Alex Van Halen's memoir Brothers hits shelves later this month, and as the publish date gets closer the former Van Halen drummer is giving fans a preview of what to expect with an excerpt from the audiobook that's all about his late brother Eddie Van Halen.

In the four-and-a-half-minute clip, Alex narrates the following passage:

Without my brother I would not be. We fight, argue, we even argue about agreeing on things, but there is a bond and unconditional love that very few people ever experienced in a lifetime. Music was our heart and soul. That’s what we did. That’s what we loved. That’s what we enjoyed. And that’s what we were good at. It was also the thing that made us as close as two brothers can be. We were connected in every way — genetically, artistically, financially, emotionally, and though neither of us stuck with Catholicism, I’m going to go ahead and say spiritually. It’s very difficult to unwind that. It’s been almost four years since you passed, Ed, but sometimes it feels like it just happened this morning.

One of my earliest memories — I couldn’t have been more than two — is of our mother telling me to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake you, my new baby brother. You weren’t just younger, you were more introverted, more impressionable, and more sensitive than I was — always… You couldn’t filter out criticism or adulation for that matter. Everything just got right to you. People always talk about that smile of yours, the smile of a little kid. Open. It wasn’t just the way you looked. That was you. That sensitivity is part of what made you a brilliant musician. The world’s greatest guitarist is what everyone says. It’s kind of a dicey title. You never liked it. I can tell you this much, saying you’re the greatest implies there are many more like you. But there is only one, Edward Van Halen. You could play just a single note and it sounded different, distinct. Miles Davis said it’s not the notes, it’s the intent. It’s that intangible essence that makes the difference between one sound and another.

From the first time you picked up a guitar — my guitar, actually — the resonance and intonation were unique. Long before people were going crazy for your finger tapping, the talent was already there. Even when you just played a chord, you always said you didn’t know where it came from. People tell me, you’ll always have the music and the best tribute anyone can give you is to listen to our songs. I’m listening to ‘Loss of Control’ as I write this. It’s the stuff in between the licks that gets me. It’s so particular, such a distinctive way of playing you had. And then within seconds you’ve already changed the lick. You’ve let it evolve ever so slightly in the most interesting way, and you weren’t even aware of it half the time. Music just came through you.

I watched you take your last breath. In that moment, all the stuff you did or made in this world, you can’t take it with you. Since you’ve been gone, I catch myself talking to you, yelling at you, in my head or sometimes out loud. I still have trouble believing you’re gone, and probably for me, you never will be. Outliving my little brother, this just wasn’t the plan. As the older brother, I was supposed to die first. Same as always, Ed, butting in line.

I’ve watched, sometimes with anger, sometimes with grief and other times with pride as the world has mourned your passing and other people have claimed to tell your story. But I was with you from day one. We shared the experience of coming to this country and figuring out how to fit in. We shared a record player, an 800-square-foot house, a mom and a dad, and a work ethic. Later, we shared the back of a tour bus, the experience of becoming successful, of becoming fathers and uncles, of alcoholism and spending more hours in the studio than I’ve spent doing anything else in this life. We shared a depth of understanding that most people could only hope to achieve. We shared a last name. And we shared a band, and here’s what I have to say.

The audiobook version of Brothers will be soundtracked by "Unfinished," the last song Alex and Eddie wrote together before the guitarist's death in 2020. Brothers is slated for an October 22 release.

Klinger