Eric Martin 2025.12.20

“From the legend of arena-sized rock to an intimate unplugged setting, this night traced the emotional journey of Eric Martin across half a century.”

As the audience filed into the venue, the room quickly revealed itself as a gathering of rock devotees. Band T-shirts were everywhere—many of them bearing the logos of metal acts that once terrified conservative American parents in the 1980s. Unsurprisingly, most of them belonged to Mr. Big, the band that defined Eric Martin’s legacy for generations of fans.

Thinking back on Mr. Big’s iconic moments and the stories fans still recount with reverence, it is hard not to marvel at the arc of Eric Martin’s career. From writing heavy metal in his youth, to commanding stadiums of tens of thousands, and now standing onstage with a stripped-down, acoustic setup—can one truly imagine the emotional distance he has traveled over five decades? Today’s global tour undoubtedly carries a very different meaning than those early years ever could.

Before the show, Martin’s warm voice could be heard drifting from the backstage area. That legendary tone—equal parts power and tenderness—ignited anticipation throughout the room. Then, the performance began.

Now 65, Eric Martin came of age during the peak of heavy metal. Bands like Alice Cooper, Twisted Sister, Skid Row, Poison, Mötley Crüe, and Bon Jovi embodied a generation that inherited the flamboyant legacy of glam and hard rock pioneers from the 1970s. Gender-fluid fashion, exaggerated makeup, towering hairstyles, tight leather pants—this was an era that redefined the coexistence of masculinity and femininity.

Musically, virtuosity and speed were celebrated, alongside songs that glorified post-boom prosperity, brotherhood, and romantic longing. These themes helped shape the foundations of modern pop and rock. At the same time, they provoked conservative society, even triggering the PMRC’s moral crusade—ironically underscoring rock music’s core identity as a challenge to authority. This rebellious spirit has since been immortalized in films like Dazed and Confused, The Breakfast Club, and more recently, Stranger Things.

In the mere twenty seconds it took him to walk onstage, Martin’s charisma was undeniable. With minimal words and expressive body language, he commanded the room. It was as if his energy had leapt across half a century, allowing younger fans—those who never witnessed that era firsthand—to feel the American Dream that rock music once promised.

On “Untouchable,” the use of slide guitar evoked blues and country traditions embedded deep within rock’s DNA. Played by guitarist David Cotterill (formerly of Demon), the sound felt effortless, fluid, and organic. Even when classic metal riffs were translated onto acoustic guitars, the music retained its power—enough to make the crowd clap instinctively after each solo.

Martin spoke candidly about his personal life, often with humor.

“When I see people drinking in the audience, it reminds me of myself during COVID lockdown,” he joked. “I had these huge mirrors in my room. Every time I walked by with a bottle, I’d see myself and think, ‘You useless, fat guy!’”

“Take Cover” unfolded with Cotterill repeating a short motif while Martin laid down the harmonic foundation beneath it. The guitar lines painted vast, cinematic landscapes—like humanity first imagining the boundaries of the universe.

“I wanna take cover, take cover from you.”

In that moment, one voice carried the memory of an entire generation.

Between songs, the two musicians tapped their acoustic guitars like percussion instruments. Martin shouted,

“You can drum on the table! You can dance! You can join in!”

He was, unmistakably, still the rock star who knew how to incite a crowd.

Another Mr. Big classic followed.

“Just take my heart when you go, I don’t have the need anymore…”

A song about facing heartbreak with resolve, it paired naturally with “Super Fantastic,” whose lyrics captured a utopian vision of life:

“Everything is beautiful, nothing’s too tragic…”

Such straightforward optimism—so emblematic of its era—feels uniquely Eric Martin in both voice and spirit.

“Thirty years ago, at Paul Gilbert’s guitar class,” Martin recalled, “we were just some unknown young band, sharing rooms. He practiced every day—loud as hell. He always said, ‘Practice makes progress.’ I didn’t buy it back then.”

“Wild World,” arranged around acoustic guitar, highlighted Mr. Big’s long-standing affinity for unplugged performance. Their Live from the Living Room era proved how stripping away amplification reveals the core of a song—lyrics, melody, harmony—the elements that truly endure.

Martin’s humor kept the room laughing, but his emotional switch was immediate when “Goin’ Where the Wind Blows” began. The song felt like sunlight breaking through after rain, moisture and warmth hanging in the air.

“Billy always tells me to write more rock songs,” Martin said. “He wants me to stop with the soft love songs. But he wrote this one himself.”

“If you need a perfect man, I will do my best…”

A testament to love’s transformative power—even for grown-up boys of rock.

Each time a country-tinged guitar appeared, it sounded like a tribute to one of America’s oldest musical languages—beyond race, beyond time.

“The next song is about the booze we drank, the life we lived… about becoming a better version of myself.”

As the declarative guitar riff rang out, Martin stepped forward for a solo. The stage was no longer a challenge to his body—it was second nature, free of fear or hesitation.

Reflecting on his bandmates, Martin shared:

“Billy once struggled to introduce me onstage. But one time he said, ‘If this man hadn’t written all these songs, we’d never have toured the world.’”

Martin hugged him tightly.

The audience responded with audible emotion. Beyond the music, it was the bond between these musicians that resonated most deeply—the belief that friendships can outlast time, and that creating together is a rare kind of romance.

The final song, “To Be With You,” needs little introduction. Mr. Big’s most iconic track celebrates companionship and human connection in its purest form. With its simple arrangement and direct melody, the crowd sang along:

“I’m the one who wants to be with you.”

Martin invited everyone to stand for the closing moment.

Perhaps the most beautiful songs are those that let us drop our inhibitions and sing together. And perhaps the essence of music itself lies in expression—through this shared medium, freely offered, without distinction between you and me.