Okay, I know everyone is sick of this topic. But seriously, if you love music, and live music, in particular, or theater or fine art events or sports or movies or anything which involves people gathering to experience and enjoy the creative efforts of your fellow humans, presented in community environments, please get vaccinated. You don’t have to be in the grip of so much fear. You don’t have to be hiding in the darkness of conspiracies and cults. Almost no good ever comes from a bunch of freaked-out folks who are ready to blame everything and anything for the shortcomings in their own lives. If people are joined together by common grievances and no one is ever offering logical solutions, it’s probably a good idea to find some new friends; some people who will, at least, point out the value of science. I guess it’s just too easy if there’s simply not enough worthwhile stuff going on in one’s life, to follow the laziest path and look for answers in obviously stupid places. It is super easy to place one’s butt in front of the computer or to pick up one’s phone, pretty much anytime, anywhere, and let all the available random “valuable” info fill one’s brain and get one all riled-up. This takes very little physical or mental effort, yet the reward is immediate and fulfilling, like sugar or heroin. In fact, this is the easiest way to avoid actual enlightenment, as one feels only empty “a-ha” moments. Whatever, I didn’t mean to veer from my original directive. Just go get the shot or shots. Jeez, they’re available everywhere now. Your excuses can only be ignorance or selfishness. You are either too dumb or too uncaring of others. A healthy community is the only way art and music and entertainment can exist for the masses. Don’t deny this to others. Don’t be a scaredy cat! I live with a few real scaredy cats, so I know of what I speak. If you come to my house, please don’t move too quickly, don’t talk too loudly, and don’t make any sudden movements! A couple of our cats can’t even handle us carrying a large box into a room. Yet, those same cats think it’s just fine to chase each other through the house at lightning speed anytime they want, occasionally breaking things. I’m talking to you Spot and Dot!

When I was in the 7th or 8th grade a friend asked me if I would be interested in forming a band with three other guys. This was at the request of a man named Mr. Kitchens. I don’t know where Mr. Kitchens came from or how my friend knew him, but this didn’t sound like a rock band. The only other kid I can remember being involved was my friend, Larry Head, who played flute. And Mr. Kitchens wasn’t interested in me playing guitar or piano. He wanted me to play French Horn. So, Larry and I showed up at Mr. Kitchens’ house one afternoon, with our flute and French Horn and there were two other guys there who I think I did know, but just can’t remember. And I don’t remember what instruments they played. So, there were us four young boys gathered at Mr. Kitchen’s house. He looked pretty old and said a few things. Then told us he wanted form a group of young musicians who would play songs like, “Red Roses for a Blue Lady.” I believe he had sheet music for everyone. It was a bad idea. Squarer than square and damn bizarre. At that point my interest completely drained, and I realized I was just in a weird man’s house and wanted out. I’ll never know what Mr. Kitchens’ true motives were. Was he a musical visionary or just a dirty old man? Could have been either or both.

In the earliest days of Brave Combo, we got to know many famous rock music journalists of the day. Most of them lived in New York, Chicago, or Los Angeles. But, through working with Joe King Carrasco’s manager, Joe Nick Patoski, I met Ed Ward, who was living in Austin and was the main music writer/critic for the Austin American-Statesman. He liked Brave Combo and once or twice invited us to his house to eat some hot food. Over the years we would touch base, and he even took us on a private tour of East Berlin while he lived in Germany, working for The Wall Street Journal. Indeed, Ed was gruff and loud and overtly opinionated, but he always made me laugh and I got a few chuckles out of him, too. I guess you know where this is going. Ed died recently. As I’m writing this, I don’t know the reason for his death. I heard he was alone, at home. His support in the early days of Brave Combo, along with other writers/critics, like Joe Nick, Lester Bangs, Kurt Loder, and John Morthland, helped us tremendously in our attempts to reach wider audiences and I deeply appreciate it. RIP, Ed!

As I’ve mentioned before, Brave Combo is starting to play a little, here and there, and most of the venues are outdoors. However, about mid-August, our calendar goes full-on and we will back to playing 2-4 times a week until early November. Then I anticipate a crazy December. I must admit, I haven’t hated living with almost no serious obligations for over a year. I’ve enjoyed waking up day after day without thinking about gig issues and details. A lot goes into a Brave Combo show and a lot depends on us being reliable. We gotta deliver the goods and it can be stressful. Although I don’t like cleaning litter boxes, it’s been nice to have that be the big obligation of the day. And, like you, I have to face the fact that I didn’t make as many home improvements that I’d planned and now my abundant free time is about to dwindle. Long-distance touring won’t happen for a while, but if you don’t live near Texas and you must get your BC fix, come on down. The calendar will soon be full of options and it’s a lot easier for you to come to us than vice-versa. And you know we’re worth it!

As you emerge from your cocoon, keep Brave Combo in mind. And, believe it or not, the future is brighter than you might think! And don’t forget to, occasionally, laugh at the insanity.

