1984

Joe Godenzi was one of about two natural athletes in our 80-kid elementary school.  He was an only child and the star pitcher on our baseball team. Mr. Godenzi was our coach, and he was so proud - I could sense that even at age 10 - Mr. Godenzi's life clearly revolved around his son.  He was pretty hard on Joe, expecting him to always stand out as an athlete. I remember Joe crying when our kids baseball team lost a game one time.  I didnt get it then, but of course he was upset for letting down his dad.

I played catcher and I fucking sucked. But our town was so small, to field a team, we all pretty much had to play.  Mr. Godenzi would say: I see you riding your bike all over the place, up hills, far from your house, how come you can't run faster or throw a ball further or make contact with a bat? He was exasperated, but in a tough love kinda way.  He wasnt any harder on me than on his own kid - which, admittedly by today's standards would probably land him in jail or something.  Looking back, it was pretty cool that he expected just as much of me as of Joe. I think he knew my parents didnt follow sports and didnt know how to support me with anything that didnt involve reading writing and arithmetic.

Joe was a year older than me. Van Halen was his favorite band and i remember two weeks before 1984 came out him telling me how rad it would be.  His dad bought him the cassette the day it released and Joe played it nonstop on the little boom box with detachable speakers he brought to school.  I had never even heard of van halen, or really of rocknroll, cause we didnt have cable and my parents listened to showtunes and fucking billie joel's greatest hits.  I went up a grade for math class and I distinctly remember helping Joe, who was not a great student, with long division, and him being so kind to me even though I was the "smart kid" and he was the "sports kid."  We talked about rock music and girls (!) and sports teams I had never heard of.  I remember being so psyched to wear thin grey parachute pants and play on those little narrow plastic skateboards that year, even though my folks wouldn't let me get one.  

Van Halen 1984 was the first cassette my folks let me buy - despite the kid smoking on the cover and the song titles - hot for teacher, drop dead legs - and VH's offstage antics which I think the tv news must have covered incessantly.  Funny how PG it all feels now.   I begged and begged for months.  We made a deal: I could get 1984 if I also bought a jazz cassette.  And because my folks know about as much about music as about sports, I didnt get kind of blue or a love supreme or even glenn miller, but instead ended up with miles' 1983 synth-fusion record Star People.  I honestly tried to understand what the hell that record was up to, and it still holds a weird place in my heart, but of course 1984 got way more headphones time.  I remember my dad, who had played guitar in a folk band, and starred in off-off-broadway musicals, showed no respect for EVH, calling it all just flashy nonsense. "Can he even play the same solo twice?"  To which I responded "why does that even matter?" and "Yes, actually he can."  EVH fucking blew my 10 year old mind.  His leads of course were unlike anything anyone had ever heard.  technical and otherworldly and impossible, but also melodic.  His rhythm guitar was playful and interesting and creative and ballsy - somehow it remains criminally underrated.  VH's lyrics were about sex and parties and booze and all the stuff 10 year old boys want to hear about.  I remember reading rolling stone articles about how eddy didnt party as a kid - he just practiced guitar alone in his room.  I was totally mesmerized, and I honestly still am.

Joe Godenzi died in a skateboard vs car collision in 1988.   I don't think his dad ever recovered from that. I dont listen to Van Halen much, but when I do, it always reminds me of Joe and his dad, and math class and 4th grade crushes, and miles davis's lesser known 80s material, and riding bikes on deserted roads in the summer of 1984 with this half worn out cassette cranking my walkman:  Panama