Volume 6 – #12 – December 2003
Wow! It’s time for a new year. I’ve noticed since I’ve been alive that a brand new year almost always starts right after Christmas. So, old 2003 (and I don’t mean “good ol’ 2003”) has withered up and “fresh as a new-born” 2004, full of hope and promise, begins to reveal itself. It’s such an innocent thing, and so cute and cuddly. But, wait a minute. It’s an election year. Oh man, 2004 is gonna suck, except for one thing. It’s Brave Combo’s 25th year. This is exciting and depressing at the same time. I’ve learned a lot and I’ve learned practically nothing. I’m just as wonderful and disgusting as I was before this insane polka journey began. No, actually, I think I’m more disgusting, but, also, more wonderful than ever. And I’m 25 years older than I was 25 years ago. Everyone over 25 is. Having significant life experiences, good or bad, teaches you things. Writing songs about those events teaches you things. Recording those songs in the studio teaches you things. Performing live teaches you things. Touring really teaches you things. Foreign touring teaches you that you don’t know anything. We (Brave Combo) never had anyone to tell us how to do stuff or what to expect. We first started playing during a very vibrant and volatile time for pop music. Punk was fresh, disco was fresh, new wave was happening and underground scenesters from coast to coast heard about a nuclear polka band from Texas. Lyle, our first bass player, was adventurous and aggressive. He had traveled a lot, so he wasn’t at all reticent about us buying a cheap used van to get ourselves to New York City the first time (we lost about $3000 on the trip and the van broke down five times, but music writer, Lester Bangs, caught our show at a club on 86th Street and wrote some very nice things about us in THE VILLAGE VOICE). We came home worn out, broke and slightly famous. Tim, our first horn player, was tall, skinny and wide-eyed. He had fearless faith in the music. For him, anyplace/anytime was the right place and time for playing music. Dave, our first drummer, was laid back and easy going. He believed in the mystical aspect of everything and grooved accordingly. We were all fascinated by the new sound we were exploring. It came out raw and clunky, but maybe naïve in a lovable way, too. Our first album, MUSIC FOR SQUARES, received an extraordinary amount of attention. It was reviewed everywhere, even in ROLLING STONE. We realized that a handful of people in every city in the USA now knew about us. That was cool. Four dorks, and I do mean dorks, from Denton, Texas made something new and interesting. These days, MUSIC FOR SQUARES is hard for me to enjoy. The sound is abrasive, the playing is sloppy and the singing, mainly mine, is simply not appealing. But I love it. I love what it is as an object and I love what it represents. Perhaps, along the way, as we’ve made a few people dance, we’ve made art as well. Who knows?
Speaking of the new year, I’ve made two resolutions. 1. Get more sleep. 2. Get the MACHINE’S PUMP out by the middle of the month. I can do both. I know I can. These are simple things. It’s not like I’m trying to stop smoking. I don’t need to stop stealing stuff or killing people. Why, it’s been years since I killed anyone.
Speaking of killing people, death is hardly ever funny. It’s usually sad or gross or scary or shocking, but rarely funny. I have heard that some murderers laughed at their victims suffering, but it probably wasn’t because it was funny. The murderer was probably crazy, doing one of those crazy, maniacal kinds of laughs. Television sitcoms aren’t usually funny either. A few have worked over the years, but most haven’t. But they’re supposed to be funny. The laugh track is there to remind you that it’s supposed to be funny. Irony used to be funny, but we’re all ironied out. When humor becomes dated it’s not funny anymore. Sometimes people write funny songs. Most novelty hits through the years have been funny in some way, or at least humorously clever. The hook is in the humor. Songs need hooks to be memorable or special. More than anything I try to find that hook and make my music catchy. “Catchy” is hard to define, but it’s essential to the success of a song. You need some element to grab the listener’s attention over and over. It can be a lyric, a twist in the melody, a sound, a rhythm pattern, a harmony part or an attitude. If I can’t come up with a good catchy hook, I incorporate subliminal messages to lure unsuspecting ears. If you slow down (or speed up) most Brave Combo recordings you can hear us chanting “sex, money, puppies, tater tots, crack” under almost every track.
Brave Combo’s sometimes percussionist, Mike Dillon, and I are recording an album together at the fancy, yet rustic Echo Lab in Argyle, Texas. We’re both involved in it.
As we enter a brave new year my mind understandably wanders to technology and its place in society. And I have a theory about what’s going on. People have developed a crush on technology. Human interaction has become boring and, frankly, passé. With the advent of home computers and the internet, it’s as if aliens have landed and moved into our homes and we’re smitten by them. Our cell phones are capable of holding the contents of our brains. Basically, robots are hypnotizing us. Run for your lives people. They want to control you and you want to be controlled. It’s 1984 all over again. Boy, George Orwell’s timing was just a little off, wasn’t it? What an idiot.
Speaking of idiots, it’s time for me to say “adios.” I’ve wasted enough of your time for now. Brave Combo is taking a break from performing for about a month. Bubba plans to hang out in Los Angeles with his brother and work on his solo album, Danny plans to spend more time with his twin girls, Alan plans to nurture his crush on technology and perhaps do a little camping, Jeff will probably strum his ukulele and I plan to play with my dogs, manage the Brave Combo office and explore emotional peaks and valleys. 2004 is a mystery. By February we won’t care anymore. The same old defense mechanisms will kick in and we’ll trudge along as we did in 2003. Ho hum. I’m bored already.
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