Volume 6 – #9 – September 2003

Autumn is here and that means a lot to Texans. It’s a relief. It’s easier to imagine riding the groovy new bike trails in town. And, in the wonderful world of Brave Combo, autumn means Oktoberfest. We play ’em all over the country throughout September and October. And Oktoberfest means polkas, polkas, polkas, of course. And you know that makes me feel happy. Or at least, needed. Brave Combo is about a lot of things, but mainly we’re about polkas. And even if polkas were just a concept that never took a tangible form, we would still be about polkas. And that’s because polkas encourage people to not be self-conscious, which leads people to think for themselves. In some ways, it might not be good for polkas to become hip and, by turn, forced to play the hip game along with every other genre. Maybe part of polka’s strength comes from its squareness. At this point, polka doesn’t play by anyone else’s rules. That’s mainly because it rarely gets invited to play with anyone else, but also because polka is stubborn. At times, it’s pride-driven to a fault. But usually, I think, it’s passion-driven. We’ve played a lot of polka festivals this year. And time after time, polka fans that thought they should hate us, opened their ears and hearts to our energy and allowed themselves to trust our motives. Polka fans don’t want the passion to disappear. Fans of ethnic music in general are always looking for that fire. Commercializing music tends to homogenize and water down the fire. This is a sticky wicket, my friends. And my rambling writing style is making the wicket stickier. All I’m trying to say here is, “Polkas kick ass!” I’m also trying to say that I’m just one person. I can only do so much. I can only have so much influence, and then I have to take care of myself. My reason for being on this planet from this point forward is just to stand at the gates of Brave Combo and protect it. The idea is bigger than me alone. It’s bigger than the five of us. It’s almost a separate entity that can’t be stopped. We’ve already done too much damage. Brave Combo is about the plight of polka. It’s about the struggle of coming to grips with who or what you are. It’s also about being human and defeated. Twenty-five years ago I knew I wanted to play polka music in a rock band. I thought the music was interesting, musically and psychologically. I didn’t know it would lead to this. I didn’t think about where we were going. And as our journey took shape and we felt more and more responsibility, I became more protective. I’m not comfortable around anything short of perfection. Consequently, I’m often uncomfortable with myself. But I also make people uncomfortable if they’re not on the same page as me. Sometimes I alienate more people than I attract. But, that’s just the way it is. My standards are usually unattainably high. I apply strategy for maximum effect to everything I do with Brave Combo. When we play live, no matter what the situation is, I want us to transcend the predictable. I want us to go beyond what’s expected; to constantly outdo ourselves. Are you getting the picture? I’m a pain in the ass and I’ll kick you in the ass, but I’ll also try really hard to kick ass with you. I promise. So, I say, “Hey, fellow humans! Let’s kick some ass together.” You know, “kicking ass” is a pretty stupid term. Does it mean actually kicking someone’s butt or does it mean you’re beating someone up or does it mean you’re kicking a donkey? I think mainly people just like the sound and the feel of the double “k” followed by the short “a” sound. It’s fun to voice it aggressively. You know, more of that passion-driven stuff. Well, no matter what, there are more polkas to play. I hope you want to listen, but, it doesn’t really matter. We’re gonna play ’em anyway. I have a list of about fifty songs I want Brave Combo to learn. What is wrong with me? I have no idea what the hot new television shows are. I don’t know which product clears drains best. I don’t know how to work on cars. I don’t know how to be patient with bratty children of any age. I don’t know how to play any computer games, except solitaire. I don’t know how to cook. I don’t know how to have a good time camping. I don’t know about current comic book heroes (except Harvey Pekar). Oh, there’s so much I don’t know. My ignorance comforts me, though. So don’t feel sorry for me.

