Volume 2 – #17 – December 1999
It’s December, 1999. Countdown to PANIC 2000. It’s super bad. Get up offa that thing. Hot pants. Sex machine. Love me tender. Return to sender. When I was in high school, I thought Grand Funk Railroad was a totally useless band. The very first rock and roll concert I ever saw was Jerry Lee Lewis. He was late. I was in the fourth or fifth grade. The great country saxophonist, Ace Cannon, opened the show. His big hit at the time was a cover of Ferlin Husky’s song, “Gone.” My sister-in-law is Ferlin Husky’s niece. She and my brother and their kids have seen Uncle Ferlin work the 10:30 am show in Branson, Missouri a couple of times. Before we were married, Jane and I went to northern Arkansas with my parents. At that time, all we knew of Branson was that some really good pralines came from there. You could find them all over the Ozarks. Enough of that. Right now I’m listening to some beautiful Okinawan pop music, imagining life on a small island south of Japan. Now I’m listening to Neil Sedaka. I bought some of his 45s when I was young. A friend from Arkansas gave Neil Sedaka massages in Branson.
Back to my original topic, it’s December, 1999. Other than the Christmas shows we’re playing, I’m generally ignoring the holiday buzz this year. Although, I am pretty excited about some of the new arrangements of Christmas songs we’re performing; “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” as a trance twist, thrashing versions of “Santa Clause Is Coming To Town” and “Carol Of The Bells,” and a haunting “Away In A Manger.” Also, we’re performing “Ave Maria” live now. We hope this one makes you cry.
Speaking of Christmas shows. Our annual Rick’s Place holiday salute is happening Saturday, December 11. And we’ve invited some special guests to bring their specialness and make it ultra special. And those guests would be (a) The Denton Community Band, playing $50 worth of Christmas classics and (b) Karen Foster, who, coincidentally, has just released a CD of Christmas music. We’re playing a few more public Christmas concerts/dances. Check our itinerary for details.
If you come out and hear us live, you might notice a young woman playing violin with us. Her name is Bonnie Norris. She lives in Denton with her parents, Eva and Howard, and brother, Nick. Her pitch sense is quite exceptional, which is a good thing for a violinist. She doesn’t look much like any of us.
And, speaking of us, Let me tell you a few things about the members of Brave Combo. When we start a trip, Bubba is usually the first to Drive. Alan and Danny are the late night drivers. Jeff and I don’t drive the Donut (our van/bus vehicle). Alan and Danny have cats exclusively. Jeff has dogs (and occasionally cats). I have dogs and cats. Bubba has no pets. Alan is basically quiet and analytical and, I think, considers himself to be practical. It’s his job to oversee equipment packing. He likes coffee. Bubba is not quiet. He listens to music on the radio a lot and puts ice cream in his coffee and dips stuff in it. He deals with explaining contract terms to clients. Jeff reads a lot and is the most likely to watch videos in the Donut. He dresses for the gig in the morning and likes coffee. Danny spends the most time at the office; booking, scheduling, doodling, smoking and drinking lots of coffee. He would like to be invisible, playing a trumpet that’s dangling in space. You probably know enough about me if you read the newsletter regularly, but I can tell you that I don’t ever drink coffee, I sort of manage this mess called Brave Combo and I’m pretty particular, especially about the music. On stage, I’m floating and assessing at the same time. Music is a very cool thing. I think Brave Combo is a funny thing. We’re not a bitter band. We’re accustomed to traveling for hours and putting on a show. When we have time to stop at a real restaurant and eat lunch it’s exciting. It’s something to look forward to. My search for meaning and purpose is also a funny thing, but often it’s a suffering thing. I imagine a world without hope and, in a way, it’s so beautiful, because true hopelessness is void of expectations. And it’s easier to stay away from comparative thinking when you have no expectations. The barren landscape is full of possibilities. Run out of gas, curse God, fall on your knees and sing a happy tune.
Did I ever tell you about this cricket I saw using a grasshopper as a raft, floating in urine in a stopped up urinal, in a nasty gas station restroom? After I witnessed this horror, I probably bought a snack. I don’t remember where this was, but it’s there right now being itself.
As the year and century and millennium come to a close, I want to thank you for letting Brave Combo into your sphere. Sometimes musicians take for granted the important role fans play in the formula. The energy is out there. It’s our job to organize it and focus it. But there are many times that the audience is the primary generator. So, keep coming out. We need you as much as you need us. Put back some water and non-perishable food. Stash a little cash in a safe place at home. Buy some fresh batteries for your portable radio. Stock up on sensible candles and matches. Believe in your true nature. Add and subtract. Come out a winner. Merry Christmas and, of course, Happy New Year.
Just in case this Y2K (soon-to-be archaic term) destroys all computers forever, call us up if you want to know where we’re playing. Better yet, send us a smoke signal.