Patsy Porco

Posts Tagged ‘music’

Van Halen Love

In love, Rock 'N' Roll, Van Halen on October 14, 2020 at 4:28 pm

This post was written by my son, Luke Porco, who is a huge fan of Van Halen. I know it will touch your heart.

The Bond Between a Rockstar and His Son

by Luke Porco

It has been just over a week since Eddie Van Halen passed away, leaving a void as impactful as one of his trademark solos. A guitar wizard, he truly was one of a kind and transcended the rock music world by creating Van Halen, one of the most popular and legendary rock bands in history, and also innovating how the guitar is played by popularizing techniques such as two-handed finger tapping and dive bombs, as well as his classic tone, commonly known amongst guitarists as “brown sound,” which can be identified as soon as you hear one of Van Halen’s classic songs, like “Panama,” “Ain’t Talkin’ Bout Love,” “Unchained” and “Hot for Teacher,” among others. He influenced generations of guitarists at every level, from those in successful bands to those who play casually, like me.

Since I was a kid, the guitar was always the “cool” instrument in my eyes, and I remember being around 10 years old, sitting in the car with my dad, and hearing a song on the radio, and thinking to myself, “That’s a cool band! Cool guys probably listen to that band!” I then asked my dad who the band was, only for him to reply, “Van Halen.” Without either of us knowing at the time, that moment would later develop into a lifelong obsession for a guitarist that would motivate me to learn the guitar and a band we would see together three times, including my first concert!

Fast forward five years later, and I’m developing my passion for the guitar, and all I can talk about is Van Halen, and how awesome Eddie Van Halen is, probably to my dad’s annoyance! I also had been fervently wanting to go to a concert, as they seemed like the next step to develop as a music fan. Van Halen was playing a concert at Madison Square Garden May 23, 2008, four days after my birthday, so months ahead of that show, I discretely (or so I thought at the time!) planted the seeds to tell my dad about that show and how awesome it would be for my first concert. So on my birthday, as I opened gifts that day, I opened my last gift, only for it to be…TWO VAN HALEN TICKETS!! I remember jumping up and down and diving into my dad’s arms, elated that we would be getting to see my new favorite band! That night was an epic one, as we drove from my guitar lesson in CT (guitar lesson to a Van Halen concert-how awesome!) into New York City for the concert. Saying I was excited was an understatement, as I even burned a CD with Van Halen’s hits to listen to on the ride there that by the third go-around on the CD, my dad suggested maybe we stop listening to keep the music fresh once we see it live! Once we walked into The Garden to see them, my life was never the same, as I saw a guitar legend playing face-melting solos and hits, as well as David Lee Roth’s reunion into the band and, last but certainly, not least, Eddie’s son, Wolfgang, on bass! While Van Halen’s music, with Eddie’s guitar playing, Alex Van Halen’s powerful drumming, and David Lee Roth’s howling vocals and boisterous stage presence sold me on Van Halen, another aspect that really hit home for me was the fact that Eddie and Wolfgang, father and son, were in a band together. Seeing how tight their bond was for years to come really reminded me of my dad and I and how we bonded together in the audience, as well as any time a Van Halen song came on in the future! From then on, I always equated Eddie and Wolfgang’s relationship to my relationship with my dad, as it was similar in some ways. Eddie was the star that Wolfgang idolized and shaped his life after, and Wolfgang was the sparkplug that kept Eddie going and developed a new passion for himself.

That night was only the beginning of my Van Halen fandom, and there were more Van Halen concerts, as well as plenty of music, books, t-shirts, guitar picks, and more Van Halen merchandise to follow in my future. In January 2012, around the announcement of Van Halen’s new album A Different Kind of Truth, word got out that Van Halen was playing an invite-only show at Cafe Wha? in Greenwich Village, a famous rock club, which was owned by David Lee Roth’s uncle, Manny. While I wasn’t going to drag my dad along to that, there was no way I was going to miss out on this, as I figured there would be a group of loyal VH fans surrounding the club, to hear the concert from the outside, hopefully. While I wasn’t completely confident that this would be the case, I decided to take a chance and go anyway. As I walked to Cafe Wha?, I noticed that I had nothing to worry about, as the tiny street was flooded with Van Halen fans waiting for the “Mighty Van Halen” media, all waiting for the show to start, and media waiting to see it live and upfront! After waiting for hours in negative temperatures, outside of a club where I wasn’t even sure I’d hear the show or see them emerge from the performance, I suddenly see a group of people huddled behind a steel barricade, where I could hear music! I quickly mad-dashed to that group and was suddenly taken to paradise! A group of fellow die-hard Van Halen fans, singing along to every word, and bonding amongst ourselves, what could be better? Oh I know, being feet away from the band as they walked into an SUV after the show! Eddie and I locked eyes as he walked out of the club, a moment that stills blows me away, and I saw the rest of the band follow him out. That moment lasted no more than 30 seconds, but the memory that I literally saw Eddie Van Halen will last forever! This was a great night, especially since at the time, I didn’t know many Van Halen fans besides myself. This leads me to two months later, Van Halen at Madison Square Garden, Part 2!

