r :{{.,,.}i.7 r"; ,7:. jaa ",";7 f;}c:~:w: rY :"!+ ?# :" ;":r' a.. .x " " A;i ' ..' ; :~ , :\ ,.; ."; ;;K$:i";::t::},".;"}:: The Michigan Daily-Wednesday, May 21 1980-Page 9 Vi;."t "t:>" ,. ':i.: ':, . , The heavy metal meltdown Women and Children First Van Halen Warner HS343 By DENNIS HARVEY One look at the cover art for Van Halen's new disc, the politely titled Women and Children First, and it's ob- vious that these guys mean business. Like, they're not wimps, man. On the front, the four group members are sprawled about in orgasmic ecstacy, . playing with their favorite instrument. Shame on your filthy mind, it's just a guitar. On the back cover, each member af- fects his own unique stance. Lead singer David Lee Roth is gesticulating hard, probably begging for his daily ration of raw meat, with his ever- present take-me expression-does this guy ever shut his mouth, or are the con- stantly pursed lips an important part of that subite VH sexual mystique? Lead guitarist Alex Van Halen has apparen- tly discovered that coming up with an expression demands some measure of intelligence, and seems to have given up the struggle. Drummer Edward Van Halen, however, comes up with the really neat idea of pointing en- thusiastically at us. If there were an appropriate comic-strip balloon above his head, it might read something clever like, "YEAH! BOOGIE! HEY!" But the real proof that these men (golly, I wouldn't want to get caught calling them "boys"!) are sooo tough is basist Michael Anthony. Is he really smoking marijuana? A "doobie"? A "joint"? Catch me before I faint. WHO ARE THESE clowns? Are they examples of teen-age brain damage? Is this what happens when you spend too many hours listening to Black Sabbath at an impressionable age? Alas, with their third album of screeching jams, Van Hale.. confirms that they're nothing quite so interesting as any of that. They're another Kiss for a new audience of psuedo-delinquents, just as cartoonish and monotonous, and perhaps even a little dumber in their appeal-if Casablanca had had the chance to market them, they might have been named Slobber, or Blow Job. As any self-worshipping beery macho men would, they innocently believe that the majority of the female population woild die for the chance to throw them- selves at the muscular mercy of such he-men. There's something almost inanely charming about a group so overjoyed about their own grunt-and- groan idiocy. Yes, they're really ob- noxious, but clownish enough to be amusing from a comfortable distance. Women and Children First has been produced by Ted Templeman with his usual brisk efficiency. The sound is the usual VH sonic din, but it's a lot tighter and passably more entertaining than it was on their laborious second album. Templeman makes Good Product-not necessarily good music, but digestible commercial stuff-and cuts such as "And the Cradle Will Rock .. ." and the representatively titled "Everybody Wants Some!!" are quite tolerable, such as they are. They don't make you want to dance, exactly, but you may start to churn a little to the thick, heavy drone. OF COURSE, the album does take the standard we-gonna-GET-DOWN-and- we-gonn.4-BOOGIE-since-we-are-just- so-COOL stupidity to new and wondrous extremes. Singer Roth indulges in his usual, frequent trademark shrieks, which sound eerily like the noise one might emit if brusquely kicked ina par- ticularly unfortunate place, or like the yelp of a puppy whose tail has been stepped on. The guitars wail, the mix squeals, and songs like "In asSimple Rhyme" just sink into the din, hopefully never to emerge again. When VH does sonic distortion a la "Revolution No. 9" at the beginning of "Tora! Tora!" (cruising around and making out takes on the significance of a world war for these people), you may feel as though you've been shoved into the midst of a grade-D motorcycle flick-it's all v-- rrooms and squeals. One suspects that the group would just love to do their stage act in loin cloths if Ted Nugent (another active participant in the Male Supremacy Sweepstakes) hadn't already beaten them to it. Some of the nonsense on this album could pass asa parody of juvenile dum- bness, like Roth's scintillating come-on to his chickadee on one song: "Ah've always liked those kinda high heels ... Yeah, that's it ... a little more to the right." This is just too brainless to be offensive; Van Halen doesn't have the smarts to be smug about their sexual conquering-hero image, the way the Knack is. The single exception from the generally inane noise level is "Could This Be Magic?," a passably amusing piece of carbon-copy Allmann Bros.- like Southern slide guitar work, with lyrics like "you got wimmens on yer mind." Admittedly, these blow-dried blowhards do have a few good riffs up their sleeve. Well, at least one or two. As an added bonus (or laugh) for those who get all tingly listening to the group's wittily suggestive lyrics and muscle-of-love sound, the album in- cludes a very large (sorry, girls, not quite life-size) poster of singer Roth by none other than that master of chic S-M photography, Helmut Newton. In glorious black-and-white, Roth expands his take-me image to mind-boggling lengths. Wearing black leather pants (and lots of rolled-up Kleenex, no doubt) and tough boots, baring his hairy chest (and armpits, unfor- tunately) and spreading his legs for some purpose other than exercise, he is chained prettily to a metal fence by his hands-mouth open, of course. (He doesn't appear to be salivating rabidly, but you never can tell.) Gee, this may be the most exciting thing to happen to a lot of record buyers since David Cassidy posed almost-nude for Rolling Stone. Women and Children First has been released just in time for everyone to play it while cruising down the main drag as they swill their 13th beer. Perhaps, somewhere around the eight- beer mark, even Van Halen begins to sound good. Progressions of Power Triumph RCA Afl1-3524 By TIMOTHY YAGLE Triumph is like a three-man Van Halen with less emphasis on the bass guitar. Each band plays loud, sledgehammer rock and roll and alot of it. The essential problem for this in- dustrial strength rock trio from Toronto is that while some of their material can pass for good, hard driving rock, too much of it is irritatingly repetitive. From song to song, on their new album, Progressions of Power, it sounds as if guitarist Rik Emmett, who is the main- stay and focal point of the band, is playing only slight chord mutations from previous songs.,. Triumph, now three albums old and on a grueling 100-city promotional U.S. tour, has all the necessary energy a power-rock band needs. It comes through both on vinyl and in live per- formances. They turn up the amps, trot out the flashing lights, explosions and flashy pods and commence to partying down, barely giving one a chance to breath. Emmett and drummer Gil Moore handle the vocal chores while trying to keep their audience as lively as possible. BUT THEIR amateurism also peers through the transparent curtain of professionalism. While these guys are a pretty hot act for our neighbors to the- north, and have been for a few years, one gets the impression that too much showmanship and not enough musical prowess comes through. The perimeter of the stage, as well as the amps and drum platform are surrounded by white light bulbs. They use strobe lights, explosions and flame throwers at various times in their set. And their name screams out at you in bold capital letters behind the stage. All any of this does is distract the audien- See HEAVY, Page 10 WIN4AT'S thE VLTIMATE 4 LE-rrEi WORD RT 7THE MOVM T14AT MAKES YOU /Lt'Sl4 BEFORE L6AVINt1 7 Om ov6 SOON T A T/fTA M EAR YO& s1980 BRIGHTON PRODUCTIONS. INC.