Joe Walsh Honors Smokey Robinson Ahead of VetsAid 2025 Homecoming in Wichita

When Joe Walsh stepped onto the stage at the VetsAid 2025 benefit concert in Wichita, Kansas, he didn’t just play guitar—he told a story. A story of grief, grace, and the music that saved him. In a raw, unscripted moment before the show, Walsh turned to the crowd and said, "I don’t know what I would have done without Smokey pulling me out of the darkest places. Now that silence has returned, only this time it’s permanent." The crowd fell still. No one clapped. No one cheered. They just listened. Because everyone there knew: this wasn’t just a tribute. It was a farewell.

A Homecoming Built on Loss

Walsh, 77, the Joe Walsh who rose to fame with the Eagles and later carved his own path as a solo artist, was born in Wichita. His father, a U.S. Army sergeant, died in active duty when Walsh was just 20 months old. He never met him. His mother, who raised him on a modest military pension, buried her husband in the same city where she was born—and where she’d be laid to rest decades later. "It’s where my parents were both born and are buried," Walsh told reporters during a press conference on August 1, 2024. "It’s where I was born. And it’s where I’ll always feel responsibility." That responsibility led to VetsAid, which Walsh founded in 2017. Since then, the nonprofit has raised over $4 million for veterans’ service organizations. The 2024 event was canceled due to "extraordinary circumstances"—a quiet nod to Walsh’s own health struggles and grief. But in 2025, he returned. "Better than ever," he promised.

The Sound That Pulled Him Through

The emotional centerpiece of Walsh’s tribute wasn’t a guitar solo—it was his words about Smokey Robinson. The Motown legend, now 84, didn’t just write timeless hits like "My Girl" and "Tears of a Clown." He was, in Walsh’s words, a lifeline. "When I was drowning in alcohol and regret in the ’80s," Walsh recalled in a Rolling Stone interview referenced in November 2024, "I’d put on Smokey’s voice. It didn’t fix me. But it reminded me I was still human." Robinson, who retired from touring in 2022, never knew the full extent of his impact on Walsh. But Walsh did. And now, with Robinson’s health declining, the silence is permanent. "Not chasing fame," Walsh said, "but simply doing what he was born to do. For him, each show was a final reaffirmation." That same ethos guides Walsh’s own journey. His 1974 album So What was written after his daughter Emma died in a car crash. His 1992 release Songs for a Dying Planet felt like a goodbye. But neither was. He kept playing. He kept writing. He kept showing up—for music, for veterans, for the memory of a father he never knew.

The Lineup That Feels Like Family

The VetsAid 2025 concert on November 15 at INTRUST Bank Arena isn’t just a show. It’s a reunion. Vince Gill, Walsh’s fellow Eagle, will perform. So will Ryan Bingham, whose raw, outlaw country sound mirrors Walsh’s own grit. Susan Tedeschi and Derek Trucks, the powerhouse blues duo, have family roots in Wichita. And Nathaniel Rateliff, whom Walsh calls "magnificent," will close the night with a haunting rendition of "I Need Never Get Old." The surprise? A duet with Jimmy Webb, the legendary songwriter of "Wichita Lineman." Webb posted a rehearsal video on Facebook: "It was an honor to make a surprise visit to Wichita last night for Joe Walsh’s VetsAid benefit. God Bless Joe for all he does to help out the vets."

Auctioning His Past to Fund the Future

Beyond the concert, Walsh is auctioning over 800 personal items—guitars, stage outfits, handwritten lyrics, even his childhood baseball glove—in a December 2025 sale. "I’ve collected too much stuff," he said in a press release. "Now I want people to have a piece of it. And I want that piece to help veterans." Proceeds from the auction, like those from the concert, will flow exclusively to Kansas-based veteran organizations. The vetting process is managed by the Combined Arms Institute, with grant applications open at vetsaid.org/grants.

Why This Matters

Walsh’s story isn’t just about music or charity. It’s about the quiet, unspoken debt we owe to those who carried us when we couldn’t carry ourselves. Smokey Robinson didn’t know he was saving a rock star. Walsh didn’t know his father’s death would become the seed for a movement. But here they are: a man who lost his father as a baby, now giving back to the families who lost theirs in wars he never fought.

War is hell," Walsh wrote on his website. "I stopped counting the number of friends I lost in Vietnam… We’ve only just begun to appreciate the long-term impacts on our troops from Iraq and Afghanistan." This concert isn’t about nostalgia. It’s about legacy. And for Joe Walsh, in his hometown, on a November night, it’s finally home.