Roger Waters - The Wall at Rose Garden, Portland, OR 5/22/12

From the E-Rock Archives: Van Halen at the Rose Garden December 1, 2007

In the saturated rock reunion climate today, there are precious few revelations left. The Police? Reunited. Pink Floyd? Reunited with Roger Waters, at least for one night. Led Zeppelin? Realigned for a one-off show and very likely a tour if a Rolling Stone cover story portends anything. Are there any surprises left?

Well, there is one. David Lee Roth's prodigal son-like return to the Van Halen microphone seemed all but unlikely, after several failed attempts over the years for he and Eddie Van Halen to finally realize the seemingly hopeless dream of many a rock fan. To be fair, perhaps the timing wasn't right until now; the obstacles Eddie's faced in recent years include divorce, rehab and even cancer. Also, anyone familiar with Roth realizes he's a notorious clown and let's face it, the bane of Eddie's existence on a personal and historical level. We all know that Van Halen did not get inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame this past January on the strength of the Sammy Hagar material. How perverse then, that this unlikely and overwhelmingly successful reunion that touched down in Portland this past Saturday came just a few months too late for the appropriate Van Halen personnel to receive the honor in person; they had to cede the formalities to Hagar and recently-ousted longtime bassist Michael Anthony.

But with a catalog this rich and the irresistible Diamond Dave back at center stage, who gives a damn about an awards ceremony, really? While a return of a Roth-fronted Van Halen has been one of most significant missing pillars in the house of recent rock history, the thunderous, triumphant evening at the Rose Garden this past Saturday night confirmed that the house is now stabilized.

Van Halens Eddie, Alex and Wolfgang (Eddie's son installed as bass player and set list architect in favor of Anthony) really made this a family-style affair, and it was undeniably touching at points to see Eddie kneeling/playing next to his son, both experiencing the ecstasy of playing beloved songs to a worshipful crowd. Though Anthony's inclusion would have made this reunion complete, the kid was alright, plucking his bass and harmonizing with his old man at least as well as the erstwhile bassist. Meanwhile, Alex attacked his kit with typical hyperactive force, complete with those signature drum fills and double-bass drum wallop. And what more can you say about Eddie? Trim, shirtless, doing scissor kicks, smiling, and clearly juiced by the deafening ovation of the crowd, his guitar work is just as accomplished and exhilarating as when his band dropped their debut album three decades ago.

And then there's Roth. It's surreal to see him onstage alongside Eddie and Alex again, and even he clearly recognizes the headiness of it all. With an above-the-shoulders physicality that should earn him the title of "Rock's Bobble Head," not to mention an open mouth, toothy grin firmly affixed to his face throughout, rock's famous joker was clearly having as much of a blast as the audience. Despite a short haircut that might not be god-given, a slightly stiffer back that nonetheless allowed plenty of fairly acrobatic leg kicks, he delivered on more cylinders than anyone might have expected. Even though Roth retains his slightly disappointing habit of omitting words and phrases from lyrics that are of biblical significance to fans, his enthusiasm and unbridled joy made up for it.

The quartet started slightly tentatively with a workmanlike "You Really Got Me," and didn't seem to hit stride until the surprising fourth number, the Women and Children First deep cut "Romeo Delight." It was at this point that Van Halen began to reveal the fist-pumping, serious fan-appeasing pleasures to come; while riff-laden anthems like "Unchained" and "Panama" got the expected attention, hearing relative obscurities and hidden catalog gems such as Diver Down's sentimental "Little Guitars," the wacky "Everybody Wants Some," "And the Cradle Will Rock" (complete with its squalling, death-from-above guitar intro), and the haunting "Little Dreamer" was what made this night an essential, long overdue pilgrimage for the faithful.

Throughout, the instrumentation was airtight, with Eddie's fingers still nimbly dancing around his fret board and Alex and Wolfgang ably holding down the bottom end. For his part, the strutting Roth was hugely entertaining and proved himself the most qualified captain of this ship (sorry, Gary Cherone). One of many highlights was when he stood solo at center stage and played "Ice Cream Man" on an acoustic, complete with a verbose story as to how the tune came to be. It was an intimate moment, but Roth didn't get much time alone, as the band fell in soon enough to perform the electric segment of the song. It was a rare space of calm and quiet, and if there's a criticism to be levied at this two-hour program, it's the sheer breathlessness of it all; given the history and storytelling potential with these guys, a brief song intro here or there, or a chat with the audience, would be a nice way to break up the proceedings. And hey, Eddie – do you talk at all?

The burning question now is, what is next for Eddie, Alex, Wolfgang and Dave? If Eddie finally broke down and did this tour to bring his life's work full circle and end it all on a high note, his legacy, always towering, is far more burnished than it was say, a year ago. But if they do press on and do a new album, they have their work cut out for them. However, given the musical force, familial love and glory-reclaimed elation on display at the Rose Garden, it's still not a good bet to count Van Halen out. Whatever they decide to do, the hopes of countless fans have been realized in one of the most surprising and needed rock reunions of recent years.