Again, speaking of autumn, I can’t help but remember Brave Combo’s surreal time at the State Fair of Texas, held in Dallas every October. We strolled the fair, playing acoustically, for ten years (roughly 1980-1990). It was hard (we had to drive to Dallas every day) and it was time-consuming (we had to drive to Dallas every day), but it was more fun than work. We thought we ruled that place. We knew everybody and since we were acoustic and mobile, we could go anywhere we wanted on the fair grounds and do a show. We were contracted to do 150 minutes of music a day. That could mean thirty five-minute shows or five thirty-minute shows. It was all up to us; any configuration of time and location. We learned pretty quickly, however, that short shows were better. People in general have limited attention spans, but people at a state fair have almost no attention span. We were just a colorful extra; an olive in the martini or the icing on the cake or, to some, maybe an olive in the cake. Anyway, I think the stint was an integral part of our education. We learned a lot about what works with an audience. On many occasions Crazy Ray (the ultimate Dallas Cowboy cheerleader) would stroll with us. He was also hired by the fair to add a little pizzazz to the scene. Sometimes we would hang out with the voice of Big Tex or the dwarf who pulled an anvil up a plank with a wire fish-hooked through his tongue or the guy who ran the Cajun food stand or the girls who stood by the cars in the Automobile Building. Or we would hang out with Helga Beckman, the accordionist in the Hans Mueller German food tent (who was much more fun than the girls standing by the cars in the Automobile Building) or Don Schafer, the agent who booked the country bands. It’s been well over ten years since we played the fair, but I still feel like I’m on the inside. Damn, time sure marches on.

Speaking of time marching on, or rather, rolling on, the Donut (our old van/bus thing) has to stay home most of the time now. We won’t take it more than 500 miles away from Denton anymore. It’s still the coolest vehicle on the road, even if it’s dirty and wobbly. Somehow, it comes off both sinister and friendly. We’ll still be driving it around Texas, Oklahoma and Arkansas, but that’s it. When we finally retire it, the Donut would make a wonderful guest room, if some progressive-thinking, bargain-hunting family wants to buy it and park it by their house. It has two comfortable bunks with lights and fans, a somewhat used entertainment center, a good place to hang clothes, room to pace a little, a steering wheel, some tires and a lot of good vibes. Do I hear any offers?

TEN BRAVE COMBO MOMENTS THAT GOT MY ATTENTION (not necessarily the most significant B.C. moments and in no particular order):

1. Marching in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. It was very, very cold and Dionne Warwick was on a float high above us.
2. A German band named Polka Service opened for us in Berlin a few years ago and the first song they played was “Do Something Different.”
3. We had a gig at Poor David’s Pub in Dallas in the mid-1980’s and the only people that showed up were four ladies from the senior citizen dance group, The Garland Blue Star Line Dancers.
4. We were about to play a show in Norman, Oklahoma and the bar manager told us that a severed head was found in the dumpster behind the club that afternoon and it might affect the turnout for the night.
5. We rode the hovercraft across the English Channel, from France to England, in Force Nine Gale winds. We thought we were going to die. Really.
6. We won a Grammy.
7. I was walking down the hall of the dilapidated Hotel Bryant in New York City and the hall phone rang just as I passed by. I answered it and Lester Bangs (famous rock and roll music critic) was on the other end, trying to reach me to do an interview.
8. MUSIC FOR SQUARES (our first lp) got a great review in ROLLING STONE. Kurt Loder had given a copy to David Fricke.
9. We were on our way to Dallas in 1983 to play a wedding reception and had a pretty bad wreck. It was Jeff’s first gig with Brave Combo. We didn’t make it.
10. David Byrne, Bruce Willis and John Goodman were all told to leave a club we had just played in Los Angeles because they weren’t in the band.

A SAD NOTE. I realized the other day that I haven’t heard “Stairway to Heaven” (Led Zeppelin’s version, not Brave Combo’s) in a really long time. I’m not suggesting that I need to hear it, it just occurred to me that my memory of the song is becoming more distant. In fact, if I never hear it again, it’s okay with me. I saw Led Zeppelin four times and they played it every time. The first time I heard them they hadn’t even recorded it yet. I never understood who that lady was that Robert Plant was singing about. It always seemed a little overblown to me.

One time we were playing at a club in Arlington, Texas called Fatso’s and the Christian radio station across the street was having a transmitter broadcasting problem, which was causing the radio signal to come through the club’s PA system. At first it was funny. Then it was annoying. Then it was unbearable. Finally our audience went berserk and burned down the station. As it turns out, God didn’t mind.

Okay, that’s enough for now. Brave Combo has toured hard and heavy for several months now and we’re going to take it a little bit easier for a while. But we’re still playing a lot. So, put on some clothes and come out before 2003 ends. Most of our shows are not clothes-optional. I’m sorry. But we try to have fun anyway. Until then, be yourself, even if you don’t know how. I hope our music helps. Ta-da!