I LOLd for an hour straight on Tuesday cuz my Twitter was blowing up with metal people’s reactions to the Casey Anthony verdict (announced around 4PM EDT). It’s a serious situation, so dudes are mad and lending their two cents. That’s natural. But man, some people think dumb. Actually, know what? I’m just gonna c+p some metal celebrity tweets below. Remember, most of the following mini-declarations are wrought in awful logic, but not everybody on the internet is ignorant and high-horsing this shit to death. Um yeah just go ahead and keep reading and oooh the suspense…

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Van Halen, featuring the young squire Van Halen (left); Mark Tremonti (inset)

The reason that Creed guitarist Mark Tremonti is the world’s luckiest guy is not cuz he gets to party with amazing singer Scott Stapp 24/7. Nay, Tremonti is Lord Luckynuts cuz he’s buds with Wolfgang Van Halen, who is the bassist of Van Halen. Which somehow means that Eddie Van Halen, also of Van Halen, trusts Tremonti enough to allow him a live preview of new Van Halen jamz.

Tremonti described Thursday his visit to 5150 (via Van Halen News Desk):

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The challenge for tireless bullshitters like Nikki Sixx, Max Cavalera, Dave Mustaine, Steven Tyler, and Sammy Hagar is overcoming audience immunity. Know what I mean? With every distorted remembrance and self-aggrandizing observation, the shit-talker’s would-be customers (i.e. us) build a resistance to his line of artlessly cloaked sales-speak and attention-mongering. So the leg-puller succumbs to the tugging urge to ramp up the bullshit, to swing bigger and more wildly, in his quest for exposure for a crappy book, charmless side project, or half-assed clothing line. The result? Boldly false accusations, misremembered details, poorly-veiled disses, and … well, and everything Mustaine ever says. Bullshit.

Which is fine. Cuz we don’t admire musicians for their devotion to perspective and modesty (except Devin Townsend lovvvve youuuuuu). But in the case of Sixx, grand champion of public self-worship, it might be necessary to stage an intervention; the Motley Crue bassist, who spent a few years using heroin and a few decades telling the world about it, might lose a jaw bone for all his recent ShamWow-style jabbering about Crue albums that no one will buy (Saints of Los Angeles limped to gold sales status), his new photography book (lulz meet me in the quad later, stud), and the next tour to be ruined by fat-ass Vince Neil this summer with Poison. All that blabbing! His tongue must be raw with abrasions, his lips nearly flapped right off his face. He can’t stop and he needs help!

But I might be wrong. Shit, just maybe Sixx is speaking the truth and I can’t handle it. So when impartiality is key, when neutrality is a necessity, when there are cold, hard facts to be parsed from dumb, dishonest bullshit, we wheel in the always reliable MetalSucks Translate-Bot 3000. Time is of the essence if Sixx is to be saved from himself and, eventually, from gaffer-tape wielding music journalists. Go, Translate-Bot 3000, go! Click to read more…

Don’t you love classic Van Halen? It’s amazing how that band’s music can just save your day. It’s been my go-to cure for post-American Idol misery; it’s Listerine for the ear, and a reminder of what true excellence sounds like. It’s Prozac for PISD (Post Idol Stress Disorder) and a reset button on any mood soured by three phony-ass judges slinging horseshit like stableboys late for a date. See, David Lee Roth and Eddie Van Halen can drown out even the echoes of judge Jennifer Lopez’s barbed whine as she pays lip service to “finding your voice” — yeah like she’s done with her wack new single about ballin’ up in da club, the dick-biting hack — and her more-than-occasional retorts to fellow judge Randy Jackson. (I don’t get that. She already had her turn, so like shut it, harpee!).

While we’re talking VH, can we all agree to end this silly farce already with the new bass player? I don’t give a fuck who he is; whether he’s Ed’s high school-aged son or fucking Jesus Christ, it is a side issue; Michael Anthony is Van Halen. His and Ed’s backing vocals absolutely jam on those records (like here), each of which is way better than what Idol judges can’t stop calling true creativity and great artistry. Those duo vox comprise, like, 35% of the band’s appeal, so the Van Halens should put that shit back together. We, the fans, declare amnesty; we want only what is right. Plus, if the young Van Halen is as brilliant as Ed thinks, he will earn his own chances. (Same goes for these “beautiful, perfect” Idol singers.) Van Halen just is not Wolfgang’s band. It’s Michael Anthony’s, the brothers’, and Dave’s. Period. Get Michael and pay him. And Ted Templeman too. That would counteract any and all effects of American Idol, cancerous shitpile of ear-AIDS.

