POP MUSIC REVIEWS : Van Halen Show One Big Party

Boy, talk about a Sammy Hagar weekend! Van Halen launched into the penultimate show of its world tour at the Pacific Amphitheatre on Friday with all the insouciant gusto one might expect of such a homecoming. Singer Hagar was only affirming the obvious when, a few songs into the show, he told the near-capacity crowd that the antic, L.A.-based quartet had already been partying for hours with friends backstage.

He and the band seemed more than willing to carry that celebratory mood to their audience, which didn’t need much prodding in that direction. Observing the crowd, which at the time was engulfed in a formidable cloud of pot smoke, Hagar declared, “We’re gonna be up here so (expletive) long, you’re gonna forget you had that hit!”

The show didn’t actually set any endurance records, but when the smoke cleared, the band had reasserted its unique status as the Mozart of kegger bands. For all the party-hardy ethos and numskull histrionics that go into its show, Van Halen also performs with a rampaging musicianship, applied to songs that have some compositionally challenging stuff hidden within their corporate-rock crust.

Led by guitarist Eddie Van Halen’s volcanic virtuosity, all but the most mainstream offerings in the show were lifted by his odd chord structures and skewed riffs, which--like the ones Jimmy Page once excelled at--can be oddly rhythmed and illogically chopped-up yet still rock like crazy.

His unaccompanied solo spot, “316,” overflowed with the prodigious chops he introduced 15 years ago, seeming to mix elephant trumpetings, Bach inventions, the labyrinthine logic of guitar mentor Allan Holdsworth, and Pete Townshend’s killer riff from “Young Man Blues.” There wasn’t much that one could call coherent , but it was engaging fun up to a point.

When devoted to ensemble playing, all the band members’ playing proved tight, yet light-footed enough to be responsive to each other. The group clearly was having fun playing, bringing a warmth and camaraderie to the performance. With untold thousands of Watts pumping out their sound, they were still a juggernaut, but they were a friendly juggernaut.

Former Motley Crue singer Vince Neil’s opening set was a dull reminder of why Van Halen remains so far ahead of the pop-metal pack. Neil’s performance was a plodding, characterless affair, as predictable as the “How ya doin’ L.A.!” shouts he uttered with numbing regularity.