Edward Van Halen: A Definitive Biography (23 page)

The artistry of Ed’s music, once again, was sullied by juvenile lyrics. There’s innuendo, and then there’s tragic, failed attempts at innuendo. “Poundcake” is the latter. One could go through the song line by line and attempt to find a nugget or two of a hint of something that might suggest something along the lines of genuine love for your partner, but the refrain “I sure love my baby’s poundcake” is as blunt and disposable a line ever penned. It’s because of that that “Poundcake” doesn’t have the timelessness its music deserves—Sammy’s contribution was the bad apple in the barrel that spoiled the whole bunch.

The rest of the album followed the same pattern. Ed came up with amazing licks and riffs using a Danelectro six-string bass for “Spanked” only for the song to be ruined by lyrics about 1-900 sex numbers. Two phrases that don’t go together: timeless and classic, and “Call me up on the spank line.” Even Sam’s attempt at capturing the irony of having to pay to born and pay to be die (via the funeral, etc.) was completely marred by the title “In ’n Out.” It is a sexual play on words any way you look at it, and reading the title on the back of the album titled
For
Unlawful
Carnal
Knowledge
was enough to make even the most diehard devotee of the band just roll their eyes.

Drinking before Lamaze

In mid-November, the house was finally finished, all but the electricity, but Ed and Val moved in anyway. Valerie said, “It looked magnificent, like a fairy tale castle, and I was ready for my fairy tale to begin.” The house was incredible, but at first they felt like it might have been a bit too much. Valerie said they couldn’t even shout across the house to each other—they had to use the phone.

That Thanksgiving would be far more pleasant that the last family holiday gathering. The Van Halens and the Bertinellis all came together for dinner at the new house. There was a combination of Indonesian and Italian food cooked and served to accommodate everyone’s heritage. Valerie said that with everyone there and football blaring on the television, it finally felt like home.

Yet, Valerie recalled that Ed went back to drinking approximately “three-quarters of the way through” her pregnancy, which would put it right around the end of 1990 or early 1991. While Andy Johns was no doubt a contributing factor, it was just a simple fact of falling back into old habits, a more and more familiar pattern. In January 1991, Ed and Val were taking Lamaze classes prepping for Wolfie’s birth, and Eddie was showing up with alcohol on his breath. “(He was) behaving in ways that drew stares from the other couples. Those sessions could be horribly embarrassing.” Ed tried to keep her happy with jewelry and other presents, but Valerie said “I would have traded all of that for a sober week of his time.”

Finishing the Album with the Dirty Title

In the studio, Sammy said, “Andy Johns was a disaster. With Al sober, Eddie needed a new partner in crime and that was Andy.” He claimed that Andy was intoxicated almost perpetually, and Eddie eventually ended up getting trashed along with him. So Ted Templeman re-entered the picture.

Ted arrived in January, and as Eddie said, “He cracked the whip and pulled everything together.” Ed admitted that between himself, Andy, Alex, and Michael, they could’ve spent years experimenting without ever finding a stopping point. Ted was a “very organized cat,” as per Eddie, “he came in to save the day.” Ted rarely grants interviews out of his belief that producers should remain behind the scenes, but offered one up to
Guitar
World
that year. After years apart, Ted said, “It was a little awkward, in the beginning, because it was a new studio environment. But in terms of the band, it’s like we’d never parted.” As far as his role on the album, Ted said that Edward and Andy had built the car, and that he just painted and polished it.

Sammy insists that he brought Ted in himself after Andy accidentally erased one of Sammy’s vocal takes. “That was it,” said Sam. “I wasn’t working with the guy anymore. I stormed out of the studio.” Ted ended up doing all of the vocals with Sammy, and Ted had the final word on the mix of the album.