Okay thanks for sticking around for paragraph #3, by which point I think we’ve established that thinking about/listening to the music of Van Halen is serving as a defense mechanism to prevent my re-living the mind-blowingly stupid, untrue nonsense spewed this week by Steven Tyler (the high preist of hooey), ‘Fer-‘Pez (SYFF), Randy Jackson (how much does it cost Idol to lease your honesty, dog?), guest fucktard Sheryl Crow (want a salt lick, girl?), and each blubbering, fam’ly-lovin’, Bin Laden-hatin’ individualist genius contestant who these days would happily agree to be shat on in exchange for the Idol crown. And because of the show’s near-total resistance to real, useful critique by “your Idol judges,” I’m counteracting this you’re-all-winners jive with a nudge upwards on my assholo-stat. So here comes your stabbiest Idol Remains shitcard ever! We measure in Danzigs ‘round here!

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Flip flops, the preferred summer season footwear of douche bags and date rapists everywhere, just got metallier: yesterday Van Halen unveiled a line of flips flops modeled on Eddie Van Halen’s famous “Frankenstein” guitars.

And they’re great, because not only are they way overpriced (thirty bucks a pair for what amounts to two pieces of foam and some string), but they feature the design right in the spot where your feet would go, so no one will ever really see it anyway. Unless you just, like, leave them on display in your home or something, in which case you are a loser.

If you’re part of the .00000001% of the population that somehow enjoys Van Halen and Dave Matthews in equal measure, feel free to purchase a pair of these here. You can also go get them at Urban Outfitters, if you prefer to waste your money while listening to irritating music.

No word on when matching Van Halen shirts with pre-upturned collars will be released.

-AR

[via Noisecreep]

Here’s an interesting excerpt from a recent interview with Sammy Hagar that was conducted by Forbes, your leading source for rock and metal news:

“I was asked at one time to be in Mötley Crüe. I was asked at one time to be in Pantera by their mangers. I was asked to be in Velvet Revolver when Scott Weiland quit and went back to the Stone Temple Pilots. I was waiting to be asked to be in Led Zeppelin to say no, since they were the greatest band on earth and no could replace Robert Plant. I was asked to be in Aerosmith and I said no. Certain bands and certain front man singers are more difficult to replace than others. Steven Tyler and that band have stayed together for forty years and you don’t to walk into something like that. They had one moment years ago, when they replaced Joe Smith, but it’s still always been Steven at the front of Aerosmith. You don’t replace that. When I came into Van Halen, it was easy because Dave wasn’t a great singer, but he was a good front man. In those times, I was selling out the same arena’s they were so it was like the combination of two forces and it worked but it’s a rare thing. We were all lucky that the fans accepted it and it got bigger. I would avoid bands that are going to break up pretty soon.”

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In a perfect world, image and looks would not matter in the slightest. But until Sammy Hagar’s alien overlords take over and create utopia, we live in a time where those very things seem to be of the utmost importantance. When it comes to music, it really shouldn’t make a difference how a band looks. The key word here is “music” — they’re not working in a visual medium, so why should image be an issue? Unfortunately, the way a group is visually presented is among their defining factors, which is also reflected in their fans. I might be crudely generalizing, but let’s face it, there is some truth in most stereotypes. I like people watching, especially on music-related occasions. I will observe the people and the musicians and find patterns, because that’s interesting to me. While there will always, always be exceptions to the rule, there are certain trends that will also always be present.

The most obvious is hair.

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Sammy Hagar is a goofy dude, but for the open-hearted, there’s still much about The Red Rocker to admire. As was discussed on Tuesday, he’s successful at everything, a fact that debunks the myth of Hagar’s brainlessness; also, the guy is a good sport who understands what happens when a proud drunk publicly swears to interaction with space aliens. It’s gonna cause some disbelief and ribbing.

