They said it couldn't happen, shouldn't happen. Diamond Dave had
become a half-carat has-been. Fast Eddie had bottomed out from hard
living. But more than that, these iconic head cases despised each
other, a scrum of pride that turned rock's most ephemerally ferocious
band into a cautionary tale (at best), a punch line (that's more like
it).

But if air-guitaring is believing, Van Halen's reunion
show at the St. Pete Times Forum Monday not only happened - it happened
with life-affirming vigor. If it wasn't VH's original 1978 lineup, it
was close enough to successfully tap into our adolescent aggression and
Friday-night fantasies.

In other words, this show didn't have
to be perfect for the 16,853 fans to adore every moment. After 22
years, people couldn't wait to feel that Van Halen love again.

Older,
wiser, but still just as rambunctious, there they were: frontman David
Lee Roth, 52; guitarist Eddie Van Halen, 53; drummer Alex Van Halen,
54; and bassist Wolfgang "Wolfie" Van Halen, Eddie's 16-year-old son,
replacing original member Michael Anthony, who remains aligned with
Sammy Hagar, the man who joined the broken band after Roth went solo in
the mid '80s.

But bygones were bygones - or at least it looked
that way. "I heard you missed us! We're baaaaack!" hollered Roth,
dressed as a randy circus ringmaster, waving a giant red flag and still
infused with more ham than a pork farm. When Dave and Eddie shared a
no-hard-feelings hug, the ensuing roar was deafening, and it hurt so
good.

[AP file photo]

The beloved quartet kicked off the 21/2-hour show with
three ferocious cuts from '78's self-titled debut, songs that redefined
hard rock, connecting the crunchy sound of the '70s with the showboat
glitz of the '80s: You Really Got Me, I'm the One, and Runnin' With the Devil.
Standing proud on a walkway high above the band, Wolfie plucked out the
menacing bass line of the latter -- thunk, thunk, thunk -- instantly
burying any cries of nepotism from the crowd.

It took
approximately zero seconds for Eddie to 1) lose his shirt and 2) remind
us why he's considered one of if not THE most revolutionary guitarist
in history. The IMAX screen behind the two-tiered stage offered plenty
of up-close shots of the Dutch wonder's revolutionary "tapping" style,
which generated a dizzying melange of delicious swirls and pops.

Oh,
yeah, Fast Eddie -- who's had cancer, a hip replacement, and a lotta bad
news in his life -- is still a mind-blowing craftsman, blending
gut-check riffs with Mozartian grandeur, making that sucker speak a
language that is anything but guitar talk. He plays over songs, under
grooves, making the noise of five men. Even when he took a power drill
to his strings during his inevitable Eruption solo, Eddie and his furious fingers proved faster than that Black & Decker.

As
for good ol' Diamond Dave, who's equally ab-ripped, he grinned
throughout, launched a few flying kicks and referenced all areas below
his belt as if he were still the hottest stud in town. He was likable,
lovable even. But he was often just as frustrating, selling songs with
panache but dropping every other word, gargling a few others. He
occasionally paid little attention to the beat.

That said, I
sang along to every dang word, the same words I scribbled in my Trapper
Keeper two decades back. I pumped my fist throughout the highway-heat
of Everybody Wants Some!! in which Dave gave a foreplay-by-play: "Lose the dress, keep the shoes." I banged my head to the gnarly grit of Mean Street. I can't remember the last time I was so giddy for so long during stretches of a concert.

The
show's midpoint was a time-traveling marvel, a four-pronged arsenal of
classic VH goodness. After Alex Van Halen's tom-terrorizing drum solo,
the boys brought out the big guns. Unchained, I'll Wait, And the Cradle Will Rock and Hot for Teacher. Were they perfect renditions? Not even close. Was I sweaty and breathless after each one? Get me a towel, buddy.

Van
Halen gamboled on, sticking to the gems on their first six discs, not a
"Van Hagar" song to be heard. But staying loyal to the good old days
worked just fine, as the first set closed with Jamie's Cryin', Ice Cream Man, Panama and Ain't Talkin' Bout Love.

You knew what was coming in the encore: the anthemic Jump
from 1984. With the keyboards crashing and Eddie picking and Diamond
Dave unleashing one more karate swat, it didn't feel exactly like the
good ol' days. But for one night, it sure felt close enough.