December 28, MGM Grand Garden Arena
Let me say before I go any further that when it comes to Van Halen, I prefer Sammy Hagar to David Lee Roth. For many of the Roth devotees who waited decades for the singer to reunite with brothers Eddie and Alex Van Halen, that statement is tantamount to blasphemy, and invalidates any opinion I might have about the semi-reunited band (minus original bassist Michael Anthony, replaced by Eddie Van Halen’s son Wolfgang). And that’s a fair position to take—certainly the strong response to the group’s packed performance December 28 at the MGM Grand Garden Arena was genuine and heartfelt, a mix of nostalgic appreciation and excitement at seeing something many thought would never happen.
But from a musical standpoint, the show wasn’t any better than the band’s last stop in Vegas, a 2004 concert with Hagar at the helm. Like that show, the MGM performance was rooted in a crowd-pleasing run through the hits, showcasing a tight band with plenty of audience goodwill and very little to lose. Guitarist Eddie Van Halen looked fit and happy after his recent stint in rehab and some rather unflattering public appearances, and his guitar work was as lively and technically proficient as ever, perhaps even a bit revitalized thanks to the reconciliation with Roth. Brother Alex rocked the drums as usual, and while Wolfgang lacked Anthony’s energy and charisma, he did a perfectly serviceable job handling the bass parts.
It was Roth that people came to see, though, and he certainly put on a show. Vegas is the perfect place for the hammy frontman (as he noted in a rambling monologue before “Ice Cream Man,” he was once fired from a gig at the MGM back in the ’90s), and he took the stage waving a giant flag, clad in the first in a series of sequined drum major-style jackets and tight leather pants. Roth seemed to put more thought into his trademark karate kicks and jerky dance moves than into his vocals, which were passable but sometimes hoarse and strained. Setting the course for the evening, Roth only sang about half the words to opener “You Really Got Me.”
The words he managed to get out were pretty good, though, and if you weren’t hoping for spectacular, there was plenty to be happy about in a set that mixed classic-rock-radio staples (“Ain’t Talkin’ ’Bout Love,” “Panama,” “Jump”) with a few Roth-era album cuts (“Somebody Get Me a Doctor,” “Mean Street”) that got their deserved moments in the spotlight. It was all aggressively competent and achingly predictable (right down to the way-too-long solo segments from each of the Van Halen brothers), but that was exactly what the audience wanted. After more than two hours with the mugging, baton-twirling, lyric-slurring Roth, though, I mostly just missed Sammy Hagar.