Eddie Van Halen was on stage at the Greek Theater in Los Angeles, testing amplifiers and checking guitar tones. Three hours before doors opened, a venue manager walked in, saw someone in jeans and a work shirt messing with expensive equipment, and immediately shouted, “Hey, you can’t be on that stage right now.
Move that equipment backstage and wait for the actual sound check. This is a Van Halen show. Everything needs to be perfect.” Eddie looked up and said calmly, “I know. That’s why I’m here early. The manager’s face changed from irritation to horror as he realized who he was talking to. It was a warm afternoon in August 2004, and Van Halen was scheduled to play the Greek Theater as part of their summer tour.
The venue was beautiful, an outdoor amphitheater built into the hills with incredible acoustics and a reputation for hosting legendary performances. Eddie had played there before and loved it. But tonight’s show had some new equipment configurations he wanted to test personally before the full band arrived for soundcheck.
Eddie had gotten to the venue around 2:00 p.m. Doors wouldn’t open until 7, and the band wasn’t scheduled for soundcheck until 4:00. He wanted quiet time with the stage, the amps, the acoustics, time to make sure everything was dialed in exactly right. He was dressed for work, old jeans with holes in the knees, a gray work shirt that had seen better days, work boots.
His hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He hadn’t shaved in a few days. To anyone who didn’t look closely, he looked exactly like a road crew member, which was fine with Eddie. He’d started as a roadie for other bands when Van Halen was trying to break through. He knew what the job entailed, and he respected it.
Eddie had let himself in through the stage door. He had credentials, but the security guard who’d checked his laminate was new and hadn’t recognized him just seen Van Halen all access and waved him through. Now Eddie was on stage plugging in different guitars to different amps, making notes about what worked and what needed adjustment.
He was completely absorbed in the work, listening to how the room responded to different frequencies, adjusting EQ settings, testing the monitoring system. He didn’t notice when someone entered the venue through the main doors and started walking down the aisle toward the stage. Martin Brener was the venue manager at the Greek theater.
He’d been doing this job for 12 years and he took it seriously. A venue like the Greek had a reputation to maintain. When bands came through, Martin made sure everything ran smoothly. Doors opened on time. Sound was perfect. No equipment issues. No delays. He was good at his job, but he was also a bit territorial about his venue.
Martin had come in early to do a final walkthrough before the Van Halen crew arrived. He wanted to make sure everything was ready, power distribution checked, backstage areas clean, security briefed. As he walked into the theater from the lobby, he expected to see an empty stage. Instead, he saw someone on the stage messing with what looked like very expensive equipment.
Martin felt a flash of irritation. The band wasn’t supposed to be here for another 2 hours. If crew members were showing up early and setting up without coordination, it could throw off the whole schedule. And this guy looked like he was just randomly plugging things in, not following any kind of systematic setup plan.
“Hey,” Martin called out, walking quickly toward the stage. “Hey, you!” Eddie looked up from the amp he was adjusting, saw someone approaching, and waved. “You can’t be on that stage right now,” Martin said, his voice firm. Sound check isn’t for 2 hours. Who are you with? Eddie pointed to his laminate. Van Halen.
I can see that, Martin said impatiently. But you’re not supposed to be setting up yet. We have a schedule. The band will be here at 4 for proper sound check. Right now, you’re just making noise and potentially messing up settings that have already been configured. Eddie set down the guitar he was holding. Actually, I’m not messing anything up.
I’m just testing the equipment before the full band gets here. That’s not how we do things here, Martin said. The venue’s sound crew handles the initial setup. Then the band’s crew comes in for soundcheck with the venue crew present. We don’t have random rodies showing up early and plugging things in without supervision. Eddie tried not to smile.
I’m not exactly random. Look, Martin said, his patients wearing thin. I don’t care if you’ve been with Van Halen for 20 years. This is the Greek theater. We have procedures. This is a Van Halen show. Everything needs to be perfect. You can’t just wander in and start playing with equipment. I understand, Eddie said.
But I promise I know what I’m doing. I’m sure you do, Martin said in a tone that suggested he wasn’t sure at all. But protocol is protocol. Move that equipment backstage, wait for the rest of your crew, and come back at the scheduled time. The venue crew will help you set up properly. Then Eddie looked at the venue manager, then at the equipment on stage, then back at the manager.
Can I ask you something? Do you know what Eddie Van Halen looks like? Martin blinked, confused by the question. What? Yeah, I’ve seen pictures. Long hair, guitar player. What does that have to do with anything? Well, Eddie said, taking off his work shirt to reveal a Van Halen Tour t-shirt underneath.
I’m Eddie Van Halen and this is my equipment and I’m testing it early because I want tonight’s show to be perfect. Same reason you came in early to make sure everything’s right. The color drained from Martin’s face so fast Eddie thought the man might faint. Oh my god, Martin whispered. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, Eddie walked to the front of the stage.
It’s okay. You were doing your job. You saw someone who you thought was out of protocol and you addressed it. That’s what a good venue manager does. I just ordered Eddie Van Halen off his own stage, Martin said, sounding like he might be sick. I told you to move your own equipment. I said you were making noise. I called you a random roadie.
Technically, I am a random roadie, Eddie said with a grin. I started as a roadie. I know how to set up equipment. I know how to run cables. That’s how I learned what works and what doesn’t. But I was so rude, Martin said. I didn’t even ask who you were. I just assumed. You assumed I was crew because I’m dressed like crew and I’m doing crew work.
Eddie said that’s a reasonable assumption. You weren’t rude. You were direct. There’s a [clears throat] difference. Martin sat down heavily in the front row, his head in his hands. This is the worst day of my career. Eddie hopped off the stage and sat in the seat next to Martin. Can I tell you a story? Martin looked up.
