The Machine’s Pump Volume 19 – #10 – October 2016

As our world unravels, as civil unrest deepens and the rift between left and right widens, as respect for truth and faith in science blow away like fragile particles of dust, we can, at least, all share the amazement at what we’re witnessing. No matter what happens on November 8, the provocateurs who insist on fanning the flames of division will certainly keep the fires alive. I’m stunned by the level of anger all bottled up in some people, ready to explode. It would not surprise me if heads just started popping like popcorn from the sheer heat of internal frustration; if the blood just finally reaches such a boil that literally launching one’s brain into the yard becomes commonplace. Hot heads, indeed! From my perspective, it seems like horrible slimy aliens have taken over the bodies of once-rational humans. Watching the supporters and surrogates of the Republican’s choice is often jaw-dropping. Watching their cliché blank faces and fake half-smiling lips try to spin their “leader’s” words into something not
absurd, has become sort of unbearable. The party of Lincoln presents itself as the party of fear, describing the USA as a wasteland of desperation. There’s no strength displayed or plans for improvement spelled out. It’s just boogieman talk, designed to manipulate the disgruntled and uninformed. But, as a white adult male, the demographic which is belly-aching the most, I just don’t feel threatened by people of other nationalities or cultures or colors or genders or sexual preferences. I worry more about how many gun-totin’ yeehaws are proudly driving souped-up, Confederate-flag-adorned pickups around Denton than how many minorities are getting good jobs. What’s wrong with me?

You know, things change, and often it’s not because of anything other than evolution. Some people see it for what it is and adapt. Some people don’t, for various reasons. I can speak from experience here. The live music scene, worldwide, has transformed itself over and over since the concept of popular music first emerged. In Brave Combo’s lifetime, we’ve seen the landscape shift a few times. If I did things as I did in the 1980s and 1990s and have the same expectations as we did then, there would probably be no Brave Combo in 2016. That was an easy time for bands. They were the coolest things around. There was great public interest in feeding the scene. Distractions like cell phones didn’t exist. Smokers were allowed, so clubs always had core audiences. Going to hear live music wasn’t considered just one of many entertainment options. It was in a category by itself, above everything else. Performers were on pedestals unavailable to the masses. The world, in general, wasn’t so cluttered. But the attitudes and desires of one generation are never the same as the next. And who could have predicted the cultural atomic bomb the computer became, followed by the cell phone, followed by social media. Who could have predicted YouTube stars? None of us knew what to expect until it was too late; until the change was fully upon us. Who could have predicted ISIS or a kid with a gun shooting younger kids at a grade school? Perhaps we have arrived at a place we would never have even wanted to imagine. None-the-less, we are where we are. And now people around the world are shocked at who is running for President of the United States. But should any of us be? As a tribute to the uncontrollable inevitability of change, Brave Combo has started playing our samba, “Nothing is Permanent,” regularly again. The way I see it is if you can’t control it, then dance to it.

Brave Combo has wrapped up an intense two months of polka madness! It’s been polkafest/Oktoberfest heaven, but as I mentioned in the paragraph above, nothing is permanent, so we boldly move on to the next period of fun and excitement. And, for now, that means vacation from live gigs for a while, which also means cleaning up the office and rehearsal space, working on new songs, possible new recordings/videos and catching up on all the office stuff we’ve neglected the last couple of months.

Well, I didn’t see this one coming. I just visited my hometown, Texarkana, as an honored guest. My friend and fellow 1970 Texas High School graduate, Melanie Kusin-Rowe, and I were selected as the Texarkana Independent School District Alumni of the Year for 2016. In September I was floored by my induction into the Polka Hall of Fame, but this sent me through the floor. I wasn’t exactly the most involved student during my formative years. And in high school, I was even sent home a few times for having long hair (it touched my ears and collar). I spent a lot of time dodging the assistant principal. Whatever, there I was, 45 years later, along with Melanie, speaking to middle school and high school student leaders at a 9:00 am breakfast about my oddball career path. Then we spoke again, at the Texarkana Country Club at noon to an audience of fellow graduates and local citizens and civic leaders. Here’s an article from The Texarkana Gazette, after the fact. This was an enormously humbling and, frankly, surreal event for me. Although I moved away in the early 1970s, I remain anchored to my early life and quite protective of East Texas and friends who are still there. I became my current self because of everything that has happened to me. That place and those people are a big part of what I am today. I just wish my parents were still alive. This would have been bigger than a Grammy to them. Bittersweet, for sure.

SWEET, NOT BITTERSWEET. Once upon a time, our buddy, Bonnie Norris, played violin in Brave Combo. She added a cool, exotic sound and it was a special time for the band. She has continued to play music, of course, and has a popular local band with her brother, Nick. They call themselves The Bonnie and Nick Norris Band, which is appropriate. I wonder which one of them came up with that. Anyway, beyond music, Bonnie has established herself as an accomplished and wildly creative bakery chef. She makes incredible stuff and posts tempting photos daily. Check her out on Facebook.

Okay, it’s time to sink into the groove of the lowest vibration; to reflect and rub a dog’s ear. It’s also time to vote and then for everyone to shut up.