Okay! Everyone listen up. There is no returning to what was “normal.” Period. There is only now, as it is, and the mystery of the future, which will probably be dominated by challenges we haven’t yet imagined. Trying to hang on to almost any comfort-zone mindsets we once enjoyed, is pretty futile. The cracks and obstructions are in each of us and all of us. We’ve all changed and “returning to normal” just sounds like a pitifully sad plea from the darkness; lost, because the old maps are, well, old! Even before we actually partied like it was 1999, in 1999, I could feel a shift in how the public was perceiving music. Then, on September 11, 2001, a lot changed, of course, and one could feel the reverberations for a very long time. However, from a musical “crisis/opportunity” point-of-view, a lot of new “exotic” sounds were thrust upon the United States, as myriad cultures clashed/mingled and the world’s interest focused on the Middle East. I could really bore you, pointing out all the fully-accepted mainstream pop elements we hear today which almost never entered our ears before 9/11. So, musically, our lives were enhanced by the tragedies of that day. Man, that was a bad way to introduce a style of music to the American mainstream. But, quite effective, in the long run.

More recently, due to social media and generally changing attitudes, the lines between artists/musicians and the public have blurred such that, in some cases, they’ve blended. This presents new dilemmas for those who create whatever. Why does one create, for instance? If it’s all just a popularity contest and those who snooker the most followers determine the sounds we all hear, well, this is the same stupid battle Brave Combo has been involved in for, literally, decades, but on steroids. Every musician who aspires to reach beyond his or her home base, faces unbelievable obstacles. Just imagine. And part of that forced enlightenment includes a lot of time on stage, when one assumes/convinces oneself that one is worthy of being there, with people staring and listening. So, what does one do when one becomes suspicious of the old models?

I have so much new stuff (content, as the newbies say) to throw out there and I am very excited about a good percentage of it. BUT, how do I present it? Clubs are great. I’ve grown up and old in them. I know exactly how most of them smell during the day. I adore many of them and the people who work there. But, first of all, most are indoors and we are, once again, entering the Covid danger zone. Grrrr! So, between now and the onslaught of festivals and big concerts in the Fall, we will be releasing more videos/new music than you will want to hear. A ridiculous amount. You can enjoy/examine it, based on your level of interest in how the crazy brains of Brave Combo work. Everything is going to change a little or a lot. It’s time!

And speaking of change AND the onslaught of Autumn gigs, get ready for THE BRAVE COMBO ULTIMATE POLKA EXPERIENCE. Starting in August, if you attend one of our shows, you will hear some things you never heard before. Why should we hold back? What’s the point? Why keep the radical notions inside our heads? Why not reveal what we know? Feels like now or never, right? And it’s not the time to be subtle. So, open your eyes and ears and try to understand what’s going on, in the big picture. Are you Eloi or Morlock? Is there anything in the middle? Should there be? Brave Combo has always been a misfit band, full of misfit musicians. We function well in uncomfortable/disorienting environments because we can only be outsiders. That’s all we know. So, we’re up for whatever, because we have no preconceived notions. Dig?

In the earliest days of Brave Combo, we played in New York City a lot and one of our favorite clubs was Hurrah! Everything about it was almost perfect, from the friendly staff and crew to the stage and production quality. We were even invited to Hurrah one evening, by Kurt Loder of ROLLING STONE and MTV, to attend an album release party for The Lounge Lizards. I met Brian Eno there and he knew about Brave Combo and our album, MUSIC FOR SQUARES, and gave me the impression he did not care for it much, but he shook my hand and was cordial. I was just happy to be there and to feel like we were part of a new movement. I had no idea what was to follow. This was in 1980. Sadly, another of my vivid memories about Hurrah! is that the booking person/beloved visionary for the club, Ruth Polski, was hit and killed by a NYC cab a short time later and we never went back. The soul of the venue departed. Of course, we’ve continued to perform in NYC regularly, all over that big ol’ place (well, before Covid), but Hurrah! still stands out as a very special spot. Then, out of the blue, this video shows up on YouTube. It’s Tim, Lyle, Dave (now Lisa), and myself, playing a revved-up version of Arthur Murray’s “Learning the Cha Cha,” at Hurrah! and we rocked it! Wow! What a trip! Check it out. I guess someone from the club has released a bunch of videos from their archives. Maybe more Brave Combo will surface!

Okay, I hope you are confused, but intrigued. Keep an eye on our itinerary and make your plans. Now, here’s a very funny joke!

Joke of the Month
Oldster: We need to return to the good ol’ days, I tell ya. When I was a teenager. Everything was perfect. Shoulda stayed like that.

Youngster: Uh, no internet? No cellphone? That sounds great.

Oldster: Hell, Yeah! We had MY MOTHER, THE CAR!

