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My accidental Van Halen rabbit hole continued with Brothers by Alex Van Halen, and honestly, I had no idea what to expect.
I checked out the audiobook through Libby on a whim, thinking it would simply be another rock memoir to add to the stack. What I got instead was something far more intimate.
The audiobook is read by Alex himself, which makes all the difference. You can hear the weight in his voice. At times he laughs while telling old stories about the early days of Van Halen. Other times, his voice tightens, and you’re reminded that this isn’t just a bandmate telling tour stories — this is a brother trying to make sense of an unimaginable loss.
Before this, I’d heard about the band through other lenses: interviews with Eddie Van Halen, accounts from their tour manager, even broader rock history narratives like the one in the Black Sabbath.
Those perspectives were fascinating, sometimes chaotic, occasionally uncomfortable — depending on how much of the mythology you want peeled back.
But Alex’s story is different.
It’s not just about backstage fights or excess or fame. It’s about immigration. It’s about two young brothers arriving in the United States, learning English, learning instruments, switching instruments, pushing each other, competing, protecting, and creating. It’s about building something massive together — one of the most iconic rock bands in the world — and doing it side by side.
As an only child, this is the part I can’t quite wrap my brain around. Siblings already share a history no one else can access.
But to share that kind of history, from childhood to global superstardom, feels almost mythic. They weren’t just bandmates. They were witnesses to each other’s entire lives.
And that’s what makes Brothers less of a music memoir and more of a grief memoir.
Yes, there are stories about the rise of Van Halen. Yes, there’s humor. Yes, there are the expected moments of rock-and-roll chaos. But running beneath all of it is loss. You can feel Alex wrestling with how to carry on without the one person who understood the whole arc.
It’s not a polished, PR-friendly legacy project. It feels raw. At times, unresolved. Which, honestly, makes it more powerful.
I’m not sure I’d universally recommend every rock memoir I’ve read during this Van Halen deep dive; some depend on how badly you want the curtain pulled back. But Brothers feels different. It feels like something fans would appreciate, not because it exposes more, but because it humanizes more.
It reminds you that behind the guitar solos and the mythology was a family. And behind the legend was a brother.
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