Word-for-word with Alex Van Halen: the complete interview, August 9, 1995

By Steve Newton

I haven’t interviewed that many drummers over the years, mainly because when I cover a band I shoot for the guitarist, since that’s the instrument I’m most drawn to.

But after interviewing Alex Van Halen in advance of a Van Hagar show on the Balance tour, I should probably chat with the skin-bashers more often.

He was one of the most interesting and enlightening interview subjects I’ve come across in nearly 40 years of rock writing.

Who knew?

Hello, may I speak to Steve, please?

Yeah, that’s me.

Steve, this is Alex.

Hey Alex, how you doin’?

Good, how you doin’?

I’m pretty good. Where are you calling from?

I’m calling from Boston.

Oh, you playing there tonight?

Yeah.

Excellent.

Played here last night, and figured we’d do two.

Alright. Yeah, I’ve been a fan of the band since day one, so it’s nice to be able to finally have an interview.

Uh huh, great.

I’d like to start a little bit in the early days, Alex, and work up to the present day and the new album. First off, I was wondering what your earliest memories of playing with your brother, Eddie, are. Were you guys really young when you started jamming?

Yeah, you know, I think music is one of those things that it’s in your blood. I think even before we played an instrument we were drawn to the marches that my dad–my dad was in the Air Force band, and he would bring the records home. Part of the reason he was in the Air Force band was because he was a jazz player, and he couldn’t find work in Holland. You know, we lived in Holland and there was no place to find work. The big band era was over, and small jazz bands just couldn’t make a living to support a family of four.  So he went into the Air Force and joined the Air Force Band to bring home those records.

And Ed and I would sit there and march around the table just for hours on end, you know, and we kinda realized that music can be hypnotic–it can do all kinds of things to you, you know. It can change your perspective on time and all that. I mean that’s what I can remember.

We started playing piano when we were six years old and the idea was, I think my mom had this crazy idea that we should be concert pianists. So we did that for about 10 years. And of course in between, by the time I was about 11, I picked up the guitar and Ed had a drum set. And after about a week or two we decided to change, because I didn’t care for the guitar and Ed didn’t care for the drums. So that was that.

Yeah. After the military stuff, what sort of bands did you guys first try to emulate?

The first one was bands like the Ventures. Anything that you could play with guitar and drums, ’cause we didn’t have a bass player at the time, just Ed and I. We’d kind of be a novelty act. My dad would play clubs and we would just be kinda like a half-an-hour intermission, you know. It was great.

Who were your personal drum gods back then, or did you have any?

I think I really latched onto Ginger Baker. Ginger Baker and of course, well…hold on, I think I’m having a brain fart here… John Bonham, and Keith Moon. I was really into stylistic people; people who had a unique style that you could hear no matter what they did, is you could instantly recognize the way they played. Of course, technique was always important, but I preferred Louie Bellson to Buddy Rich. That was my personal preference. I preferred Philly Joe Jones to some of the other people.

But, you know, I think I always had an open mind. I mean, my dad used to tell me, “you should listen to everybody, ’cause you can always learn something.” But my first, the one whose style and feel and how he fit in with the band, who I liked, was Ginger Baker. He made music on his drums. You know, up until then, I think drums were more or less just there to keep time, and it didn’t really matter who the hell was back there.

Did you take any drum lessons yourself? Or did you just start banging away?

I took a couple lessons here and there, but I think for me it was just important to be in the middle of the energy, of playing music in front of people. And by the time I was 13, I was playing full-time with my dad’s jazz band in clubs around the L.A. area. And it taught me firsthand, you know, the power of music. You see people coming in, in a certain state of mind, you know, and by the time the evening’s over everything’s changed.

Granted, you know, I’m sure that the alcohol has something to do with it as well, but nonetheless, the whole atmosphere of being in a room and the energy level changing from one to another, it was very fascinating, and that to me is what music was all about. It’s not just the hit songs and the production and all that stuff, you know, it’s really the essence of what music is about. It’s really a one-on-one thing, because whether you’re playing for 10 people or whether you’re playing for a million people, you’re only playing for one person at a time, you know. And I learned that early on.

Was Eddie part of your dad’s jazz band?

Yeah, he came in from time to time. He played bass, ’cause the chord changes were too different from rock ‘n’ roll, and Ed was more into the rock ‘n’ roll thing. But, you know, to make a few bucks, “yeah, come on Ed, play bass.”

