It must have been the MTV connection that helped it or something, but in my August 1982 issue of Creem Magazine I read an album review for Diver Down which summed up my feelings exactly. Sadly, today I would LOVE to get a album from VH (with DLR), period. So slip back in time 29 years and read the review and enjoy…
Album review for Diver Down August 1982 issue of Creem Magazine:
“Not only is this album an insult to the average consumer who will have to pay upwards of ten dollars for it, it is an exceptionally vicious kick in the teeth to Van Halen fans everywhere; fans who – by buying their albums, attending their concerts, and wearing their merchandise – have made David Lee Roth, Alex Van Halen, Eddie Van Halen and Michael Anthony millionaires. And because I paid hard-earned money for my copy of Diver Down, I have a personal stake in the matter: I have been burned by Van Halen, and I don’t like it.
From start to finish, this album lasts less than half an hour – and if you don’t believe me, you can count up the label times and arrive at the shameful figure of 29:07 yourself. This is a disgrace. In an era where the technology exists to make it feasible for someone like Todd Rundgren to release a single album of original material which lasts over an hour (Initiation: 68:11), there is absolutely no excuse for this kind of showing. None.
And although there are twelve tracks on Diver Down, five of them are cover versions (one lasting a mere 1:39) and three of them are guitar instrumentals (none of which is long enough to synchronize a watch by), leaving but four original songs by the band.
Of the covers, the above-noted 1:39 version of ‘Happy Trails’ is the kind of self-indulgent filler that only reinforces my anger at Van Halen for taking advantage of their audience – and if you think that they would’ve gotten away with something like this on their first album, think again. And a note to historians who would like to point out ‘Mother’s Lament’ on Disraeli Gears: Don’t bother, it ain’t 1967 anymore.
‘Dancing in the Streets,’ ‘Where Have All the Good Times Gone!’ and ‘Pretty Woman’ are so close to the original versions as to be superfluous carbon copies. Unlike their reworking of ‘You Really Got Me,’ which exuded sonic flash and style, these three remakes are there…and nothing more.
‘Big Bad Bill (Is Sweet William Now)’ is the kind of campy period piece that people like to crucify Freddie Mercury for, but when Freddie has written original material in a similar vein (‘Seaside Rendezvous,’ ‘Dreamer’s Ball’), the results have been at least tasteful, with none of the cheap vulgarities encountered here (to say that it’s no ‘Take Your Whiskey Home’ is an understatement).
Instrumental-wise, we’re talking filler again. ‘Intruder’ is a pale, pale imitation of the more successful ‘Sunday Afternoon in the Park’ and the pyrotechnics which made Eddie the Creem guitarist of the year in 1981 are nowhere in sight (or sound).
As for the originals, all four songs are lame, banal exercises that don’t even rock ‘n’ roll all that much, except for” Hang ‘Em High,” which is the closest thing to “classic” Van Halen on this album in terms of sheer train-out-of–control, collision-course rock ‘n’ roll.
Everything you loved on Women and Children First and Fair Warning are missing from Diver Down: the cheap asides from Roth, the glorious stereo guitar sonics, the well-crafted lyrics (yeah, well, compared to Diver Down, anything – including an air-raid siren – would have well-crafted lyrics) and, especially, the solid hooks which permeated almost every track.
Just when Van Halen needed to come back with a killer album to cement their status in the marketplace as the current rock ‘n’ roll kings, they had to go and pull a stunt like this. Diver Down is as bad a career move as I’ve ever seen – so much so that if these guys are featured in this magazine in two year’s time, I’ll be surprised. And don’t laugh: if it happened to Aerosmith, it could happen to these bozos, too.” Bruce Malamut
