The Music That Waited
It began with a theme.
When I wrote the original Catherine song, it was simply meant to be the heartbeat of the film — a theme that carried emotion, mystery, and longing. I had no idea it would ever reach the ears of Eddie Van Halen.
He called me.
Not to collaborate.
To license it.
That phone call changed everything.
We met, and what started as a musical exchange became a friendship. Eddie reimagined the piece — keeping much of the original harmonic structure — and layered it with his own voice: guitar, drums, texture. It became something bigger than either of us anticipated. Today, that version lives online with nearly two million views — a reminder of a moment when two creative paths unexpectedly crossed.
But the deeper story unfolded in the evenings at 5150.
Sacred Sin: The Experimental
When we began working on Sacred Sin, the approach was never about making a “Van Halen” record.
In fact, Eddie would often say,
“This isn’t a Van Halen project. This is a Michael and Eddie project.”
And he meant it.
Most people never realized how deep his classical understanding ran. We talked chord structure constantly. We sat at the piano, working through patterns and melodic movements. He had a profound sense of melancholy — especially in the way he approached cello-inspired lines and string arrangements.
We would sketch ideas on the piano, then build them out in Pro Tools. Sometimes we let tape roll for hours — jumping between instruments, talking through ideas, letting accidents become architecture.
Everything was experimental.
I remember Eddie climbing into the piano itself — striking the strings with a guitar pick — chasing tone like it was a living thing.
There was no ego in those sessions. No pressure to sound like anything familiar. In fact, we intentionally stayed as far away from “Van Halen” as possible. The music leaned cinematic, emotional, ethereal. Film score textures. Space. Breath.
The Sacred Sin soundtrack would go on to win AVN Music of the Year, but what mattered more were those evenings alone in 5150.
Not many people got that time with Ed.
I didn’t fully understand how rare it was until much later.
Sacred Sin: The Experimental
When we began working on Sacred Sin, the approach was never about making a “Van Halen” record.
In fact, Eddie would often say,
“This isn’t a Van Halen project. This is a Michael and Eddie project.”
And he meant it.
Most people never realized how deep his classical understanding ran. We talked chord structure constantly. We sat at the piano, working through patterns and melodic movements. He had a profound sense of melancholy — especially in the way he approached cello-inspired lines and string arrangements.
We would sketch ideas on the piano, then build them out in Pro Tools. Sometimes we let tape roll for hours — jumping between instruments, talking through ideas, letting accidents become architecture.
Everything was experimental.
I remember Eddie climbing into the piano itself — striking the strings with a guitar pick — chasing tone like it was a living thing.
There was no ego in those sessions. No pressure to sound like anything familiar. In fact, we intentionally stayed as far away from “Van Halen” as possible. The music leaned cinematic, emotional, ethereal. Film score textures. Space. Breath.
The Sacred Sin soundtrack would go on to win AVN Music of the Year, but what mattered more were those evenings alone in 5150.
Not many people got that time with Ed.
I didn’t fully understand how rare it was until much later.
The Notebooks
The new music — the Sinisteria / Synthara Project — comes from those notebooks.
From fragments.
From half-formed themes.
From harmonic sketches written during that Sacred Sin era.
They are not note-for-note recreations. They are emotional interpretations. Conversations with memory. I revisited ideas, combined them, reshaped them — letting them evolve into something new while preserving their original frequency.
There are tapes — hours of them — where we simply let everything run. Conversation woven into music. Laughter between takes. Philosophies about chord inversions. Silence between notes.
For now, much of that original session material remains private due to constraints from the Van Halen estate.
But the spirit of it lives here.
The Sound Now
The sound of this album is ethereal. Cinematic. Haunting.
It does not sound like Van Halen — by design.
Back then, we consciously moved away from rock vocabulary. We were building atmosphere. Film textures. Emotional landscapes.
AI became essential in completing this project twenty years later. The choirs, the orchestral layers, the ability to mix at a level that once required a room full of players at 5150 — it simply would not have been possible otherwise.
Technology allowed these dormant pieces to breathe again.
A Conversation Across Time
Revisiting this music feels like sitting with Eddie again.
Like opening a door and finding him still there at the piano.
He didn’t challenge my creativity.
He guided it.
Inspired it.
What began as a musical collaboration became a lifelong friendship. And returning to these melodies feels less like revisiting old demos — and more like receiving messages.
Across time.
The Synthara Project is not a tribute record.
It’s a conversation.
And some conversations never really end.