When did you first figure out that Eddie had the makings of a guitar legend?

It wasn’t difficult. You know, I had taken flamenco lessons and all that and I could play, I could read and all that, but there was no connection between me and the instrument. To me, it was just a piece of wood with metal strings, and if you put your fingers on it this way it makes this kind of sound, and if you put ’em this way it makes this kind of a chord.

But when Ed picked it up, just instantly, I mean he just connected with it. It was as if it was meant to be there all along, you know. Not only was he articulate and there was feeling. You know, it’s something you have to sense when you’re there. I’m trying my best to describe it in words, but, you know–a blind man could see it! [laughs].

I still remember the first time I heard Van Halen, when the first album came out. I was a child of the ’70s. Did you guys expect to make such a huge impression on the rock and roll masses?

I don’t know, it’s difficult to say, because while we were playing, the only two gauges that you have to go by, on whether what you do is any good, is the fact, number one, do you like it? Do you like it, and are you proud of what you did? And number two, of course, it’s easy, is do the people who you’re playing this for, like it? You know, it doesn’t take a genius either in that aspect.

And, you know, we played seven nights a week all over the L.A. club scene. And L.A, is, you know, it’s a very spread-out area. Los Angeles is not just the beach; it’s not the California that people think it is. There are a lot of industrial areas, there are a lot of Hispanic areas. There’s just all kinds of different places to play.

And we would go within I’d say about a hundred-mile radius of L.A. and play that area. That covers a lot of ground. So there was never a problem of finding a place to play. And we just found that no matter where we went, you know, there were people who liked what we did. So we got to the point where we decided we should just promote our own shows. We would rent a building that would fit about 5,000 people and, you know, out of our pocket we’d get some PA, and some lighting, and we’d pack the place. And this was in lieu of trying to approach record companies and forcing a tape down their throat, because rarely does that work. You know, I’ve seen how many tapes these people receive and it doesn’t work.

Yeah.

You’re better off trying to win the lottery, you know. And also at that time, punk rock was huge. And record companies didn’t want to have anything to do with the kinda music that we were making. So we figured, well, you know, we’ll just raise a stink our own way, and they can’t help but notice.

We’re very lucky, you know, [producer] Ted Templeman and [record executive] Mo Ostin from Warner Brothers came in and they saw us one night. We were playing somewhere in Hollywood. The name of the club was the Starwood. It’s not there anymore. We were playing there on the 99-cent beer night. It was a rainy Tuesday evening and, you know, you can get in and all the beer you can drink for 99 cents. And still there were only like 15 people in the joint.

Yeah, Hollywood was not our niche, but nonetheless you know, a musician, you play, it doesn’t matter, you go for it. And it just happened to be that Mo Austin and Ted Templeman were there. From there on, as they say, the rest was history.

I was wondering what your favourite album of the David Lee Roth period was, if you had one from then?

I think all of ’em. I can tell you the least favourite one really was Diver Down, and that’s only because there started to be a lot of conflict within the band. Roth had one idea: he wanted to do cover songs, because he wanted a hit single. And we wanted to play our music. I mean, Ed had so many songs that just, you know, were incredible. And I guess out of what you would call mutual respect, we decided, “well, if that’s really what you wanna do, then we’ll do that.”

But, you know, you can’t undo the past. It doesn’t really matter. All I know is that we did what we felt was the right thing to do. We put in 110%. Ed wrote, you know, Ed has always written the music, so it doesn’t really matter. I don’t dissect it into the Roth era and then the Sammy era, I really don’t.

Uh huh.

Because the essence and the core and the heart of this band is still the same. And I think when Sammy joined it, it finally became complete, as opposed to being Roth and a band–or that’s how he saw it anyway. But I think with Sammy it finally became complete. So, it just, I can’t describe what kind of energy there is, when you have four people making music, even though everybody has a different way of doing things, when it all comes together, that everybody’s happy with it. Anybody who’s in a band knows that feeling. That’s part of the reason why we do these things. [Laughs]. You know?

Were you aware of Sammy Hagar ever since the debut Montrose album?

Oh yeah. We used to play his stuff in the clubs.

Oh really?

Oh yeah, yeah. “Rock Candy”. What was the other one? “Make It Last.” Oh yeah.