One track on the album would be called “316”—named for the date of Wolfie’s birth. The beautiful, clean solo guitar piece was an older piece Ed had used to slow down his solo spot a bit with something bluesy and jazzy as far back as the
5150
tour. It was one of the songs Ed played acoustically against Valerie’s belly. In a critique of the song, former Watchtower and powerhouse solo guitarist Billy White said, “He’s gotten past the point of trying to impress people. He just plays exactly what’s right without having that kind of guitar hero thing hanging over his head… . You can hear it in his playing.”

CHAPTER 26 

Another Van Halen Production

Valerie’s March 3 due date came and went, and she was none too pleased. She was bedridden, and Ed’s drinking drove her so crazy that she couldn’t stand the sound of him playing guitar or piano. As the wait progressed, Ed again showered her with lavish gifts, this time a Chevy-Nomad with personalized plates that read SHESMAD. Eventually, Valerie ended up at the hospital where they had to induce labor via a Pitocin drip. The whole family was there, but Val’s labor went on for a good ten hours. She wasn’t allowed to eat and was starving. Edward left the delivery room for a breather and grabbed a candy bar. When he came back to the room, Valerie went ballistic. “You had a Payday bar, didn’t you? And you were eating it while I was sleeping, weren’t you?” Ed was wracked with guilt and said, “I ate it outside. While you were sleeping after the second epidural… . Honey, I was so hungry. I’m sorry.”

Wolfgang entered the world on March 16, 1991. Ed was overjoyed, sometimes incredibly overcome. “I caught Ed staring at Wolfie with a look of disbelief, as if he couldn’t have helped create something so miraculous,” said Val. Ed was doting right off the bat—he eagerly changed diapers and loved feeding Wolfie in the middle of the night; he even kept a bottle warmer at his bedside. Being a first-time mother and having suffered a miscarriage, Valerie was a nervous wreck for the first few months after the birth, even terrified of walking down the spiral staircase.

Finally, the Album with the Dirty Title

Out in the backyard, work on the new album continued. Ed’s drinking toward the end of the recording escalated to 12 to 15 beers per day. He admitted, “It’s completely ass-backwards. And the only reason I keep doing it is because it works, believe it or not. It just breaks down the inhibitions. And I’m too inhibited, ordinarily—I get real nervous.” The same nervousness he felt as a six-year-old who couldn’t speak English hiding behind his bigger brother, watching him get beat up for being different. The nervousness that Jan cured with a lick of Vodka. Pondering the frustration of why he was wired to be nervous and why he had to rely on alcohol, the same thing that killed his father and was potentially going to kill him, had to have been a source of great distress. As he himself said, he has that X factor. He didn’t ask to be born with it, he just was. Then he ends up in the Catch-22 of “alcohol: the cause of
and
solution to all of life’s problems” cycle.

While the new album was free of sap-soaked power ballads, it did feature a bit of a dramatic pop classic, the song “Right Now.” It is singular in that the sound is not that of a heavy synthesizer, but of a straight grand piano. The rapid-fire, delicate, haunting melody countered by the heavy underlying bass chord changes was effective and extremely successful. Lyrically, the idea of living for today—the idea that you could get hit by a bus tomorrow and not wanting to ever die with regrets—it is certainly and admirable subject and worthy of reflection. It’s just that when Sammy Hagar gives it a go, without the least bit of surprise, it’s trite. One line from the
Van
Halen
album captured the entire essence of the song more than a dozen years before: “I live my life like there’s no tomorrow.” In fact, that’s the opening lyric on the very first Van Halen album, period. Eddie told Sam, “I played this for you on the last album and you didn’t dig it.” Interestingly, Edward originally composed the song with the notion that it would be perfect for Joe Cocker’s voice.

The crux of the song, though, is the opening and closing piano refrain. It has that feel that makes it
perfect
for brief interludes at major sporting events. As a Texas Longhorns football season ticket holder, I have heard the song over the PA at least once at every single game for nearly two decades. That riff goes out to a stadium of 100,000 people and the feel of that melody sweeps them all. Every time it happens, without fail, I bump my uncle and say, “That’s Van Halen, by the way.” It’s the opening piano part they play—not the vocal part.

