Volume 5 – #5 – May 2002

While strolling through the park one day, in the merry, merry month of May, I was taken by surprise by the realization that there was no porta-potty near the stage. Welcome to my world.

I mentioned in an earlier newsletter that I’ve been working on a medley of hymns. At first I was calling it “Hymns For Atheists.” The idea was that I would try to arrange and record Protestant hymns in such a way that even atheists could enjoy them; that the religious aspect wouldn’t get in the way because the music would be so captivating. I wanted to present the music as just music. Anyway, almost everyone misunderstood. Some people thought that atheist hymns really existed (oh, perhaps they do, in a pagan way) and some people thought I was writing new, sort of secular, lyrics to traditional hymns. You know, like the Unitarians occasionally do. But I wasn’t interested in either of those things. I’m comfortable with listening to songs sung in foreign languages and sometimes the lyrical content may be religious or spiritual. This is cool. It really doesn’t matter. And I’ve recently realized that some of my appreciation for the structure and power of polka music was encouraged by the structure and power of Protestant hymns. They’re very similar actually. In fact, many hymns make good polkas, from a purely musical perspective. Whatever, I have decided to change the working title of the project to “Protestant Hymn Medley.” I think that’s more to the point. Maybe I’ll add something like, “Suitable for both believers and atheists.” I hope to be finished with this soon and will figure out what to do with it.

ALMOST THE SAME TOPIC. I studied art in college and somehow managed to procure two degrees: BFA in Advertising Art and MFA in Drawing and Painting. Thank God Brave Combo worked. I think it helped justify my masters to a lot of people. Actually, in some ways, Brave Combo was the result of my attempt to be an artist. I approached BC the same way I did my sound installations and conceptual pieces and expected the same response from whoever experienced either: a shift in perspective. You see, I was bitten by the polka bug about four years before Brave Combo was born. A painting professor asked our class one day, “Do you make art or do you make what looks like art?” That statement haunted me and I began to question my purpose obsessively. And I believe a new person emerged. I started to see a whole lot of things differently and felt a diminishing need or desire to judge things; to call something “bad” or “good” or “right” or “wrong.” I moved away from paint and brushes and focused on sound and music. Doors opened in my head and, almost cosmically, the doors to opportunity for self-expression opened as well. How to make my statement as an artist became more and more clear. The key to greater understanding and tolerance was simply a matter of perspective. I realized I didn’t have to judge anything, so more influences became available to me. Does this make sense?

I get my share of email. And I’m usually very slow in responding. I apologize to everyone I’ve offended by not getting right back to you. Frankly, I think people are too free with email in some cases. It can take a long time to answer a few requests. I think I liked it better when it took more effort on the sender’s part to ask for something. However, I gladly welcome any email that requires no response. Whoa, wait a minute. I don’t need another joke or lightweight “interesting” or “cute” newsy tidbit, unless it’s something you know I’m curious about. We’re drowning in trivia. It can take a lot of time to process and, at the very least, distract us. The world feels so cluttered right now that I’m becoming concerned about what we (Brave Combo) add to the problem. I saw an item scroll across one of the news channels the other day that read, ” ‘Does Anybody Really Know What Time ….,” by Chicago released on this day in 1968.” First of all, they didn’t even finish writing out the title of the song. Secondly, was there some special significance to this song that I’ve missed? If not, the floodgates are open more than I thought. Digital cameras strike me the same way. How many images of our life do we have to capture and cull through? Are we looking for perfection in some evolutionary way? NEW STYLE CAMERA MAKES NEW STYLE PHOTOS. ALL CITIZENS MUST HAVE ONE. Actually, our economy depends on disposable income and planned obsolescence. We all, including Brave Combo, have to keep enticing the public to buy, buy, buy. And you know what else? I’m pretty bored with nostalgia as well. I never have to hear some songs again, ever. Most of them are swell songs that I probably enjoyed at one time, like “Monday, Monday,” by the Mamas and Papas or “Happy Together,” by the Turtles.” But they’ve been played enough for this millennium. Actually, I’m crazy about the Turtles, but I’m sick of “Happy Together” and will be for the rest of my life. I know this is purely subjective and no one’s opinion but my own, but, after all, this is my newsletter. “Layla” has definitely been overplayed. I saw Derek and the Dominoes (with Eric Clapton) live once. They were okay; nothing special. Anyway, let’s sum up; an excessive awareness of trivia and desire for nostalgia are signs of a society in decay. Everybody run and hide!

Speaking of email, someone recently suggested, via email, that I talk about the “Chicken Dance.” Okay. It originated in Belgium or Germany, and the publishing rights are owned by a company in Belgium. It was a goofy dance craze all over Europe a few years before it showed up here. A company in New York City, September Music, owns the rights to the song in the USA. We’ve been playing it for (gulp) 22 years. In the beginning we knew it as the “Duck Dance.” It’s a good icebreaker and audience involver, but it’s also novelty fluff. I often announce at our shows, “This is not concert material. Everybody on the dance floor.” Recently, we tried to change the music to something more creepy and funky and unrecognizable, but I don’t think anyone liked it but us. If you don’t know how to do the chicken dance, don’t worry about it. By the way, the song is more popular than ever and is constantly licensed for movies and television. Danny saw a chicken dance demonstration on SESAME STREET the other day. A particularly clever Brave Combo fan has figured out how to do the Macarena to it.

Speaking of music, don’t forget to listen to my radio show on the Internet (www.247polkaheaven.com). I play polka after polka after polka after polka.

DONUT LEISURE TIME. We’re often asked what we do in the Donut (our van/bus thing) as we travel from town to town. To be honest, it’s a rather sedate place. It’s often our sanctuary; our escape. It’s just right for five or six people, so we rarely invite guests to ride along. I like to listen to music and write. Alan plays with his computer and watches movies. Jeff decorates his corner and dabbles with his sampler. Danny listens to books-on-tape and sleeps. Bubba sits in the front and zones out. Danny and Bubba are the primary drivers. Jeff and Alan are rarely on the phone. We discuss the outside world and plan our strategies. Reading is popular. The bunks are fun. The back one is big and bouncy. The front one is smaller, but smoother. We stop about every two hours and step out into the parking lot of a truck stop or convenience store/gas station. This is an opportunity to snack or resist the temptation to snack. Either way, you win. If we have time, we’ll go to a sit-down restaurant and eat an actual meal. This can be classified as major entertainment. The best time in the Donut, though, is right after the gig. It’s usually pretty quiet and a good time to think. We become one with our strange gray box and roll away. The road stretches into the darkness, and before long we’re flanked by eighteen-wheelers. It’s one to three hours before we reach our destination, which is usually a lonely motel in the middle of nowhere. As we check in, the Donut heaves a sigh of relief and dozes off. We go to our rooms and enjoy our private time away from each other. And you should do the same. The party’s over. Tomorrow’s another day. Good night.