Getting to see Van Halen as my first concert with my dad was a dream come true, so I had to do it again. This time, I returned the favor to my dad and got the tickets for HIS birthday! Before we went to the show, we met up with my dad’s childhood friend, Lenny, and his brother, Charlie. They also happened to be die-hard Van Halen fans, and played drums and guitar, respectively, a la Alex and Eddie! I met these two guys and could not believe that my dad was friends who had even more Van Halen knowledge than me, and I was shocked and amazed! The four of us had so much fun having dinner at the same restaurant my dad and I had before the first Van Halen show, and it was great seeing my dad relive his memories with these guys growing up in the Bronx, as well as introducing more Van Halen fans to me in the process! This also grew a bond between Lenny and me, which we still have to this day, and talk about how amazing that night was, as well as the final time I saw Van Halen, at Jones Beach, this time with my mom and uncle, as well.

The third and final show had more meaning than I could have ever known at the time. That show, my dad and I sat next to each other, just like tradition, however this time, it was from the seats at Jones Beach, overlooking the ocean and the beach behind the stage. What I didn’t know at the time was not only would this be the final Van Halen concert I’d ever see, but also the last concert I’d see with my dad, as months later, he was diagnosed with kidney disease, and in 2019, passed away. His loss was, and still is, absolutely devastating, and the memory of our bond over Van Halen, among other things, will never leave me. When Eddie died last Tuesday, it almost felt like I went through the same grief process, as Eddie Van Halen was to Wolfgang, what my dad was to me: a Rockstar! I was in absolute shock and depression, and I know Wolfgang is going through the same thing.

While I personally don’t know Wolfgang, I hope he knows that I, along with the rest of Van Halen’s fanbase, are praying for him, Alex, Eddie’s wife, Janie, and the whole Van Halen family. Eddie made such an impact on everyone’s life, even if you didn’t play guitar, even if you had the slightest idea of rock music, chances are you know who Eddie Van Halen is, from his groundbreaking guitar virtuosity, to Van Halen’s classic songs that will remain timeless, and also, the joy he had every time you saw him play live. He always had a smile on his face while jumping and running on stage and doing his signature jump while doing a split in the air. That is just one of many reasons why he and Van Halen ooze coolness, and their legacy will carry on forever, as will his special bond with Wolfgang, which will always remind me of my dad.

God Bless Eddie Van Halen and Frank Porco, two awesome dudes who I hope are together in spirit, Eddie doing a solo, while my dad rocks out and celebrates in the crowd, just like old times.

Who’s To Say?

In Humor on August 3, 2013 at 1:41 pm

Back when I was young and idealistic, I tried to do the occasional good. (I wasn’t fanatically idealistic.)

For a few years, I worked in radio and, once a week, I would go to a makeshift studio in downtown Columbus, Ohio, and read the day’s newspaper to the blind listening audience. Some of them knew of me from listening to WCOL-AM, where I cohosted a middle-of-the-night call-in talk show on Saturday nights. I also manned the control board from Sunday through Thursday. In truth, that shift wasn’t an on-air one. I was supposed to air talk-radio programs and live sporting events. After those ended, the station aired syndicated programming.

But, in the middle of the night, my bosses weren’t listening, so sometimes I would play music and chatter on-air. I had a small following of a handful of people who would call off-air and keep me awake through the long night.

I also brought a pillow and an alarm clock, for nights when I chose to actually do my job as prescribed. On those occasions, I would sleep on the floor behind the board while the automated shows and commercials played. My alarm clock would get me up to play the news at the top of the hour. Then, I’d go back to sleep, unless I felt like doing a live music show.

So, to return to my original topic: I would read to the blind once a week. A few dozen people each volunteered one day a week. We worked in pairs, and read the daily newspaper until we finished it. It was a small operation and I’m not really sure how our audience heard us. I think they had special receivers.

When I moved to Manhattan, I signed up to read to the blind, but this time, it was competitive. I was only able to get fill-in shifts because of the demand for shifts by aspiring actors. They were cutthroat about getting on-air time, so I quickly lost interest in the cause.

My sister’s boyfriend accused me of only doing it so that I could say that I did. Was he right? Maybe. It was an interesting thing to bring up when talking to people I knew, or strangers on the bus. They always looked very impressed at how altruistic I was. So, maybe I wasn’t so altruistic, after all.

Now that I’m older and less idealistic, I know that I sometimes do things for a self-serving reason, even if I’m not aware of it. So, if you’re my friend, you should know that I’ve always wanted a full church at my funeral Mass. If my death precedes yours, I would appreciate your attendance. That’s not the only reason I’m your friend, but it’s one of them.

