By Juan C. Ayllon No doubt, you've heard the news: yesterday, Eddie Van Halen passed away. In an era characterized by the brash and bold -- big hair, oversized art, a tycoon trumping sensibilities with his name plastered large on books, buildings and helicopters, and electric guitar riffs driving Top 40 hits, he was an icon. His solo on Michael Jackson's mega hit, "Beat It", cemented his legacy with the mainstream crowd in the early 80s, and he'd go on to greater heights in the coming years with albums such as For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge in 1991. But the 80s and 90s passed and, as these things go, there was the inevitable decline. I caught a hint of this when I attended a gig by another guitar legend, Steve Lukather of Toto fame, at North Hollywood's Baked Potato with his side band, Los Lobotomys, circa 1990. I'd seen Eddie across the crowded room and when I stepped out back to chat with Lukather between sessions, the two were talking next to Van Halen's slick crotch rocket motorcycle with an empty bar glass on its seat.
During a lull in their conversation, I ask Luke if I can talk to him. He says, sure, I begin blathering about who knows what, and suddenly Eddy interrupts. "Hey, buddy, can you take my glass back to the bar?" I'm insulted; I'm not some busboy, so I respond, "Um, no." "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says, slurring his words. I begin talking again, but moments later, he repeats his request, followed by "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Taking the hint, I say, 'see you later,' and head back inside. However, later on during that set, I notice Eddie staring intently as Lukather plies his craft, lighting up the room with his masterful playing and the occasional orgasmic guitar solo. A year or two later when listening to a song on Unlawful Carnal Knowledge, I recognize Luke's influence and call up my friend, Scott, a career cop who plays guitar on the side who was there that night at The Baked Potato. "Oh, yeah, without a doubt," he says. Eddie Van Halen had observed another master guitarist's technique and integrated it seamlessly into his playing. Just like that. It's said that he never learned to read music, but he was a definite student of the guitar and man, could he play a mean lick. Mr. Eddie Van Halen died at 65 from cancer. As I'm sitting here, I' hear his hit, "Panama," and his guitar riffs, alternatively growling and squealing, in my head. I imagine him swinging from a rope, his red, white and black Frankenstrat hanging from his guitar strap, his legs splayed, in the accompanying music video of that song with his infectious toothy grin. When he comes to mind, I want to remember him that way.
2 Comments
11/1/2020 09:17:42 am
I have that recording and am in the process of getting it transferred to cd.
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FRANCIS D FALLON
12/18/2020 06:22:40 pm
I was there that night. He was barefoot in white overalls and no shirt. He was bopping his head so hard to Luke the whole night, drinking Heineken's. I remember him sneaking off into the back shed to do lines with Luke in the back. I also remember him saying that he hadn't played in a year, when I talked to him!
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Juan C. AyllonA writer, artist, educator and owner of Prairie Audio Man Cave, he lives with his wife, Isabel (AKA Belle), and their Goldendoodle, Liam, enjoys listening to high fidelity music and all things hi-fi at their home in the greater Chicagoland area.. Archives
March 2024
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