A WORD FOR JOHN SYKES

RIP TO THE GUITAR TONE THAT DEFINED A COMMERCIAL ROCK COLOSSUS

Some guitarists take us home.

They might not be the ones we listen to the most, we might not even have played them for years – but they’ve been in our lives the longest, on those played-to-death records from formative teenage years. That kind of exposure doesn’t just vanish, no matter how cutting edge we think we are. It’s hardwired into the unconscious. Play that music again and the strength of connection hits hard, sometimes unexpectedly so. It takes you into yourself and, crucially, back to yourself.

Home.

And this is why the news of John Sykes passing away – cancer, age 65 – is hard to take.

1987 was an album I played the life out of as a 14 year-old. The ballads were tolerated (no skipping with the record/tape format) and the keyboards mostly stank but the monstrous stop-start attack of Still of the Night was, and still is, a hard rock thrill for all time. Same for Crying in the Rain and deep-cut favourite, Children of the Night. And the thing that made the best of that album sound the way it did – the speeding rhythmic riffing, the shred-melodic solos and incomparable guitar tone – was John Sykes. He WAS 1987. His sound defined it and mega millions got sold on the back of period piece (cough) videos he never appeared in. Sykes has an exalted place in 80s rock history.

Credibility-wise, Whitesnake get short shrift – no surprise. For me, they were an adolescent band of a moment, but that moment put John Sykes out there. When his Blue Murder debut came out in 1989, firing out all the best bits of 1987 and far fewer of the worst bits, that album got played to death too – until the 90s took hold and both records got ditched without sentimentality as hair rock relics.

Wrong move.

You can’t shake that stuff. Many years later, realising that I needed that Sykes attack close to hand, I repurchased 1987 and Blue Murder. And in the past few years, I’ve been keeping gentle tabs on John Sykes activity – which is another reason why his passing away last week shocks.

There always seems to have been the promise of new music and a return to business. Fans were well up for it. Interviews with Tony Franklin and Carmine Appice said they’d been touch with him and the door was open so the rumblings were positive. Sykes himself said in 2019 that he had stuff ready to go … and each year passed by without. So everyone waited for further word, hopeful that one day something would appear.

A Carmine Appice interview published on YouTube in 2024 threw out the same Blue Murder question but where there was optimism before, now there was resignation. Appice said, “John…. know no-one knows what he’s doing.”

All too sadly now, I think we can guess.

So, this week has seen many riffs raised to a guy who made some of the best and made it all look so easy. Great singer too, the complete hard rock package. Watch the live version of Billy by Blue Murder on The Big Al Show – link below – from 1989 (?) and see. It comes with a Mullet Warning but the music and the performance is astonishing. The whole band smokes, every beat and note. And how Sykes sings, plays and peels off a screaming solo so effortlessly is something else. Favourite bit? Possibly the super-tight post-pause riff that explodes into the first solo. Or the casual intro.

Actually, all of it.

He was missed when he was alive. What more can you say now?

Not much, really. Better just pick a track, riff or solo, celebrate the gift of Sykes – and share it.

Some Sykes clips:
Thin Lizzy, Cold Sweat – The Tube, 1983
Whitesnake, Children of the Night audio, 1987
Blue Murder, Billy – The Big Al Show
John Sykes, Dawn of a Brand New Day, 2021

Blue Murder - Blue Murder
Blue Murder repurchased

VAN HALEN: Fair Warning

BEFORE THE CABARET: A DARKER TURN

Note: This review was started and left unfinished months ago, long before Eddie Van Halen left us. But the notes informed this EVH post and some of its sentiment will be repeated here. RIP EVH.

Why are we wrapped up in Fair Warning?

This time, it’s because of Music Blues. The suicidal filth scuzz guitar draaaaag Music Blues. The Van-tithesis Music Blues. How so? Well, by my amateur reckoning, the diabolical dirge crawling out the back end of Things Haven’t Gone Wellreviewed right here – just has to be a deranged warping of Van Halen’s strangest moment, and that moment happens to be on Fair Warning. Which means it’s Fair Warning replay time. Again.

