When Jimmy Page stormed the stage alongside Metallica and Jeff Beck at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, it wasn’t just another all-star jam—it was a resurrection. A moment carved from the raw, electric heart of rock and roll itself. Year after year, the Hall delivers big names and bigger moments, but this one felt divine. Like the skies cracked open and handed fans a front-row seat to history.
Page and Beck—two titans, two Yardbirds—reunited after nearly 50 years, choosing “Train Kept A-Rollin’” as their battleground. It wasn’t just nostalgia. It was fury. It was fire. And it was loud. Page hadn’t touched the song in decades, yet his rhythm work hit like a freight train. The solo? He left it to Beck, saying simply, “It was Jeff’s night.” And in that humble handoff, there was reverence, history, and respect.
Beck, as always, played like he was bending lightning to his will—elegant and untamed. His tone, impossible to imitate. His phrasing, alien. Page, the architect of riff-driven power, stood beside him, grinning like a fan but commanding the stage like the legend he is.
Metallica backed them with muscle and grit, never overshadowing, only amplifying. It felt like the past, present, and future of rock all colliding in one shattering crescendo.
That night wasn’t just a tribute. It was a final chapter. A thunderous, unapologetic goodbye to a guitar giant. Jeff Beck didn’t just play. He soared, one last time, and took a piece of the stage with him.
Rock and roll doesn’t often give you a perfect moment. But that night came close.
RIP, Jeff Beck. The train keeps a-rollin’, but it’s a little quieter without you.
