Van Halen
1984

THE REVIEW

There are albums that deserve to be considered (not only) for their intrinsic value as a record, but for their quality as real "time machines." Small devices that we activate with a simple play and that just as easily can realistically make us relive an era, a historical period, those colors better than a documentary or a school book.

"1984" by Van Halen is one of these, and the title already says a lot. David Lee Roth's band and company reached this sixth album after six years of electrifying, courageous work, in which they managed to stay at the forefront thanks to performances full of vitality, freshness, and a rampant irony often clashing with the grave and tormented atmosphere that prevailed during the golden age of NWOBHM ("New Wave Of British Heavy Metal") and the nascent thrash-metal. Indeed, the Van Halen brothers' creation, the prodigious Dutchmen guitarist (Eddie) and drummer (Alex), fits into the heavy metal category only with many concessions. If nothing else, they represent an anomalous side of it. Driven by the pyrotechnic virtuosity of one of the most innovative guitar-heroes in the instrument's history and a rhythm section that is heavy yet very sharp, sprightly, and never redundant, since their unmatched debut ("Van Halen", 1978) they have become champions of a hard rock indebted to the tradition of the giants of the '70s as much as a herald of a groundbreaking new sound, hard but not necessarily violent or "dangerous." Much credit for the original path inaugurated by the band goes largely to the choice of an incredible front-man like Lee Roth, the "Diamond Dave" who drives audiences crazy with his extraordinarily athletic and energetic performances, making his voice (not powerful but very adaptable to any register) and his prima donna showmanship his winning weapon. Van Halen made an unexpected turn when, after years of skepticism toward drastic changes in sound, the band allowed Eddie the green light for his requests for electronic experimentation on the pieces. And so, the synthesizer was infused into heavy metal. What at the time might have seemed like an ultimately reversible or irrelevant choice became one of the main revolutions of the decade. Van Halen surprisingly updated their sound, placing themselves now more than ever a step above colleagues and rivals.

It was January 1984, the group's pop approval index was already sky-high after Eddie's cameo in the mega-hit of the previous year by Michael Jackson, "Beat It," and releasing an album titled 1984 was all part of the plan. It was an important title, meaning to ambitiously position themselves as "the definitive group of the era," outside of a restrictive genre: it was a challenge to the mainstream, to the various Toto, Police, and others who dominated the charts, gathering an audience from every age group, regardless of individual musical preferences. From the intro titled "1984," the group immediately shows us their aces, with a suggestive beginning of ethereal and majestic electronics, leading directly to the opener of the work, that ever-green success "Jump," which we should remember more for the pop breach it opened in the hearts of less accustomed metal kids than for its ultimately modest qualitative value. With the explosive, yet still very radio-friendly "Panama," another big hit of the time, Van Halen makes an excellent move. It's the move that leads to the success of this album: they abandon the keyboards, content with having given us an important taste of their new frontiers, and wisely decide to return to their old style, granite rock anthems forged by admirable technical inventions, by a joy of playing together, showing that they are better than before, or—better yet—more confident, aware. The validity of "1984" lies in this, in the maturity achieved by a group that can allow itself anything without making mistakes. In the wisdom of offering something for everyone, innovation and tradition, spread out at their own pleasure over the course of a compact album, highly arranged and curious in every detail, from the playful half-minute drum solos and the out-of-sync laughter of the unlikely teacher in "Hot For The Teacher," to the wonderful electronic arpeggios of "I'll Wait," up to the grand finale of the furious "House Of Pain," a remarkable foreseeing of what the future arena-rock by Guns 'N' Roses, Motley Crue, and their epigones will be. Yes, because "1984," if it doesn't have the immortal beauty of "Van Halen" or the crystal-clear purity of "Women And Children First" is still an act of love towards creativity, the admirable effort to renew itself, maybe stumbling, making mistakes but with full confidence in one's own abilities and those of one's companions. It's what it had to be at that moment, a perfect bridge between the seasons of hard rock from "Back In Black" and that of "Appetite For Destruction". And after all, that diabolical little angel on the cover who carelessly smokes a cigarette to our health might just be the grandfather of the aquatic newborn from "Nevermind". But it's not up to us to fantasize. History is a fascinating cycle, and "1984" is a small piece of it to remember, to think about what was, what will not return but is right not to forget.