Welcome back, to another installment of WHY AM I DOING THIS? See, Brave Combo started out as a band, which simply made music, and played gigs for a long, long time. Gigs all over the place, including many very unusual locations. Too many to even fathom, actually. Countless people, faces, shadowy figures and weird morphing shapes. Everything was crucial, but funny. We had to take ourselves seriously, yet we better not dare. It has always felt like the whole thing could just stop at any moment. So, when COVID-19 hit, 42 years after the band began, I said, “I knew it!” The immediate ending of our live music shows wasn’t exactly as I’d expected, though. I thought the world surely would have had enough of us by the mid-1980s. Six or seven years would have been a good run for bands in those days. Well, as it turned out, nothing better came along and people just kept on enticing us to do this and that, here and there. And we had no real plan, ever. Our big strategy was to do well enough at whatever venue to be invited back. And we worked it. All bands, at our level, all over the world were working it. There was a network of alternative music, which, somehow, managed to thrive and stay in touch with everyone else in the “scene.” During the first fifteen years of Brave Combo, this was all accomplished, mind you, without even a cell phone, not to mention the internet and GPS. Fax machines came into common use right as we were starting to travel overseas. That was exciting, corresponding with promoters around the world, via a magic communication portal. But the craziest thing was that people wanted to bring us to their events and not only pay us, but cover our travel expenses, too. What? Really?

So, the train just kept on rolling. New musicians hopped on board. Some stayed, some had to get off, some got off and jumped back on board. And the idea, the concept, kept expanding and its reach grew longer and wider. We dug deeper into both the sorta mainstream hipster world and the vast and varied polka world and on occasion they collided, but were usually on two different planets and that reality remains so today. And, speaking of today, here we are, approaching the middle of 2021 and the rules couldn’t be more skewed. Live music is a little abused puppy right now, scared to move in any direction and pretty insecure about its future. And who can blame it for being so sad and frightened? Even before the pandemic, if you can remember, live music was in a downward spiral. The audiences everywhere were dwindling, for myriad reasons, but mainly because there was simply too much of too much. Life had evolved into one big distraction, with the notion of actually taking the time to go to a club for a couple of hours, increasingly less likely. Plus, musical artists started oozing out of every pore. YouTube, Facebook, you know. You’ve heard of those things, right? Whatever, stuff happened and humans moved forward in the ways they were inclined to move and that’s where we are. Which brings me back to my original point. Why am I doing this? And, indeed, I have asked myself this over and over for decades. But the question is more poignant now, right here, right now, because nothing can be defined anymore, not even the question. The virtual world is as big as the physical world, maybe bigger. Our ability to manipulate perceptions is falling all over itself with possibilities. As I’ve been saying, it’s a cartoon world and anyone can write the storyboard because anything is possible either in reality or in someone’s belief structure. And oddly enough, I find myself strangely comfortable with this screwed-up mess. A lot of it fits my brain. And that’s why I keep doing this. The big picture of Brave Combo just fits my brain. I like things topsy-turvy. I want and expect every day to be entertaining in unexpected ways. Normal has never much fun for me, even when I was a kid. If it was popular, I tended to shy away from it, figuring if too many people were into it, there had to be something wrong. You know that song, “Candy Man?” Didn’t you wonder how so many people could possibly love it or even like it just a tiny bit? I finally figured out Brave Combo is a constant outsider. We never really fit and that often makes us the perfect fit. Whatever, that big ol’ future ahead of us is unwritten and ain’t waiting around for you to add words to the script, so it’s best to roll like crazy with the “insanity” and never take yourself too seriously, unless you’re driving a car or something like that. You still have to be responsible, no matter what, or people will not like you.

Speaking of such things, I have been writing in the previous two newsletters about THE POINT. My focus has been on the Golden Rule and what it really means. Boil it down. Why are we being told not to judge people? To cut to the chase, this has nothing to do with being nice to others. It has to do with not closing doors on yourself. Simple. It’s about you, not them. So, if you care to continue trying to make sense of this, here is the next and final step.

EXERCISE #2:
Stop using the words “Good,” “Bad,” “Right” and “Wrong.” Try to completely stop using those four words and any other words which imply black and white judgment. Don’t voice them at all, ever, under any circumstances. Figure out different ways to express how you feel. Do this for as long as you can. A year or two should work. That’s it. Super easy, yet super difficult. You must be completely devoted to the exercise, without questioning it. Just do it. If you can pull it off, you’ll be amazed! Okay, enough of that weird-ass evangelizing. Back to business.

Brave Combo is actually playing an actual real live normal gig soon. Check our itinerary, if you don’t believe me. It’s The National Polka Festival in Ennis, Texas. We will be performing in the enormous, and well-ventilated, Sokol Hall on Sunday, May 30. Get vaccinated and come on out! Social distancing will be enforced, of course, and masks will still be encouraged. So, let’s get our temperatures checked at the door and POLKA (with someone you know very well)!! Sounds like a party to me! I hope everyone in Brave Combo still knows all the songs. We’ll see, won’t we? Admit it, though, it would be more entertaining if we were screwing up right and left and forgetting stuff and scratching our heads a lot, right? Well, there’s a chance. Remember, the future is unwritten.