adrift's sound as running "the gamut from power rock to psychedelic country."

Ross Raihala covers music for The Olympian. Send news and Top 10 lists to OlyRoss@aol.com.

The Olympian Copyright 2002

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