It’s a classic album, that one. And did you follow his solo career after he left?

No, no. We ran into him a couple times, you know, when you do those summer stadium things, where they have like 150 bands on. Yeah, we met in the stadiums once in a while.

You know, it’s funny was before we went in the studio to record our first record, the powers that be, if you will, the people behind the scenes, really wanted to have Sammy come in and sing with the band. But it didn’t work out because Sammy already was established, and, you know, there is a business side to record companies. And I guess they felt let’s not take a shot on this thing because this Van Halen band hasn’t been proven and let’s not fuck with it.

I didn’t know that.

Yeah, well…

That’s interesting.

So I’m giving you a little dirt!

Thanks, man. How would say the band evolved musically since Sammy joined, since 5150?

I don’t think it’s a conscious thing. I think the idea as a musician is you always, you hope to grow because if you don’t–if you’re always looking back and trying to repeat what you did–it just kind of becomes like a smaller and smaller circle, you know, a smaller and smaller spiral. Before you know it, there’s nothing left.

I think, again, fortunately there are four different people in the band and we all have different tastes and different personas, you know, and it shows through our instrument. And that always keeps it fresh. I mean, music in part is the way that we as a band interpret what’s going on around us, you know, whether it’s musically and or lyrically.

So the idea, let’s face it, there is no nothing new under the sun, really. If you wanna stop and think about it, you’re not gonna reinvent an E chord. We’re still using the same basic tools that everybody else does, which is 12 notes in the scale–that’s counting all of ’em, you know. So I’ve heard people say there’s eight, well, there’s 12. One for each sign of the zodiac. Something like that.

A lot Vancouverites are probably wondering how you came to work with Vancouver’s Bruce Fairbairn, Alex.

Well, after we came back, let’s see… well after For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge, because we’re one of the few bands I think that actually do read fan mail, so many people had been asking for a live record. It took us a while to put a live record together and to just make a long story short, it was about a two-and-a-half year tour from the release of For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge until we came back in the studio. Two-and-a-half years on the road. And we didn’t want to make For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge Part Two. You know, we were very concerned that if [producer] Andy [Johns] was involved that we would have that again. And besides that, Andy was busy.

So, you know, we don’t wanna produce ourselves. We were involved with it, but to take the actual helm, it’s a big mistake. You know, you need a fifth member of the band in that term, in that respect, because otherwise it would take forever. There’s gonna be nobody to really make decisions in certain areas, because most of ’em are creative decisions. And in creativity there is no right and wrong. There’s just opinion. Well, I have an opinion, and if you want my opinion I’ll give it to ya. [Laughs heartily] You know what I mean? I mean, the four of us are like that. I mean, you got four people sitting there beating the shit out of each other. And I’m kind of, you know, over-expressing it, but the fact is…

So we talked to about five or six different, quote unquote, “producers”. I think it’s important to keep in mind, the term producer is kind of vague. It can mean anywhere from a babysitter, to a cowriter, to a guy who plays almost all the instruments, to a psychiatrist. You know, it’s so vague, like I said.

Yeah. How’d you pick Bruce?

Well, after talking to about five or six different people, Bruce, you know, when he first walked in the room, we didn’t really discuss much of anything. One of the first things he asked is, “well, let’s hear the music.” And we said, “shit, what a novel idea!” You know, all these other people who came in had given us a list of their credits, and da-da-da, and how they thought of the old records. And, “oh yeah, I love this song.” You know, again, that’s, in concept, you keep hammering on the old stuff all you’re gonna do is repeat it. We don’t wanna repeat it, you know, at least not on purpose, you know, at least not, uh, not…

Not consciously.

Yeah, not consciously. So anyway, after Bruce said that, we said, “well shit, let’s go.” As it turned out, for a second, you know the bottom line is you really have to go by instinct; you have to go by your heart. Because when people come to talk to you about wanting to produce the record, the reality of it is, it is part a sales pitch. But there’s something about Bruce–he’s just a very warm human being. And of course, later on we found out, he is, he’s an incredible human being. You know, way beyond just his musical and production capability. He’s an incredible guy.

Yeah. Just about three more questions for you, Alex, I know you’ve got probably got lots of interviews to do. I was wondering how much input you have personally in the writing of the tunes?

