Vandenberg - Sin Review | Angry Metal Guy

Here I go again, going down the only road I’ve ever known – reviewing 80s era metal heroes trying to recapture lightning in a Zima bottle. If you had MTV in 1987, then, in-between Tawny Kitaen’s automotive gymnastics and David Coverdale’s expertly waxed chest, you witnessed Dutch guitar maestro, Adrian Vandenberg play one of the most iconic solos of the era. While Mr. Vandenberg is best known for his work in Whitesnake (after John Sykes was acrimoniously fired), he had three big, poppy, solo albums before then. He was poised to make it big with the syrupy “Burning Heart,” but things didn’t pan out. He was then undoubtedly mesmerized by David Coverdale’s sweaty chest and seduced by the prospect of MTV immortality and joined Team Snake. They had a good run, including a period of double guitar attack with the perpetually overrated Steve Vai. What has Vandenberg been up to since then? I don’t know – you can Google it. I do know that when I plugged my nose and plumbed the AMG promo bin, I was shocked to see this new record, sad and lonely, sandwiched between so many black metal and stoner projects. Is this new outing a Sin-cere effort to make up for lost time or will it be another bad hair day? Let’s slide it in and see.

Vandenberg (rightfully) panders to his nostalgic fanbase. The first thing you’ll notice is that the singer on Sin sounds like David Coverdale after a night of Wild Turkey and Pal Malls. Vocalist Mats Leven has been around the block a few times having worked with Yngwie Malmsteen in the late 90s, Therion in the 2000s and Candlemass in the 2010s. He brings a deeper, raspier delivery to 80s style wailing that feels both homage and update. On “Baby You’ve Changed” – essentially a remake of Whitesnake’s “Is this Love?” – Leven practically pouts his way through the verse and then effortlessly soars on the chorus. One can imagine an arena of rabid, lighter-toting fans screaming along if this had been released in 1988.

Sin takes a few songs to get cooking. The title track is the first head-turner and an interesting departure from the 3–4-minute pop/rock song formula that much of the record adheres to. It’s essentially a mash-up of Led Zeppelin’s “Kasmir” and Deep Purple’s “Perfect Strangers” that mostly works despite the generous swipes from the source material. From there, the album hits a sweet spot with “Light it Up,” “Walking on Water” and “Burning Skies” being the most contagious tracks. The latter features the most distinctive riff with a kind of funky sidewinder groove. It would be easy to be cynical about this record with its outdated tropes and frozen-in-time sound, but if you check your ego and frizz your hair, there are some fun, well-written songs. I don’t know who the audience is for this other than a few olde timers like me who have a soft spot for the sunset strip sound, but it’s produced well enough to elicit a good number of head bobs and toe taps.

We should probably talk about the guitar playing on Sin. Though Adrian Vandenberg has always been a respected guitarist and clearly knows his way around a fretboard, I’ve never been captivated by his playing. His style has always felt too clean and predictable, a bit like George Lynch. Sure, there’s some speed and fire but the solos seem mapped out and redundant. He throws in a few Eastern accents into the “Sin” solo, but I otherwise feel most of the solos on the record are interchangeable. Vanderberg’s prowess shines more in riffs and the arrangements. He crafts a surprisingly good number of catchy tunes that don’t overstay their welcome.

If you’re reading this (and you noticed the badass flying sharks), you’re probably curious enough to give Sin a spin. And I expect that you’ll mostly enjoy what you find. There’s nothing new or particularly exciting but it is well done for what it is. “Walking on Water” and “Baby You’ve Changed” might get stuck in your head for a few days but things could be worse. If Steel can give the new U.D.O. record a 3.5 (not that he’s wrong), I can give Vandenberg a healthy 2.5. for not shitting the bed. This album won’t appeal to many people but to those who want to raise their ice-cold Bartles and Jaymes in salute to the radio hits of yore, I say “Go ahead, it’s not a sin.”