The book's highlight is the band's nadir: a blow-by-blow account of the atrocious debacle that was Van Halen's Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction last March. The boys couldn't get it together enough to appear on stage together: Eddie wound up in rehab again, and only Sammy and Michael Anthony showed up to accept the award, jamming on stage with Paul fucking Schaffer and leaving the Roth-era tribute to the helpless, atonal Velvet Revolver. It was devastating. "Yeah, that was a disaster," Christe concurs. "It was so sad. I kept expecting Roth to come jumping out of the wings. That's a perfect example of how the absence has just hurt them so much."
The ray of hope here? Wolfgang. Christe sees a poignancy in Van Halen's resurrection involving a teenager, someone to represent both the childlike glee of original fans and the new generation that has yet to discover the band's majesty but needs to learn. "A lot of people feel thwarted," he says of the modified lineup, "because you want it to be this 'Spirit of '84' event. It's gonna be its own thing."
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