Well, it depends. Some songs are just little spurts of ideas that Ed just will throw out. See, we spend a lot of time just dickin’ around in the studio. And some of the best times are when Ed isn’t even thinking and he’s just noodling around with it, and if I throw some kind of a drum thing to it, it just starts a fire, so to speak. it kinda spreads. But I don’t actually consciously sit down with a guitar and say, “okay, here check this out, do this, do that.” Because I don’t play guitar. About the only song I ever did have was a keyboard tune called “Feels So Good.” I just had that little piece on the keyboard.

But no, you know, again, it’s a chemistry and electricity that happens. One thing just fires up something else. There’s a reason why certain people work well together and others don’t. For us, it’s not a business. The reason you go in the studio is not to make a record. The reason is to go make music, and then while you’re making it, it’s gonna be recorded. Hey, and then at the end, okay, then it’s gonna be put together in a record.

Uh-huh.

You know, this may sound strange, but philosophically it’s a very different way of looking at it. That way you’re not sitting there going, “well we have 15 more days, we need two tunes and then we have our record.” You know, that to me is ridiculous! Of course, sometimes it can turn on you, because For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge took a year to record. But that’s just the way it was.

Yeah. It’s been almost two decades now for the band. And I was wondering how much longer do you expect Van Halen to continue rocking?

Well, like I said, I ain’t gonna look back. So the two decades really doesn’t mean much of anything.

Yeah, right.

I know today we’re gonna play, and today we’re gonna play really good, because last night we played great. So we better play better than that tonight. [Laughs].

How old are you now, Alex?

Somewhere between 30 and 150 [laughs heartily]. Let’s put it this way: I’m a helluva lot younger than Mick.

Just to finish off, Alex, I’m just wondering what’s the best thing about being in Van Halen?

I think the people we play for, I really do. We’ve said before, that we’re playing for 10,000 of our closest friends and all that, but I think it’s come to the point where it really is like that. We’ve done this thing with USA Harvest, where we collect food, or at least we ask the audience to bring some food. Our kudos go out to the audience because they’re the ones who are doing it, we’re just the catalyst. But so far we’ve collected over 850,000 pounds of food, and it just goes right back into the individual city. I don’t know if we’re gonna… I think Ray might…do you know Ray?

No.

Our manager?

No, I don’t, no.

Oh, fellow Canadian.

Oh really?

He manages Rush.

Oh, Rush? Right, okay.

Anyway, I think he’s trying to do something, I don’t know if the Harvest thing is in Canada. But anyway, it’s one of those periphery things, you know, that had we not been in this position we would’ve never been able to be part of it. And there is no, who did this, who did that, the fact is, all the volunteers and all these people who make this project work are feeding people. We’ve fed over about a million-and-a-half people so far. Yeah.

Good for you man; that’s great. Well, I’m looking forward to seeing you guys when you come up to Vancouver here on September 13th.

I’m looking forward to bein’ there, and I hope it’s sunny.

I think it will be.

Okay, can you call ahead? Just call the man upstairs, say, “excuse me, but can you spare a sunny day?”

Yeah. I’ll see what I can do, Alex.

Okay.

I really appreciate you giving me a really good interview.

All right, Steve, did you–I forgot, I should have asked you. Was this on tape or were you just jotting this down?

No, I’m taping.

Oh.

I guess I should have let you know first, eh? Sneaky guy.

I mean, it just dawned on me. I’m just fucking yakkin’ away here, and then just before you know, you’ve got two notes. “Alex said…” 

Well I appreciate it, man. It’s gonna be a good story. And maybe you’ll see a copy around the city and pick it up.

Okay, sounds good to me.

Thanks a lot, Alex.

Remember the name Scotty Ross, you know, and if you’re gonna come to the gate, just holler.

I’ll be there for sure. I’m doin’ the review.

Okay, well, he’ll set you up with whatever you need.

Scotty Ross, eh?

Yeah.

Okay. How do I get ahold of him?

How?

Yeah.

Through production, through the building.

Oh, okay, all rightie.

You know, whatever. If you happen to walk down the street anywhere near the facility and say, “where’s Scotty Ross?”, they’ll help you.

Oh, thanks Alex.

Yeah, he’s the everything.

Sounds good, maybe get back and have a beer with you or something?

Yeah? Good enough.

Thanks Alex.

Alright.

Have a good gig tonight and see you later.

Okay, thanks.

Okay, bye.

Bye.

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