Fair Warning: less cheer

Every time I play this 31-minute 17-second gem, bought more than a decade after my first Van Halen love-in (a summer ’91 purchase of I, II, Women and Children First, and the then-new F.U.C.K.) wore off, it’s a reminder of how much it caught me off guard. Still does. It’s Shock and Awe with a smile, as the best Van Halen always is, but with less sunshine. With Fair Warning, you get no cover versions. No ballads. No cheese. No synthy rock-lite breezers. Even the artwork tells you a different mood is lurking … how un-Halen is that painting on the cover? Absolutely nothing like the action band shots of before. Fair Warning is where Van Halen Gets Serious – well, as much as they ever could – by turning the VH attack into something a little tougher and meaner …

…which brings us to track 1. Mean Street.

Fading in fast on a cosmic fretboard wave, Eddie’s unaccompanied intro swoops and hangs for a second like a UFO beaming an unearthly rock entity into your brains. GAWP TIME. But the best comes next – a standalone riff, pure A.F., bridging to an almost-funk full-band VH groove that drives HARD. No indulgence, no hanging around. Just effortlessly dextrous interplay which shows that Eddie’s liquid rhythm is easily the equal of his virtuo-so-hot leads.

For a masterclass in how to use space in a rock song, check the breakdown at 3′ 20”. It’s one of their weapons: knowing when to break down, drop out and rebuild a song is a massive part of their explosive early vibe. It’s what separates Van Halen from itself, too – those first four albums are a stylistic block, distinct from what came later. There’s a precision around each instrument that’s ultra clean and cut-throat sharp, yet there’s no bleed.

And let’s not forget that, with Mean Street, Fair Warning has a track #1 that matches the insanely high bar set by Van Halen’s previous album-starters Running With the Devil, You’re No Good, and And the Cradle Will Rock. Heavy menace radiates from each.

From that colossal start, Fair Warning doesn’t falter. “Dirty Movies” rubs sliding riffy sleaze up against Michael Anthony’s totemic bass, Sinner’s Swing! shifts like a rough Hot for Teacher prototype, and the 2′ 44” breakdown in Hear About It Later is one of many Eddie Moments – check that rhythm play, just before the solo. Sweet. Every track brings its own moments, too many to go into, so let’s skip to the un-Halen ending for a minute.

So This Is Love? is the last track of lit-up harmonies before a two-part downer finale, starting with Sunday Afternoon in the Park – the one copped by Stephen Tanner in Music Blues, the electronic instrumental that’s part symph, part dying cyborg. Really? Yeah. You can see where 1984 (the track) came from, right here in this John Carpenter-ly chill. Then One Foot Out the Door fades in with a couple of verses and two Eddie solo flurries that absolutely burn before the fade to black. It’s as if they decided halfway through that they didn’t need a proper song so they ditched the lyrics and Eddie just played the shit out of what was left, calling it a wrap in under 32 minutes.

This is what makes Fair Warning a really great Van Halen record: the unresolved ending and the out-of-character electronics that sign off half an hour of hard-rock manna. Sure, there’s a lot more to peak Van Halen than just Eddie, especially the rhythm section and vocal harmonies, but the joy you get from hearing him play gives you a lift, even when you’re already flying. It’s fucking exciting. And you’re struck by how much he plays too, never stopping but never overplaying either. Room to shine? Absolutely. Out of control? Never. Look how short the running times for those early albums are. All virtuosity is within the structure of the song.

No-one’s pretending Van Halen are the band you’d take to your grave, even though many will. But if you haven’t heard Fair Warning, either because you just never got round to it or because Van Halen are a joke to your metal sensibilities, you’re missing out. It’s Van Halen with zero weaknesses – and not even the debut managed that (hello, Ice Cream Man). If it doesn’t convince, fair enough. But to me, Fair Warning is the strongest eruption from the white-hot years.

And if it’s good enough for Music Blues …

Van Halen: Fair Warning (Warner Bros, 1981)
Mean Street
“Dirty Movies”
Sinner’s Swing!
Hear About It Later
Unchained
Push Comes To Shove
So This Is Love?
Sunday Afternoon In The Park
One Foot Out The Door