Broken, Beat and Scarred

Metallica/Down/The Sword
Rose Garden Arena Portland, OR
November 1
"What don't KILL YA makes ya more strong!" sang frontman James Hetfield during Metallica's pummeling metal avalanche in Portland. Older, wiser and returning from the edge of near-implosion with their new song cycle Death Magnetic, the leonine singer, drummer Lars Ulrich, axeman Kirk Hammett and bassist Rob Trujillo summoned the thunder and rode the lightning for two merciless hours.
While deafening ovations and arena-wide, synchronized fist-pumping were the norm, you can mainly credit timeless, male adolescent angst and Metallica's mere presence for that. Metallica, three decades in, is a tad predictable, especially for longtime fans. The guitars? Thrashing and speedy. The drums? Precise and insistent. The amps? Loud. The bass player? Inaudible. The surprises of today's Metallica mainly reside in eye-popping stage effects (the dancing lasers and multi-hued flames were undeniably impressive) and their well-advised dusting off of deep cuts in concert.
After opening with the hell-bound speed-coaster of Death Magnetic's "That Was Just Your Life," the band leapt right into the spiraling grind of "The End of the Line." Clearly, finality is on Metallica's mind these days. With a resurrection like the one they experienced after their near-breakup and almost universally despised last record, St. Anger , it's no wonder.
With a building full of forgiving, cross-generational fans fueling them, the metal legends thrashed away at songs both dusty and shiny, giving the house a fairly representative sampling of their songbook. Shockingly, only a single song from consensus favorite album Master of Puppets was performed (the title cut), but their previous effort Ride The Lightning was mined repeatedly with the truly unexpected title track, the ominous "For Whom the Bell Tolls" and the vicious yet most welcome "Fight Fire with Fire," which boasted the evening's most spectacular flame effects.
Throughout, Hetfield was in strong voice and displayed remarkable energy, headbanging and stomping about the in-the-round stage. Ulrich was metronomic in his drumming, reliable yet less spectacular to watch than when he was a seemingly eight-armed younger man. Meanwhile, Hammett and Trujillo were on point, plucking and slashing through riff-bombs like "No Remorse," "Sad But True," the latest single "The Day That Never Comes" and, at the encore, the covers "Last Caress" and "Stone Cold Crazy." Three decades on, and a shoo-in for a Rock And Roll Hall of Fame induction next year, Metallica may be broken, beat and scarred, to paraphrase one of their new tunes, but they die hard.
Opening this major concussion of an evening was The Sword, a gang of longhairs that offered a fleet, hair-toss-worthy brand of thrash that recalled early Metallica. After The Sword was run through the Rose Garden, the quite intimidating Down, fronted by ex-Pantera singer Phil Anselmo, offered a slower, sludgier brand of metal that gradually won the crowd over, big time. It didn't hurt that Pantera's bass player was also onstage, nor that a tribute to the defunct band's late Dimebag Darrell was included. Perhaps the most striking thing about Down's set was Anselmo's very noticeable evolution from Pantera's drunk, belligerent junkie to what looked to be a clean-cut, thinner Glenn Danzig. The deep-voiced menace, while still a badass, now exudes a gracious, humble bearing towards his fans, bowing down to them and applauding them throughout the show. Who says metal is a dead-end road? If Anselmo has a new lease on life, there's hope for us all.

Prove It All Night

Some unusual things happened in Portland, Oregon on March 28. It snowed. Then the sun came out. Then it snowed again. And Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band played the Rose Garden. It was a Friday to remember.

Playing to a slightly less than capacity crown, and on the road in support of his rocking, serious-minded new album "Magic," Bruce and his band of brothers breathed fist-pumping energy into an incomparably great repertoire and blew away any apathetic shadow that might have loomed over the hearts of all assembled. Springsteen was in the house, and Portland was on its feet.

Though the well-paced, career-spanning setlist for the Rose Garden show followed roughly the same pattern as most shows of this second leg of the "Magic" trek (Born to Run's saxophone-heavy call to action "Night" as the opener, into "Radio Nowhere," etc.), it was clear that the framework Springsteen wanted consisted of the "Magic" material. Indeed, the new songs came off more powerfully than the obligatory favorites ("Born to Run," "Dancing in the Dark") and Bruce geek-appeasing deep cuts (a slightly tentative version of "For You").

Standing out among the recent material was the driving "Last to Die," both a no-nonsense elegy to the soldiers and foreign civilians dying daily overseas and an indictment of the leaders and politics whose mistakes have cost those lives. Several songs earlier, the haunting title cut of the new album found Bruce in stripped-down mode, with only fiddle player Soozie Tyrell accompanying him. With its sleight-of-hand message and words of resignation, "This is what will be," it proved one of the most telling and resonant moments of the 2 hour, 20-minute show.

Despite his seriousness and sense of artistic responsibility, the stage has never been a bully pulpit for Bruce; if anything, it's the ground floor for rock n' roll revival, and reverend Springsteen preached from the good songbook. The defiant "Prove It All Night" was a triumph, as were the joyous "She's the One" and the harmonica-seared, stomping-blues take on "Reason to Believe."

The entire performance was spectacular, with Bruce, Steven Van Zandt, Nils Lofgren, Gary Tallent, Clarence Clemons, Max Weinberg, Tyrell and Charlie Giordano (subbing for the cancer-stricken E-Streeter Danny Federici) anticipating each other's moves perfectly and giving their all to every number. While the show's cruising altitude was high throughout, two songs that were requested by audience signs jetted even higher into the stratosphere: the devastating slow-burner "Lost in the Flood" (in place of "The River" on the setlist) and the gorgeous, climactic "Jungleland," where Clemons' soaring and heart-rending sax solo alone was a testament to the incredible power of rock n' roll. By the time Bruce and the E Streeters closed with the uplifting Pete Seeger rave-up "American Land," the Rose Garden was pleasantly exhausted. Bruce? He was just getting started, it seemed.