Peter Wolf book includes a chapter on VH at Pinkpop Festival 1980

I just finished reading Peter Wolf’s new book, “Waiting On The Moon: Artists, Poets, Drifters, Grifters and Goddesses”. Peter was the frontman for the J. Geils Band. Chapter 28 – “Knows To Nose: Pinkpop Festival” had some interesting info regarding Van Halen’s appearance at the Pinkpop Festival in 1980. If you recall, this was right after Dave jumped and broke his nose on a disco ball while shooting a performance on Italian TV. Here’s an excerpt:

AFTER TEN YEARs, the Geils band was finally headlining arenas. It was the summer of 1980, and we were about to embark on a tour of the Midwest, when I received a phone call from our booking agent, Frank Barsalona. He was excited about a great opportunity for us. A popular up-and-coming rock group, Van Halen, was scheduled to headline the prestigious Pinkpop Festival in the Netherlands. I was friendly with their lead guitar virtuoso, Eddie Van Halen, and I was pleased that his namesake band was shooting up the charts. This festival was the perfect venue for them: Eddie and his brother Alex’s Dutch heritage and the fact that this was to be their first-ever performance in Holland was exciting for native fans and press alike. However, their lead singer, David Lee Roth, had apparently broken his nose and needed surgery, forcing them to cancel their performance.

Our agent was thrilled that the promoters suggested us as the replacement headliner for the festival. Pinkpop took place every year and involved around ten groups, an eclectic and unpredictable lineup. This diversity made it an important event to play and an even more important event to headline.

I traveled on ahead of the band, stopping off to do advance press in London, where I was informed upon arrival that Van Halen would be able to play the festival after all. According to their manager, Roth’s father was in the medical field and was able to get David back on his feet pretty fast. There was, however, a new twist: Van Halen didn’t want to headline but instead wanted to play in the slot just before us. At this point in their career, it was a known fact that their strategy was to play the underdog in an attempt to steal the thunder away from any band that played after them. They were confident in their ability to undermine the headliner, thereby hoping to gain a greater following.

I wasn’t worried. We were a damn good live band and could hold our own. Working our way up, we’d opened for many great artists: the Stones, the Who, the Faces, Janis Joplin, and B.B. King, to name but a few. When Geils headlined, we tried to be supportive of the opening acts, knowing that if they connected with our audience, one day they, too, might be headliners. This proved to be the case with U2, Tom Petty, Billy Joel, Bonnie Raitt, Iggy Pop, and the Eagles, among others.

London has always been one of my favorite cities, and I was glad to make a stop there en route to Amsterdam, not only to meet the press and our European record companies but also to patronize English pubs.

[Peter has a run-in with some tough dudes in Camden who beat him up pretty badly and ironically, end up breaking his nose]

####

I don’t remember the drive back to the hotel, but thank God the people at the hospital gave me a nice supply of painkillers…When I finally looked in the mirror, I saw a black-and-blue shiner as big as a doughnut. My entire face was puffy, and I had black stitches under my left eye.

I stretched out on the bed, woozy from the doctor’s injection, drifting in and out of sleep.

I can’t remember how I left London. I do remember waking up on a plane headed to Amsterdam. The doctor’s shot was wearing off. At the airport I was met by a promoter and his assistant who had been forewarned about my misadventures. I was walking with a limp. When I removed my sunglasses, the promoter flinched. Nervously, he asked, “Peter, are you sure you’re able to perform?”

I assured him, “If there’s a doctor who can give me a shot of something for the pain, I should be okay. Whatever happens, we’re not going to cancel.”

The night before the show, I had a hard time sleeping, so in the morning I headed down to the concert site early. When I arrived, bands were going through sound checks. I spotted our road crew on the far side of the stage and joined them. Everyone knew what had happened, and it was a comfort to be among friends again. UB40 ran through a few songs, followed by the Jam. The sound check was wrapping up as four Mercedes limousines slowly pulled to the front of the stage area. Out jumped the favorite sons of the Netherlands, Van Halen. The band charged up the ramp, milling about, chatting with their crew, eagerly watched by the ever-present press. Surprisingly, their lead singer, David Lee Roth, had only a small Band-Aid across his nose. The promoter, who was standing next to him on the stage as he was jumping around, threw me a puzzled look. He asked David how he was feeling, to which he replied, “Oh, great, man! Can’t wait to get onstage tonight and rip up the place!*

David and the promoter walked toward me.

With all the enthusiasm of a used car salesman, David said, “Hey, man, great to see you, and thanks for stepping in when I broke my nose.”

“No problem,” I replied.

The promoter, as perplexed as I was, said, “Peter, take off your sunglasses.”

David’s eyes bulged in horror. “Holy shit, man! What the hell happened to you?” I had obvious battle wounds, while Roth was picture-perfect. We silently sized each other up. David and I were lead singers, each to varying degrees demanding, difficult, obsessive, paranoid, neurotic, and competitive.

Ironically, both he and I would end up being kicked out of our bands, but for very different reasons. Now there we stood, nose to bruised nose, trying to decide who was the wiser strategist.

The Geils band arrived from Boston later that afternoon. With my ever increasing intensity of pain, I don’t remember doing the sound check. But an hour before showtime, the promoter came backstage with one of the leading sports doctors in the country. His specialty was treating injured soccer players. After examining me carefully, he gave me three shots: one by the ribs, one near my cheek, and one in the arm.

By the time we were ready to hit the stage, I felt a euphoric glow coursing through my body. It seemed like I was floating. I was moving without any pain. In fact, my legs were zipping around the stage with unusual ferocity.

####

The following afternoon, we gathered in the lobby, awaiting the airport van. The promoters came to bid us farewell, carrying bundles of newspapers and big smiles on their faces. They translated the headlines for us. Our performance was well praised in the press, but they weren’t as kind to Van Halen.

Four Mercedes limos pulled up to the front of the hotel for Van Halen. Their crew came out of the elevator with Eddie Van Halen, who walked up to me and asked how I was feeling. He told me to call him the next time I was in LA: “There’s always room for you at the house.” Then David Lee Roth walked by, festooned with a bevy of Dutch maidens, enjoying every moment, with no Band-Aid to mar his perfect California tan.