But he’s cool with it and will even participate in his own mocking, like he did Tuesday night when starring in a dramatic interpretation on Jimmy Kimmel Live! of his late-night extraterrestrial encounter (above). This good humor, too, makes Hagar seem sharp, as though he learned a lesson from his former bandmate Eddie Van Halen’s toothless paranoia and lack of perspective. Shit, if Eddie went on Kimmel, he’d reenact a midnight meeting with a Wolfgang-shaped lamp.

–ADF

It’s no secret that Sammy Hagar is no super-brain, but I read his interviews lest they include some sort of hint to his achievement of mega-wealth. How, I ask myself every payday, does a bimbo like Hagar fall assbackwards into riches so throughly and regularly? He sold 40 million albums with Van Halen alone; his tequila and cantina ventures regularly reroute cash from dummies into the Hagar coffers; he’s in the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame and one of his jamz reached American Idol last week; even his garage door opener business is a winner. What is his secret? It’s love! Hagar told The Onion:

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I was bummed last month when I heard that FUBAR‘s Dean “Deaner” Murdoch (Paul J. Spence) was detained at the Canadian border and would not grace the SXSW Film Festival with his presence. So, I took matter into my own hands and tracked the one-balled mustachioed metalhead down and asked him for some sticky pearls of wisdom. Instead, he gave me a Top 10 list. – CM

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Massive amounts of alcohol: Never responsible for altered memories or people saying stupid, insane shit.

So the thing is, Sammy Hagar seems like a swell fella — certainly much nicer than any of his former cohorts from Van Halen — and there was a time when I really enjoyed Van Hagar, and was able to view the (then-) two different VH eras in a kind of different-from-one-another-but-both-killer-in-their-own-way light. (“Poundcake” and “Runaround” from For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge actually still get my blood pumpin’.) But the Van Hagar albums have not aged very well, and Chickenfoot is certainly a total waste of resources. But, on the whole, I have nothing against Sammy Hagar.

Oh, yeah, except that he’s apparently crazy, and thinks he was abducted by aliens — multiple times. Mr. Not DLR tells MTV:

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It’s kinda common knowledge that Steel Panther is the best live show like ever. If you disagree, that means you haven’t seen their show or that you hate fun, equally odious offenses at this point. So, to approximate the Steel Panther concert rapture, just remember your most cherished, slamming, no-dip-in-momentum live experience, then augment it with hilariousness and toplessness and drugs and great hair and a flying guitar solo and celebrity guest bloopers. That’s Steel Panther live. It is a manifestation of heaven on earth.

The fun stuff is fun, but most importantly, Steel Panther is a musician’s band. It’s tightness that allows S’Panther to slay all those hair rock classics thereby transcending bad karaoke or wedding band hell. It’s harder than it looks. My most boner-bending Steel Panther gig opened with “Panama” (smack in singer Michael Starr’s DLR wheelhouse) and “Up All Night” (goosebumps) and then “Shout At The Devil” (suck it, Vince Neil), but it’s with great sadness that I report that I’ve never seen them make fuck to Whitesnake’s titanic jam “Still of the Night” (above). Lexxi Foxxx owns!

–ADF

Tomorrow sees the release of Crowbar’s new album, Sever the Wicked Hand, on eOne (you can pre-order a physical copy here or a digital copy here, and watch an EPK for the album here). To celebrate, Crowbar main man Kirk Windstein offered to tell MetalSucks readers fifteen things they did not already know about him. And far be it from us to say “no” to Kirk Windstein! And so, enjoy a rare intimate look into the mind of Kirk Windstein, directly from the man himself…

15) I’m addicted to diet soda and sparkling water! I’m always drinking one or the other.

14) I like to wake up no later than 7:00 a.m.

13) I love Journey.

12) My first arena concert was Van Halen, “The 80′s Invasion,” on the Women and Children First tour.

11) Ace Frehley is the reason I play guitar.

Ten more things you didn’t know about Kirk after the jump!