I’m just kidding. Or am I serious? Who’s to say? I surely don’t know.

A Really Crummy Day

In Driving, Humor on February 2, 2013 at 7:30 pm

“I’m dying,” I thought. “Every bone in my body is in agonizing pain. I must have bone cancer.” This was going through my head while I slept last night. I think I remember kneeling up on my mattress and doing yoga to relieve the pain. I could have dreamed that I assumed the child’s pose to stretch out my back, though. I suppose I’ll never know. If I did, I don’t think it did much for the pain, because I recall that, after doing it, or dreaming that I was doing it, my spine and all of the radiating bones were still on fire.

I also had a very sick stomach. I had gone to bed at 4 p.m. because of my stomach distress. I didn’t wake up for 19 hours, except to assume the child’s pose, if I did, and scare the wits out of my husband. I’m fairly certain that I picked up the stomach bug at the house where I babysit young children. They all had it on Wednesday and I got it on Friday; a two-day incubation period sounds reasonable. While the mother of the children assured me that she had wiped down the entire house with Lysol, she didn’t count on my kissing them. If I got the virus from them, it was my own fault. I just love kissing babies. Kissing sick babies, however, is just not a good idea.

But, back to my midnight musings: Because I had a sick stomach and exquisite pain (I’ve always wanted to use that phrase) in my spine, arms, legs, ribs, neck, and shoulders, I added possible heart attack to my bone-cancer self-diagnosis. Earlier that day, I had taken a CPR class, so I knew what the symptoms of a heart attack were. In my unconscious state, I deduced from my various symptoms that I was on my way out. Considering the pain that I was in, this was not an unwelcome thought.

Around 4 a.m., I went downstairs into the guest room to visit my husband, who had the sense not to sleep with someone who had a stomach bug. He jumped out of bed from fright, and after composing himself, he asked how I was. I told him that I was sick. Very sick. Oh-so-sick.  Then I left the room, according to him. I don’t remember much of this visit, except that I didn’t do yoga.  What I do recall is that during the time that I was prowling the house, the pain in my spine and numerous bones started to recede. By the time I had made it back upstairs, it was gone. I still had a stomach ache, but the bone cancer had cured itself.

Over the years, I have learned to accomplish things while sleeping. I often come up with ideas for my blog, invent things, create uses for tortilla shells, and recall old grudges. Last night, I solved a problem. I realized that my bones probably ached from the wind coming in through the windows behind my bed. So, I propped a bunch of pillows against the headboard and slept upside down, under a mass of blankets and comforters. In a matter of minutes, I was sleeping like a baby with a stomach ache.

Before I drifted into a heavy sleep, I remember being glad that I didn’t have bone cancer, and probably wasn’t having a heart attack. I also concluded that both my stomach virus and my inflamed bones could have been avoided. I should have worn a mask around the sick kids (or, at the very least, not kissed them), and I should have covered my draughty windows. I also should have read the directions that came with my GPS.

As I mentioned, I had taken a CPR class that morning. The class was half an hour away from my house. I planned on using my GPS to get there, but for once, I had a backup plan: I printed out directions. Why I did this is a mystery to me. I have never had a problem with my GPS before, but someone from the Great Beyond must have whispered “Google Maps” into my ear. And, it was a good thing that I didn’t disregard the Heavenly suggestion.

So, I got into the car, plugged in the GPS, and clicked on the screen that made me swear that I would not touch the GPS while I was driving. I then started the car while the GPS was powering up (I didn’t lie to the GPS; I planned on entering my destination when I was stopped at a red light).  As I drove toward the highway, an ear-piercing whistling sound emitted from the device. While driving, I fumbled with the switch on the top of the screen to shut it off, but the screeching continued. I ripped the power cord out, with the same result: the high-pitched whine would not stop.

I was now at the highway entrance and couldn’t pull over. The only thing to do was to shove the GPS between my thighs and keep my legs as tightly closed as possible. This lessened the noise a bit, but not enough. So, I scanned the radio stations until I found one that was playing rap music and played it full-blast. Every once in a while, I could hear the whining of the GPS, so I had to retighten my thighs. This was all done while reading the directions that were propped on the steering wheel.

By the time that I reached the American Red Cross building, my nerves were frayed.  After I parked, I looked at the switch on the GPS screen. I fumbled with it again and the noise still wouldn’t stop. Then I held the switch in the Off position for a few seconds. When I released it, all that I heard was blessed silence. While I was grateful that the thing finally shut off, it was annoying to realize that I could have avoided half an hour of electronic whining, loud rap music, and cramps in my thighs, if I had only learned in advance how to turn off the GPS.

After the class, I went home, became violently ill and went to bed. That’s where this story started, and that’s a good place to end it.

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