The album is rounded out with the recycled tag from the end of “Jump” becoming “Standin’ on Top of the World.” Musically, it’s a decent pop-rock composition. Lyrically it is cliché after cliché after cliché. “Let’s give it all we got.” About the song, Eddie said: “I almost didn’t want to put that on the record, because everything else seemed so new and fresh. Andy forced me to put it in… . To be honest, we had five other tunes that I would’ve preferred to use.”

Finally, the album was in the bag. The title
For
Unlawful
Carnal
Knowledge
was Sammy’s idea, but Eddie went along with it. They chose to test the bounds of censorship, and ultimately, they did on several occasions, a few somewhat serious. There may have been another factor, though, driving the band to do something outrageous or something that potentially pitted one generation versus another. By 1991, the music scene had changed. Drastically.

An Alternative

Here they came: Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Ministry, Nine Inch Nails, Jane’s Addiction, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Smashing Pumpkins, Alice in Chains, Pantera. And there they went: Bon Jovi, Ratt, Warrant, Poison, Motley Crue, Def Leppard, Dio, Iron Maiden, Skid Row. Long, big hair became ridiculous. Tight clothes became absurd. A brightly painted guitar with a tremolo bar became uncool. The biggest change though was in the lyrical content of the new wave of music. Specifically, the song “Cherry Pie” by Warrant was the absolute breaking point for anti-intellectual, base and banal garbage lyrics. It was The Beach Boys gone porno. It had reached its end. Lyrics with more of a Dylan-Morrison-Lennon bent were back in style big time. People wanted to listen and stop and think and talk about the lyrics. A complete 180 from “Do it ’til we’re black and blue.”

Sadly, of course, when everyone turned their back on the 80s, David Lee Roth was among the very first to go. His antics in the “Yankee Rose” video alone would have him indicted as the definition of exactly what was no longer cool at all. As a member of Van Halen and for his first EP—Dave’s videos are classic. Right at “Yankee Rose”—he pushed it too far, period. His 1991 solo album with guitarist Jason Becker was really a collection of some fairly outright plaintive songs, and it did not fair well commercially at all. Sadly, Becker was stricken with Lou Gehrig’s Disease and was given only a few years to live. He is alive to this day and communicates by blinking his eyes via a system developed by his father. Edward reached out to Jason and established a friendship with him completely on his own.

In 1991, through the strength of Ed’s songwriting, Van Halen was able to transcend both the rising and the falling bands of the day and stay in the mix. A controversial album title was a relatively good move. The only thing is, past its first year of release, the title lost all of its impact. Because of the changing music scene, in an interview in September, about finger-tapping—not done at all in the 90s, period—Edward said, “Sometimes I almost feel embarrassed for coming up with that shit!”

In the end, the title was just another one of Hagar’s “how much more blatant can you be?” personal challenges. Eddie Vedder drew a hanger on his arm on
Unplugged
to illustrate a pro-choice stance. Kurt Cobain made the tortured individual a hero. Sammy’s response is “let’s call the album
fuck
.” Again, initial giggles all around, followed by guffaws. Followed by silence and an ahem. And right at the same moment they are trying to re-establish their credibility; they took a $2 million dollar check for using “Right Now” in a Crystal Pepsi commercial. Although somewhat commonplace now, it was theretofore relatively unfathomable.

Still in the Game

The album referred to as
F.U.C.K.
came out in June 1991 and for the third straight time in a row, the album went to #1 on the
Billboard
charts. Three up to bat with Sammy—three number ones—no
Thriller
to run blocker. The new album was definitely an improvement over
OU812
sonically and musically, but not lyrically. As far as the lyrics went, writer Jean Rosenbluth noted, “There’s not a ballad in the bunch, and the group abandoned its short-lived pretention of including a lyric sheet with the album.” By mid-July, after three weeks, the album was still the biggest selling in the country.

