The news of Edward Van Halen’s death hit me like a punch to the gut. I was honestly surprised at how hard it struck me. I guess losing your heroes is never easy at any age.

When I was a 15-or-so-year-old guitarist just trying to figure out which end of the instrument to play, my friend and now long-time bassist Mitchell Moore offered up a challenge: “Check out Van Halen. You’ll be blown away.”

I kind of smirked at him. I mean after all, I was already listening to Led Zeppelin, Peter Frampton, and Boston — how much better could it get?

I found out just how much better the first time I heard Eddie. It was track number two on Van Halen’s debut LP that dropped my jaw and would become his magnum opus. Never even intended to be recorded, this solo warmup piece was called “Eruption.” Combining a blinding barrage of notes and soaring dive bombs, its apex came when Eddie began his patented two-handed tapping technique, which essentially combined both hands furiously creating a flurry of perfectly intertwined tones on the guitar neck.

I was gobsmacked. In those 102 seconds, Edward Van Halen had completely obliterated the watermark for electric guitar playing established by names like Clapton and Hendrix. And, here over 40 years later, that piece still is the single guitar solo all other rock guitar playing is measured against.

I played the record over and over, just trying to figure out what the actual heck this man – one made of flesh and blood just like me, mind you — was doing to get those sounds, all of those baffling sounds, out of an electric guitar.

Nobody on the planet sounded like him. He didn’t just play his guitar — he attacked it, and left no part of it untouched, creating otherworldy howls, cries, and roars interspersed among his soaring virtuosity. His playing was all at once incredibly technical, melodic, powerful, yet always tinged with a healthy dose of fun.

Needless to say, his influence on the guitar world was profound. There was absolutely no denying this guy was rewriting the rules right in front of our ears, and whether you admitted it or not, you either hung him as the guitar North Star for your playing or you simply were OK with being considered just OK.

He was my musical idol. I practiced innumerable hours, not really trying to imitate but more honor him in my own playing. And, there were ‘certain’ things I got from him that I ended up doing pretty well. Needless to say, my confidence as a player grew along the way.

But through it all, there were other “certain” things, other “certain” sounds that Eddie got out of his guitar that I just couldn’t figure out (listen to the beginning of “Mean Streets” or “Women in Love” if you need examples). Didn’t matter how much I tried, those sounds just wouldn’t come from my axe.

Then in 1984 I finally got my first shot to see Van Halen live. I started bragging to all of my friends — including my bandmates — that all I needed was to “see” what he was doing and I would be able to nail everything he was doing.

And I honestly believed myself.

I will never forget that experience. The opening band was good, but not even 10 minutes into their 30-minute set the crowd start chanting “EDDIE! EDDIE! EDDIE!” at the top of their lungs. They weren’t chanting the name of a band — they were chanting the name of a guitar player (shows how incredibly respected he was).

When Van Halen took the stage, I unsheathed my binoculars and locked in on that guitar player. I was ready to “figure him out” once and for all. He started everything with this unearthly squeal that seemingly rose out of nowhere, peaked, and then dive bombed right back into his amp. He then went into that amazing two-handed tapping thing and followed with a blinding blast of perfectly played notes before the band kicked into “You Really Got Me.”

All done while running around the stage wearing a clear “ain’t nothing to this” grin. It was all fun for him. I put the binoculars down. Not even a minute into it, I looked at my now laughing-at-me-friends and said, “that man is not of this planet.” And in the now near 40 years since, my opinion of his origins never changed. 

The main lesson I learned from him that night? Find joy in playing. I never saw a photo of him onstage without a smile.

As incredibly gifted as he was musically (he never learned to read music), Edward Van Halen was also prone to addictions, in his case nicotine and alcohol. He was diagnosed with tongue cancer in 2000, blaming metal guitar picks he used to hold in his mouth, completely ignoring the several packs-a-day cigarette habit he never could completely kick that were the root of the cancer that eventually returned and took his life.

The soundtrack of most of my life came from Edward Van Halen’s flame-throwing guitar virtuosity. In a generation of guitar gods, Eddie was my six-string Zeus.

There’s an old Righteous Brothers song that says “if there’s a rock and roll heaven, you know they’ve got a hell of a band.” Given who all is up there now, I don’t doubt it’s true.

But I know now who’s playing lead.