You can make fun of Diamond Dave all you want, but the line “Gimme a glazed doughnut and a bottle of anything” is just as good as any of that macho bullshit Hemingway squirted out of his six-toed cock.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: david lee roth
People get awful cranky when I advocate suicide, but what’s the alternative? This?
Bonus points:
- Dragon embroidery.
- Ian “White Shoes” Hunter, y’all.
- The proper lace-up crotch.
- Good, good, good hair day.
- The old-school TWA carry-on bag in the background.
Debits:
- Where’s the salad, braj?
- Man wears a pair of skin-tight leathers, there should be some tater salad.
Bonus points:
- That breeze is treating Dave’s do just right.
- Is that Sonny Bono’s face painted on the gas tank?
Debits:
- Jean-cut don’t make it, Dave; leathers shouldn’t be baggy.
- That bike is tackier than sailing into the wind.
Who ya got, Enthusiasts?
AAAAAAH! GHOST PANTS!
“Stop that.”
Who said that? I see only a set of legs in a pair of ludicrous trousers and overpriced trotters.
“We get it. The jacket’s camouflage.”
See what I did?
“Yeah.”
Although see ing as how you’re in the Hollywood Hills, wouldn’t it be better camouflage if your coat had a picture of Laura Dern’s house on it?
“She lives right up the street.”
Under-appreciated talent.
“Banged her.”
Nice. So that’s the Nomad 3L from Visvim, right?
“Oh my God, yes! I never thought you’d start showing some interest in my–”
CELL PHONE NOISE
“–collection of…you’re a prick.”
Yes.
“Is it Nixon?”
No.
“Kim Jung-Un?”
Nope.
“Am I gonna enjoy this conversation?”
Maybe at first.
“Prick.”
…
“You’re on with J–”
“Baby sweetie honey this is your old friend and confidant Diamond DAAAAAAAVE comin’ atcha live and in person dispersin’ ALLLLLL the hits and good-time groovinary hijinks and grabass that you’ve come to demand from the brand. David Lee Roth: Accept no substitutes, especially if they’re named Sammy Hagar, HAHAHAHAHA!”
“Man, I wish you called me when I was 16. I don’t know if 45-year-old me has enough energy for you.”
“Want some coke?”
“No, I–”
“You got any? I got some, but some turns into none real fast when Diamond Dave’s in the house.”
“No coke.”
“More for DAAAAAVE!”
“Do you always refer to yourself in the third person?”
“Little trick Ricky Henderson taught me! Now, Joshy Boy, you strap on a chair and tell your ol’ Uncle Dave what’s happening with the computers. I was on a visionquest with two Mayan rock climbers I know from Piscataway and Miss March 1984 when I was informed the computers were talking about me.”
“Quick question: Do you know what Twitter is?”
“Sure, that’s what the guys in AC/DC call cocaine.”
“I’m not even gonna try to explain social media to you. What happened was that a 17-year-old didn’t know who you were.”
“Chick?”
“A young woman.”
“How the yobbos?”
“She’s 17.”
“Yeah, I gotta get in there quick before she wears out.”
“I’m not discussing this any more. What’s with the Confederate flags?”
“It’s a party, man.”
“Not when I am.”
“When are you?”
“The future.”
“Well, shit. Can’t fuck teenagers, can’t fly the Rebel flag. Future sounds like it’s full of pussies.”
“Yes and no.”
“DOObie!”
Yeah, Dave.
“Let’s SMOOOOOKE one!”
I promised the nice people no more Van Halen. Stop making me a liar.
“Talking about marijuana is talking about the Dead.”
…
Yeah, kinda. Still, though.
“DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE!”
Oh, shut up.
There will come a day
And youth will pass away
What will they say about me?When the end comes I know
I was just a gigolo
Life goes on without me
We all eulogize ourselves, don’t we, and we never know we’re doing it, do we?
Hey, Eddie. Whatcha doing?
“I’m not part of your bullshit. Don’t talk to me.”
But I’m a fan.
“Who isn’t? Fuck off.”
Your outfit is a little matchy-matchy.
“Fuck off!”
Well, who can I talk to?
“DAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE!”
Shit.
Hey, Dave.
“I’ll talk to you!”
You’ll talk to anyone.
“Let’s do cocaine kaRATE!”
That’s not a thing.
“You got a girlfriend?”
No.
“Get one, so I can fuck her!”
I can see why they keep firing you.
“Hello, Whatever City I’m In!”
You’re backstage, Dave.
“WOO!”
C’mon, Dave. Gimme a break.
People goof on David Lee Roth like it’s his fault he didn’t die in a car crash in 1982. Hipsters would be wearing tee-shirts with his face (and torso) on it today if he had, but Diamond Dave got old and weird; told all his jokes twice; lost his voice, hair.
But he had a voice: listen to this isolated track from Runnin’ With The Devil, especially when he screams at 1:20. Go listen. I’ll wait.
…
I remember having a disagreement with my 8th grade music teacher, Mrs. Ising. She said that the human throat could not produce two notes at the same time, and she was a tall lady who had perfect pitch (and enjoyed telling you about it) so I probably lost the argument. I did not know about the Tuvan throat singers at the time, or any number of non-Western traditions wherein people harmonize with themselves, but I did have every Van Halen record ever made–and two prized bootleg cassettes of their unreleased early demos–so I knew that David Lee Roth could hit both a head note and its overtone at the same time.
Now, I didn’t know those terms at the time. I did know that Dave looked like this:
And I figured that counted for something.
Oh, don’t do what you’re about to do.
I hereby call upon the Rock Nerds to critical reexamine David Lee Roth.
No one needs that.
And Rick Rubin needs to produce an album for him.
Please, God, no.
Call Pitchfork. This should be a longread. What is Jonathan Safran Foer doing?
Congratulating himself.
What about Jonathan Lethem?
Congratulating Jonathan Safran Foer.
What about Jonathan Marquand?
You made him up.
He’ll work cheap.
…
Are we really doing Thoughts on Van Halen?
It’s come to this.
- “Glabble!”
- “HeeeeeeeeyYAAAAAAH!”
- “MoninamoninaWOO!”
- “PROUSTIAN SUB-RHETORIC!”
- “Mibblety pibblety hump hump hump!”
- “I GOOOOOO in the STOOOOORE to buy bananas SO FRESH!”
- “GoddammitbabyyouknowIaintlyingtoyouyouknowimmaonlygonnatellyouonetiiiiiiiiiiiimeeee eeeeeyyyaahhhhhwwww!”
- “WOLFGANG!”
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