Everyone who’s ever picked up an instrument or a microphone and learned to play has influences. Bedroom hack to veteran club rat, to superstars and everyone in between. We all have players we admire and respect, maybe even strive to emulate. But there is another common trait among musicians. We all have “the one.” The one who first made us feel the magic of music. The one who transformed us from casual music fan into wannabe rock star. The one who knocked us on our asses and lit a fire inside us. For me, unquestionably, that person was Edward Van Halen.

My older brother Donovan, our cousins Rick, Keith & Kevin, and even our uncle Allan (big family, long story) are all roughly the same age, so naturally they were a pretty tight knit crew as kids. I would often hear Van Halen blaring from the next room when they would hang out together (of course I wasn’t actually in the room with them, being the pissant kid brother and all), and I was intrigued. I would love to say it was because I’ve always had great taste, but what the hell did I know about good music at 7 years of age? No, I’m sure the real reason I was curious about this band was because all these guys I looked up to were. If they thought it was cool, I thought it was cool.

But I started listening to the band more and more on my own. By this time all the David Lee Roth era albums had been released, so I wasn’t introduced to the music chronologically. I would bounce between whatever cassettes my brother had in our room, learning the lyrics and playing air guitar whenever he wasn’t around. So when I finally got around to hearing “Van Halen”, the debut album that put the band on the map, I guess you could say I was officially a fan.

It was then that I first heard Eruption, which is still regarded by most as the greatest recorded guitar solo in rock history. 1:42 of pure fretboard sorcery, the likes of which the world had never experienced before:

Even as a kid I could feel the gravity of it, but it was a little too much for my young brain to process. We didn’t have MTV, so I could never SEE Ed play. I was just listening, trying wrap my head around how in the hell he could make a guitar do these things. The only person and I had ever seen play to that point in my life was my dad, and his guitar did NOT sound like anything like this. I often imagine what it was like to be a teenager in the late 70’s and to hear Eruption when it first came out. They must’ve thought an alien had come down from outer space.

As badass as Eruption was, it wasn’t what hooked me. It wasn’t until I made my way to last track on side A that it happened, when I heard this:

Holy sh*t! I was instantly mesmerized. The grit. The tone. The raw f*cking POWER of the riff. I couldn’t get enough. I would listen to the first 32 seconds of this song over and over (and over). Each time rewinding the tape back to just the right spot so I could listen again, as if I were hearing it for the first time. I was only 7 or 8 years old, but I’m here to tell you this song fundamentally changed something in me. A switch was flipped, and I was no longer a fan. I was a disciple. And I was going to be a rock star, plain and simple. I would start daydreaming during school, getting busted for doodling posters for my imaginary band that I was going to start, the whole deal. It became a bit of an obsession, listening to everything I could get my hands on, as much as possible. Looking back, I guess it was a little weird for a kid in elementary school, but that’s the effect the music had on me. My bro was obsessed right there with me, and Van Halen became an entity around which he and I really bonded.

This was around the time that David Lee Roth split from the band, creating a fracture among fans that largely exists to this day. I guess I was too young to understand, but I never got it. In my mind, if Ed was playing on a song, I was listening. Whoever was on the mic was secondary. Now, as I got older, I did start to understand the strengths of each lineup more and I guess people choosing sides made a little more sense to me. But at the end of the day, the greatest guitar player the world has ever known was in both bands, so that was enough for me to not have to choose.

I never did become that rock star, but I did spend a great chunk of my life touring, recording and chasing the dream. And I never regretted any of it for one second. I can trace my drive to take music seriously and the courage I mustered to ultimately dive in and give it a go to back to one man: Edward Van Halen.

Since my brother started me on my Van Halen journey all those years ago, I suppose it was somehow fitting that he was the one to deliver the awful news of Ed’s passing. It felt like someone punched me in the gut. Throughout the evening, I had more than a dozen people reach out to talk about it. Friends, family, old bandmates, even my mom. It was like we were discussing the loss of a family member. I guess in a lot of ways, we were.

I’ll leave you with this, even though I know you won’t watch it because it’s 13 minutes long. But if you want to see pure genius and pure joy rolled into one, pour yourself a drink and enjoy.

Thank you, Ed, for sharing your incredible gifts with the world and changing my life. Rest easy.