Volume 17 – #1 – January 2014

BEFORE NOW. Apparently a lot happened 50 years ago, give or take a year on either side. President Kennedy was assassinated, The Civil Rights March on Washington happened, The Twist happened and, of course, The Beatles happened. I think I was in the 5th grade at Highland Park Elementary School when everyone went mop top nuts. I remember Cary Patterson and one or two other kids wearing Beatle wigs to school and I believe the principal immediately banned them. I thought it looked good on Cary. It upped his hipness factor considerably. I wanted one, too, but never got one, for some reason. Maybe I realized it would never really be my hair and decided I would just eventually grow my own.

By this time I was already hooked on pop music; buying records and listening to KTFS-AM spin the hits as much as possible. My older brother, Jimmy, was into it also. He was old enough to drive and every Saturday we would troll around Texarkana, snapping up vinyl wherever we could find it. We shopped at record stores, discount department stores and, best of all, funky little shops filled with 45s (7-inch records with one song on each side that spun on a turntable at 45 revolutions per minute), also known as singles, that used to live in juke boxes. Three records for one dollar, that was a good deal. Anyway, by the time the British invasion hit, my dreams of musical stardom were already in place. I had heard that the big hit, “Hey Paula” was written and recorded by just a regular ol’ college guy in Ft. Worth. If some dude named Ray Hildebrand could do it, why not me? Plus, the super duper cute English bug, Hayley Mills, had long since bitten me (the movie, THE PARENT TRAP), so my desire for exotic worldly pleasures was plenty piqued by the time Ed Sullivan decided to make a really big name for himself.

But, without a doubt, The Beatles defined my goals and the goals of about 100 million other kids who simply had to find out if they could sing or play music that other people would actually listen to and maybe even buy. I don’t know what “making it” means any more than I did in the 5th grade or 35 years ago, when Brave Combo played its first note, but I do know what a thrill it was to walk into a Tower Record store in Tokyo and see an enormous Brave Combo display in a prominent spot. That meant a machine full of workers was trying to help us propel our dreams. We were on the cover of their equivalent to ROLLING STONE. There were a lot of interviews. Some days we would do about 8-10 of them with just a short lunch break. We were wined and dined, nightly, and met a lot of famous Japanese artists and musicians and once appeared on a popular TV show with Jody Whatley.

The history of the band is sprinkled with myriad examples of “making it,” I guess, but this place and time was special. Tokyo FM was playing our music on Top 40 radio, although it was Top 100 radio. And, bingo! We charted. Japanese fans were calling and requesting Brave Combo. A song we recorded with our buddy, Lauren Agnelli, “A Way To Say Goodbye,” from our album, ALLUMETTES, reached #80 and stayed there for two weeks. Our promoters went to great lengths to be sure we were enjoying every second. Our CD sales spiked a little and our concerts were well-attended, with some selling out. Of course, we came home and, obviously, no one in the United States knew anything about what was going on in Japan. It was back to business as usual, which wasn’t bad, at all. Rounder was putting out our stuff and we were playing all over the United States to a slowly growing fan base. But in Japan we were reaching the mainstream, sorta, and being presented with robes, just like The Beatles got, from the same company (Isetan) that gave the robes to them. One time our production company and stage crew just came off the road with Sting to tour with us and then, afterwards, went out with George Harrison and Eric Clapton. I heard we sounded and looked good. We later heard that if we had not sounded and looked good someone on the crew or in production would have lost his or her job. The machine was behind us. The reality took over and Japan suffered a big-time recession and eventually there was not as much money floating around to fly Brave Combo from DFW to Narita. But don’t feel badly for us. I’m sure there are still lots of fans on the other side of the Pacific that would pay hard-earned money to hear us play, “Ice Machine In The Desert” or “The Mystery Spot Polka.” Plus, we performed in Osaka on the 50th anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor. That was a pretty rich, though somewhat awkward, experience. But similar in feeling to many things we’ve been through; interesting and exciting coupled with confusing and awkward.

Speaking of BC’s colorful past, our original woodwinder, Timmy “Hendrix” Walsh claims to have completed the diary from the band’s first four years. We will be posting it on the web site ASAP. I reviewed our 1980 booking calendar the other day, helping Tim figure out a few dates, and was amazed at how much we played that year and how often we were payed less than $50; that’s $50 for the whole band. Expenses came out of that before anyone got paid. We were living large, Baby!

Gigs-A-Popping! Hey! You need to look at our itinerary. The 2014 calendar is filling in fast and we’re working hard to reach some long-neglected areas of the country. In just the next couple of months we’re bringing the BC polka sound to back Atlanta, GA, Greenville, SC, Raleigh, NC, Richmond, VA, Lancaster, PA and the Washington DC/Baltimore area.

And, speaking of playing somewhere besides the good ol’ USA (see paragraph one), we have officially blocked out the second half of August for a trip to the UK. Offers from festivals and clubs are starting to come in (even a likely wedding party), so if everything continues to line up the way it’s supposed to, we’ll all need to be sure our passports are up-to-date before long.

My 1974 Fender Telecaster needs a fret job. It’s at the shop. The string buzzing was getting to me. Know what I mean? Also, the reverb on my guitar amp is intermittent; not always working. And, to top it all, the adjustable wrist strap on my favorite accordion broke in the middle of a solo recently, so I’ve been needing to get a new one and install it. No repair is easy with an accordion, by the way, and the guy at the handy-man-fix-it-shop has probably never replaced an adjustable accordion wrist strap. Hell, I should be good at this by now. It’s not the first strap I’ve snapped and replaced. It’s just a hassle, like the squeaky door that no longer responds to WD-40 and needs a new hinge. Okay. Wish me luck. If you see me playing my turquoise Weltmeitser, you’ll know it worked.

Modern Joke:
Upbeat Shopper at Lowe’s addressing a worker: Hey, where are all the 75-watt and 100-watt incandescent light bulbs? I can’t seem to find any.
Lowe’s Worker: All gone.
Baffled Shopper: What?
Lowe’s worker: As of January 1, 2014, they’re against the law.
Concerned Shopper: You’re kidding?
Lowe’s worker: Nope
Bummed-out shopper: Really?
Lowe’s worker: Yep
Desperate Shopper: Wow. Okay. That sucks! Well, where can I find the asbestos insulation?

As I write this, I’m in my home office. The back door opens right onto our new catio (cat patio) and Spunky (big orange ex-stray, now pampered family member) wants to come and go as he pleases. It’s cold outside, but I have to leave the door cracked just enough for Spunky to indulge himself. We haven’t decided yet whether to put in another pet door or install a fancy cat portal in the window next to the door. So, for now, I have the privilege to suffer so my cat won’t be inconvenienced or uncomfortable. It’s an honor. His happiness is abnormally important to me. So what? Now go do what you were doing before you stopped to read this. I appreciate you taking the time. Oh yeah, and come to hear Brave Combo play, and buy our merchandise for every possible occasion. And think about us, at least, twice every day. That’s all. You’re excused.