Volume 7- #9 – September 2004

Oh, the tension is high. The race is close. Morning comes. Afternoon comes. Evening comes. Night comes. And then, morning comes, etc. and the tension gets higher. Americans are in a philosophical civil war. What should our role be, as the ultimate superpower? Is the United States justified in deciding the “right” direction for the rest of the world? In fact, is the world now so small, any reasonable person can see, in order to protect ourselves, it’s okay to attack another country that we deem a threat? We have the ability to de-stabilize any errant corner of the globe overnight and call it war. Bush has that power. But, you know what? I’m not even sure we’re at war. It’s more like we’re trying to hunt down a bunch of well-organized, well-armed, clever death row escapees. I guess the war on terror is like the war on drugs or illiteracy. And another thing, I don’t think the Presidential Election is really about Bush and Kerry at all. In a way, they’re both rather forgettable characters. It’s about how we, as Americans, want our country to act. And, I’ll admit, to some degree, I’m confused. I shouldn’t have to worry about crazy terrorists the rest of my life. It’s not fair that they’re bumming me out so often. But I’m also thinking more and more about the big picture, too. Some estimate that as many as 30,000 Iraqis have died since we invaded their country. Of course, Saddam Hussein needed to be policed, but has anyone ever heard the expression two wrongs don’t make a right? I know these are worn out issues. I’m not posing anything new to ponder, really, but they’re still worth thinking about. This election may possibly decide more than we’ve bargained for.

HAPPY DAYS ARE HERE AGAIN. We played a gig recently and one of the men running the ballroom came up to the stage toward the end of the show, told me they had a tradition that bands end the night with “God Bless America,” and asked if we would play it. This put me in a tough spot and I had to think fast. I declined. The man looked displeased, but his request didn’t make sense. It wouldn’t have been appropriate. In my opinion, the night had been a celebration of diversity, unencumbered by ideas of God and right and wrong. Hundreds of people had danced polka, cha cha, salsa, tsamikos, waltz, samba and, of course, the twist. The scene was very upbeat and I made a decision based on “the vibe.” By the way, I wouldn’t have played that patriotic Lee Greenwood song either. And, just so you know, we won’t play “The Too Fat Polka” and I don’t like to sing about meat too much, either. But that’s just me.

There’s a song that’s used a lot here and there by the late psycho R & B singer, Screaming Jay Hawkins, called “I Put A Spell On You.” You’ve probably heard it. Screaming Jay was a wild performer that appeared as a black Dracula and used stage props like coffins, burning headgear and voodoo dolls. Once, Club Dada, in Dallas, wanted us to do a show backing Screaming Jay Hawkins and we eagerly accepted the challenge. I had been listening to his stuff for a long time and was, at least, intrigued. So the club manager gave me Screaming Jay’s Los Angeles phone number. I needed to work out the details of the show with him. I called him and we talked about songs we would play and about how in the middle of the set Jeff would follow him into the ladies rest room, playing bluesy sax licks. His voice was big and he was cordial to me, though kinda jivey, and I looked forward to making it happen. A few days later, Club Dada learned that Screaming Jay was bringing a gun to Dallas because someone in Texas wanted to kill him. The show was cancelled.

Speaking of Screaming Jay’s legacy, Alan Price, the original organist for the British band, The Animals, recorded a beautiful, classically tinged arrangement of “I Put A Spell On You.” It was a minor hit for his band, The Alan Price Set. I bought the 45-rpm single and played it to death. This was while I was in junior high school. Years later I heard Screaming Jay’s version and my eyes opened even wider.

Speaking of British invasion bands from the 1960s, I sure did like The Kinks: great name, great look, great sound and, oh yeah, great songs. Ray Davies was almost better than anybody. The first several albums featured simple gritty pop/rock and produced a ton of hits. Then their focus gradually shifted to poetically examining day-to-day life in England, primarily rural England. The songs, “Dead End Street,” “Sunny Afternoon,” “Dandy” and “Dedicated Follower Of Fashion” represent the transitional period. And their album, VILLAGE GREEN PRESERVATION SOCIETY, marks their complete departure from three-chord rock. It’s an interesting evolution; remarkable, actually. I thought they were ultra cool and I still do. I liked Neil Sedaka and the soundtrack from BYE BYE, BIRDIE quite a bit, too. And THE MAN OF LA MANCHA had some good songs. “I am I, Don Quixote, the Lord of La Mancha. My destiny calls and I go!” Hmm, that would make a great rock rhumba, especially if it was played in the style of the early Kinks, with a forced cockney accent, like Green Day.

Our holiday album, tentatively titled, HOLIDAYS, has been mixed, mastered and it’s ready to go. It contains 19 tracks, including 17 original compositions. I like to think of it as Brave Combo’s VILLAGE GREEN PRESERVATION SOCIETY. Anyway, we hope to have CDs available before Thanksgiving, but we may only do a limited run this year to avoid short-changing LET’S KISS, our brand new, freshly available CD. Have you heard “Bumblebee?” It’s a happening disc.

SAD TELEVISION. First of all, I’m not one to constantly criticize reality TV. I just don’t long for the good ol’ sitcom days of the late 90s and I actually enjoy the whittling down of the contestants on AMERICAN IDOL. But I really have a problem with FEAR FACTOR. Not because it’s gross or that I’m worried about the people involved. I think it’s arrogant and cruel. I saw a segment from the show recently where the host was encouraging a female contestant to eat a live spider. At one point she bit the spider and it plopped onto the table in front of her. The camera zoomed in on the injured creature, now missing a few legs and obviously on its way to death. The audience was squealing with delightful repulsion as the host prodded the poor “damsel in distress” to finish the deed, which she eventually did. It was unsettling and sad. I’m not sure it’s a healthy thing to sensationalize and glorify taking life at any level. Well, maybe the spider released a very slow-acting poison the moment it was first bitten, the effects of which will not be noticed, for, perhaps years, like rabies. Or maybe the contestant will have a hard time not imagining a spider crawling up and down her esophagus for the rest of her life. You can call me crazy if you want.

I’m sitting in the Brave Combo office, 11/2 blocks north of the downtown square. It’s a mid-week night. I hear a car or truck roll by the front door every few seconds and a train whines in the distance. This is a great place to be, especially when it rains. You can hear almost every drop. I like it when the city gives up the excitement of the day and replaces it with the mysterious calm of the night. Anything is possible, isn’t it? And most things happen by choice. Choose wisely. Here’s to exciting days and calm nights (or vice versa). See you tomorrow.