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One my least popular observations is that Eddie Van Halen’s progress as a guitar soloist was temporarily stunted by the wave of gooey acclaim that soaked him as early as 1978. Until the 1984 album, the newly 56-year old axeman seemed more focussed on wizardry and novel tricks than on crafting memorable solo passages, notwithstanding “Somebody Get Me A Doctor.” His skillz were always bonkers, but apparently good judgement arrived with the keyboards; that’s when he proceeded to rail off beautious leads to equal his unmatched chord choices and phrasing. Then came F.U.C.K., Balance, the departure of Sammy Hagar, the whole Gary Cherone thing, dementia, divorce, marriage, a reconciliation with singer David Lee Roth, a deconciliation with bassist Michael Anthony, the enlistment of Wolfgang “FD-D” Van Halen, and finally Thursday, the happiest day of my adult life thanks to producer John Shanks’ twitter:

Here we go kids … VH.

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Yesterday, Sergeant D. posted a Metal Edition of the classic parlor game Marry, Fuck, or Kill, and you guys responded, uh, enthusiastically, surprising no one. And because we’re equal opportunity offenders — don’t forget that this is the site which posts leaked naked pictures of women and men alike — we decided that today we should post a metal d00dz edition.

So we sat down with the Mansion’s resident feminist, Leyla Ford, and presented her with some hot metal d00dz for a new game of MFK. Check out the results after the jump…

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Holy shit, where was this chick when Halford left Priest? I’m pretty certain that if the band had heard her, they would have been all, “‘Ripper’ who?”

Now, I know that if you’re an aspiring vocalist, you probably just heard this and went, “Oh, shit, I will never be as good as this girl. I’m just gonna quit.” But, really, you should look to her as an inspiration, not a deterrent. Because she didn’t get where she is today on raw talent alone; the video above is the result of lots and lots of practice and hard work. To wit:

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Big ups to our number one homegirl Allyson B. Crawford at Bring Back Glam! just made a pretty funny discovery:

“I was on YouTube, listening to Killswitch Engage when I thought “The End of Heartache” sounds awfully familiar. Then, it hit me like a ton of bricks:’Panama!’

“….I mean, the more I listened to ‘The End of Heartache’ the more obsessed I became. I’m convinced the root of the song – the main riff basically – is the key hook from ‘Panama’ just in a lower octave.”

I didn’t even have to listen to the two guitar parts in question side-by-side to know that Allyson is correct; as soon as I read her article, I knew exactly what she meant. It’s not a straight-up rip-off, ’cause it’s just a little piece of each song — in fact, I could see the KSE dudes not even realizing that they’d “borrowed” the riff — but this is still pretty funny/interesting/whatever.

Compare the two songs and read the rest of Ms. Crawford’s analysis at Bring Back Glam!

-AR

Kevin Dubrow is dead, and I think that most of us assumed he would take Quiet Riot (the seventh most-often-miscategorized-as-a-hair-metal-band of all time) with him to the grave. Those of us who did make that assumption, however, forgot that desperate times call for desperate measures, and an empty belly holds no room for dignity.

So Quiet Riot are re-forming.

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Eddie Van Halen rage stories are pretty legendary, but I’d thought that Mr. EVH had calmed down in recent years. Not so according to Shinedown singer Brent Smith, who toured with Van Hagar in 2004 and became chummy with the OG shredder before a little backstage incident set him off and re-ignited the raging dickitude of old. Good to know that the old man’s still got some vinegar (and piss) in ‘im.

The clip comes from MTV’s new self-described “dude blog” called Clutch in which the goal I suppose is to be a modern-day online Maxim full of stories about hot chicks, sports, and other silly dudebro shit. Like Shinedown or hate ‘em (I happen to love ‘em!), Brent Smith does an excellent job telling the story. I won’t ruin it for you.

-VN

The internet is cool, but I’m totally relieved that it was invented after my teen years. I spent those years trashing all bands disrespectful enough to not copy Van Halen (then Metallica, then Carcass), so it’s awesome that my half-baked opinions didn’t appear online for all to see, say, in the comments section of some virtual argue-dome for uptight virginal nerds. But no, only a handful of people heard my most misguided, sexual angst-driven opinions. That’s a small victory.

So, for example, I’m super-glad there’s no proof that I instantly and angrily dissed the few oddball bands that Headbangers Ball would try to slip in among the Testament and Slaughter. No one can prove, per se, that at first I was really offended by Faith No More and their irreverent treatment of heavy music (Rap? Black Sabbath cover? Bright colors?). I might’ve also taken a firm and retarded stand against last-video-of-the-night types like Masters of Reality and King’s X. Oh, and I positively wiped my ass with Mordred. Okay, I was right about that last one.

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