Wow, this has been quite a weekend of recognizing and celebrating minorities in Denton. There was a massive LGBTQ Pride Day event on the square and a big ol’ Gospel concert at Fred Moore Park for Juneteenth and, of course, it’s Father’s Day, when boomers post that photo of dad in his WW2 uniform. Those photos remind us all how often Father’s Day rolls around, which reminds us all how short a year is. Jane and I did discover no one dines at Panera on Father’s Day. We had the place to ourselves, baby! And we rocked it! By the time we left, the joint was in shambles, from us having so much unbridled fun. Not to complain, but I must complain about the iced tea at Panera. It all tastes like flowers. I love flowers, but I don’t eat or drink them, although I know some people do. But flowers are not even on the menu at Panera. They just sneak flowers into their tea and it tastes like Flonase smells. It’s always an expensive disappointment, every time I foolishly get their iced tea, hoping the flowers will be gone. But they’re always there. So I dump the tea and get a Coke. Nope, they have Pepsi. Oh, well. Otherwise, it’s a fine place to eat. I’m sure you’ve been there.

As you may or may not know, I grew up in Texarkana, Texas; a medium-sized city straddling the tips of northeast Texas and southwest Arkansas. Texarkana is one city in two states, but it’s actually two cities which share a name. Whatever, that bizarre reality was normal to me. As was being a Southern Baptist in the south. 100% normal. My father even worked at our church, First Baptist. We were at church all the time. I was even named after the then-current president of the Southern Baptist Convention, Carl Bates. I experienced years and years of Sunday School and Prayer Meeting and mountains of sermons and hymns and myriad choir practices and performances. I was there, right in the middle of a whole lot. And, although it was required that my brother, Jimmy, and I go to church, I generally had an okay time. Getting up early (before about 10am) always sucked for me, no matter what I had to do, and it hurts as much now as it did any Sunday morning when I was a kid. Brave Combo’s had to perform for a few morning news shows during our career and it was never fun. When we’re on the road, we never check out before noon, unless there is no way around the motel’s or hotel’s policy. But, between you and me, there is almost always a way, and I will find it, for that extra hour of sleep. Jeez, I go to bed between 3:00 and 4:00am. How can I check out at 11:00? That is inhumane. Hey everyone, FYI, night is a cool time of the day, mainly because most people are unconscious! Anyway, the fellowship/socializing part of church was okay. It was a big place, so there were lots of cute girls my age. I did try to pay attention to the life’s lessons I was supposed to learn, whether in Sunday School or big church, but my mind wandered a lot. So, during big church my mother gave me tablets of paper and pencils, to keep me occupied. None-the-less, I contend I heard and internalized most of what was being explained to us by the Biblical scholars of Northeast Texas. And a bunch of it made sense (love your enemy, don’t throw stones, pride and prejudice are bad, turn the other cheek) and much of it makes sense today. I was taught, in a Southern Baptist church, mind you, that much of the Bible is not literal. Rather, parables, designed to explain or teach lessons. I also heard that we were not to brag about our inner peace and joy. We were just supposed to live in such a way that no one else could exist without whatever magic we were supposed to exude, because we were so sure of our salvation, it made all things Earthly, like money, possessions, and power, somewhat irrelevant. I also remember hearing, over and over, that once Jesus hit the scene, the Old Testament became simply history and was no longer a reliable source of information on how to live with others. Ultimately, I realized, no matter where I was or am, I’m an outsider and a tribe like church, in particular, just didn’t fit my being. But, although I left the flock, I still had lots of friends and family involved and I trusted their interpretations of the Cosmos for themselves, because I believed their bottom line would be similar to mine; that all people should be equal because, above all, our pathway to enlightenment depends on our ability to not judge others. Jesus said it, Buddha said it, Mohammed probably said it, the god of common sense says it to us today. Atheists and devout Christians can come to the same conclusions about how to get along with, and benefit from, each other.

Believe it or not, we can think for ourselves because we already know the truth, when it comes to the big picture. Now, it seems, most “Christians” in our “great” country are the very angry, pride-infested “God and Guns” style. If that isn’t the case, I hear almost nothing from an opposing point-of-view, so I must assume, this is where Christianity in America has landed, which seems pretty far from all that Prince of Peace stuff, to me. Where is that radical, WE’RE TAKING BACK JESUS, movement inside all of the so-called houses of worship? Just thinking out loud here. Sorry if it’s coming off judgmental.

Hey, Brave Combo is doing some weird stuff every Wednesday evenings in June at Red’s Yard, in quaint little Denton, in-person and live-streaming, so you can witness it, no matter where you are, theoretically. No promises are made, concerning what you might see or hear. We might be acceptable, perhaps even intriguing, or we might just suck. Check our itinerary for details.

I have much more to say about lots of topics, but I can’t in good faith, take up more of your time. Have a fab month and, remember, think for yourself. Sorry this is so long.