The fact that the album succeeded despite the lyrical movement of the day truly speaks to Edward’s remarkable ability to write, compose, and arrange compelling, new and interesting material. Ted Templeman said, “Edward, who’s been struggling to synthesize his role as a serious songwriter and a guitar hero, has managed with this record to bring both sides together.”

The tour started in August. Boosting their credibility by embracing some of the new kids in town, Alice in Chains was the opening act on the tour. The only Roth-era songs in the set were “Panama,” “You Really Got Me,” and “Jump.” Eddie’s drinking escalated and his behavior worsened. The tour proceeded almost non-stop from August until a brief break in mid-November.

In September, in Costa Mesa, California, a review of the show suggests it was a pure love-fest. Sammy told the crowd that Edward was “my best friend in the world.” Ed returned the sentiment. That same month, the band kicked off the 1991 MTV Video Music Awards with a live performance of “Poundcake.” Edward was 100 percent on his game and played flawlessly, utilizing the drill as both a performance and musical jaw dropper. MTV was instrumental in ushering in the new wave of alternative music, so opening the award show that year was a hell of a coup for the band.

Shortly after their performance, the band was interviewed briefly backstage. Pee Wee Herman was a few months off of his porno theater bust and had introduced the opening of the award show in costume saying, “Heard any good jokes lately?” Kurt Loder was interviewing the band and asked what they thought of Herman’s situation, Eddie said “I tell you, though, there are people out there that do a lot worse things than what he did, you know? Like, like
preachers
. You know, man? Give me a break. He’s cool.”

Valerie ended up in North Carolina on location for another one of her TV movies, and Ed joined her during the band’s first brief respite. It did not go well. It was a virtual repeat of the infamous New Year’s Eve of 1989, only without a punch to the face. Val said, “He proceeded to drink his way through the entire time we spent together.” As per Valerie in her autobiography:

The four of us had gone out one night, and Ed exploded in a rage. He yelled at my mom and then destroyed our rental car, breaking the windshield and kicking the rear until it dented. My poor mother was traumatized by Ed’s verbal assault, while my emotions ran from embarrassment at having to call the producers and lie about what had happened to the car, to hurt, to outrage, and anger… . Ed struggled with his own issues, too. Every so often, he’d fly a girl out to meet him on tour. Everyone knew but me.

In January 1992, Alice in Chains left the tour to be replaced by no-names Baby Animals. That month, I was just shy of my 20
^th
birthday, in a band, and I was a torn individual musically. I was completely into the new music—I was in college. But you cannot separate yourself from a band you’ve been following since you were seven just because they were in danger of falling out of fashion. My old buddy Mike and I decided it would just be dumb not to go see them on January 29 at the Frank Erwin Center in Austin. We bought tickets just before the show, but ended up with fairly good seats on Ed’s side. It was a bit of a last-minute decision. Not like the time we camped out for tickets six months in advance of the
1984
show.

This was my fifth Van Halen concert. It was the one I was the least excited about, but I was thinking
“If
Eddie
Van
Halen
is
in
my
town
playing,
how
could
I
possibly
not
go
see
him?”
I remember that the show was pretty good, but a tad lackluster because of Sammy who continued to ramble on about how he drank too much the night before in Dallas. I remember thinking to myself, “You are here in front of a good 12,000 people or so—be a professional. Don’t address the audience by wryly implying that you can’t put on a decent show for them because you partied too hard the night before.” I didn’t pay good money to hear that crap. Of course, Sammy was playing the “everybody likes to party a little too hard—and, hey, I’m just like you, I’m just a regular guy” role. I would say this is particularly egregious when your voice is your instrument.

I was very satisfied with Ed’s playing whether or not he had been drinking, and pulled my old trick of walking around to the section closest to him for his solo and got to observe him from within fifty feet. He was incredible and played a lot of new material I had never heard him do before. I walked out of the concert with the feeling that Ed put everything he had into it—any emo guilt I felt about still being a VH fan was completely wiped out by Edward’s playing and performance. I also walked out thinking Sam came off as a pathetic, hungover “performer” that barely even moved around on stage the entire night.