Volume 8 – #9 – September 2005

Oh, this weary planet. What we don’t destroy ourselves, Mother Nature will probably take care of soon enough. Everything feels like it’s made of cardboard and silly putty. Earth can be, apparently, a rather dangerous place. It’s staggering to think how many people in this country had their lives turned upside down last month. One day it was business as usual and the next day they were starting all over and fearing for their lives. I’ve seen so many heart-breaking images of scared people and I know I need to do more to help. Of course, when I add all the animals and pets to the mix, it’s almost more than I can fathom. I feel guilty for not dropping all my relatively unimportant stuff and heading south. Hurricanes Katrina and Rita exposed a lot about a lot. We’ve been given quite an opportunity, at quite a price, to see another folly of our ways and, hopefully, fix it. And, I guess we’ve also been reminded that some things really are out of our control. I don’t like being out of control, but I also know that such a tendency can often be the source of my grief. That’s why I try to imagine an existence without expectations. But no amount of inner peace can prepare one for having his family disappear into murky floodwater as he watches helplessly. This is as bad as it gets. I’m haunted by the idea that just six weeks ago nobody had any idea what was about to happen. Maybe we’ll learn volumes from this. Brave Combo will continue to play as many benefits as possible. And, as an individual, I better give what I can or I won’t be able to live with myself. I welcome every chance to examine my true nature. Don’t you? I know I work hard and want to do my best when I perform, but I also know that my primary motivation is selfish. We’re citizens of a capitalistic country and we run a business that we want to grow. The more people like us, the more money we make, and the cooler we are. Although I am pleased that a byproduct of our efforts makes our audience happy, the bottom line is that we generally do what is best for Brave Combo. So, sometimes it’s appropriate to make a concerted effort to open our eyes and see the need for empathy and compassion.

NOW FOR SOMETHING HEAVY. We (Brave Combo) get to visit many wonderful convenience stores all over the USA and the myriad items they sell are all so colorfully packaged and alluring. Sometimes the door goes “ding, ding, ding” when we enter. I’ve noticed a growing trend of being startled by a friendly greeting from the clerk. But once inside, clerk distractions are quickly replaced by wonder. It’s as if we’ve stumbled into an unknown cave on an invisible moon orbiting a distant planet and have found a pirate’s treasure, or a big plastic Buddha full of M&Ms. It must be frustrating to decide exactly what inventory to stock in your new store. Funny wax teeth that fizz probably aren’t as critical as Cokes. I like plain, but decent, sugar cookies and I’m very particular about what’s available on the chip and cracker aisle. Flavor overkill appears to be all the rage. These days, you can add cherry and vanilla right to your fountain beverage in many stores. Now that’s freedom of choice. At most Oklahoma stops along Interstate 35 you can buy a twister in a jar. This is an actual tornado that some crazy storm chasers from Norman captured, somehow shrunk down and put in a sealed jar. It’s similar to a Mexican Jumping Bean. On occasion, the restrooms at gas stations and convenience stores aren’t spotless, but better than the port-a-potties waiting for us at the festival down the road. I hate bathing in port-a-potties. Let’s eat!

Finally, our new CD, HOLIDAYS, is out of our hands. At least the Rounder version is. It should be in stores by a year from next July. No, no, no, I’m just kidding. Start bugging your favorite recorded music emporium in November. But, Brave Combo proper will have the Dentone version available at shows by the Halloween, in plenty of time for our little East Coast swing in mid-November. Speaking of that swing, we will be in New York City at the club, Satalla, for three nights. This will be a CD release blowout and we hope to feature guest performers at each show. Dream about accordions and make your plans to attend.

Brave Combo returns to the State Fair of Texas this year for a show on Monday, October 17. For ten years, through the 1980s, we played, mainly as a strolling act, almost every single day of the fair. It was our home away from home and we loved it, sort of. We did have to drive to Dallas a lot, but the State Fair family welcomed us as one of their own. I wonder if any of the old regulars are still there. What happened to Crazy Ray, the ultimate Dallas Cowboy fan? He was practically a member of BC on certain days. I especially loved the rainy days. I don’t know why.

Hey, let’s have a polka party. It’s Oktoberfest season again. Check our itinerary, put on your nice clothes, turn off the lights in your house, lock the front door, walk to the car, get in, turn the key, back out into the street and start driving forward toward polka paradise. Did you know there’s a faction in the polka world that would like to retire the word, “polka” and replace it with a term that doesn’t carry the stigma “polka” does? The leading suggestion is “extreme push,” which refers to a Polish American polka dance style (“push”), originally popularized in Chicago in the 1950s by Little Wally. The “extreme” was added to give the name an urgency and modern flair. The group that is spearheading this campaign represents polka musicians who are tired of being stereotyped, judged and discounted and feel that the word “polka” is so tainted, the mainstream will never pay attention.

Backstage at a BC show is usually a pretty rocking, I mean, sedate place? Sometimes, fans that sneak in are disappointed at the lack of wildness going on. I always say, “We throw down on stage, Baby!” It’s not uncommon that club managers will laugh at how many unopened beers are left in the dressing room after our show. And now that Bubba’s not around, it’s even worse. Out of a case, we may drink a total of four or five. Brave Combo is a cheap date, really. We are definitely not high maintenance. We walk through the snow to most of our gigs with our gear strapped to our backs, as if we’re donkeys, or llamas, or mountain goats, or ostriches. I hate it when the announcer says, “And now, ladies and gentlemen, let’s have a warm round of applause for those merry mountain goats, The Brave Combo.” Why do those guys who think we’re goats always put a “The” in our name? One time we were doing a show with Steve Jordan (the South Texas psychedelic accordion god, not the famous session drummer) and he introduced us as Ray’s Band. The first time we played The Continental Club in Austin, someone spilled a drink on one of our amps and it fried immediately. Joe Ely staggered up, aware of our distress and placed a dollar on the dead amp, offering condolences. We musicians stick together, Man. One time we played before Sonic Youth and the guitarist, Thurston Moore, asked if he could play my telecaster. I said yes, but snatched it away when he started bleeding on it. Besides, he had a pile (literally) of his own electric guitars right beside him. I saw Bjork walking down the street in Deep Ellum (Dallas) with her band, The Sugarcubes, and told her I had heard that there was a shortage of piano tuners in Iceland. She was nicer than Natalie Merchant was when we did a show with 10,000 Maniacs. I tried to be friendly and teach her some Texas terms, like, “truck” and “horse” and “downed cow,” but she didn’t seem interested. She twirled and hummed.

Have you heard that new song, “iPod Killed the Video Star?” You know, everything is too splikity-dikity involved. Why, we’ve invited so much stuff into our lives, it takes all day, everyday, just to organize the clutter. Yee-haw, no wonder there are efficiency experts on every corner, selling donuts and preaching like they’re the new prophets. And, apparently they are. We need them. If we’re not worried about giant deadly storms, lord-loving maniacs with bombs (Christian, Muslim, Jew, etc.) or crumbling leadership, we’re all worked up about the exact color of the razor-thin trim around the soles of a tennis shoe. The Las Vegas way rules the land. As it turns out, more IS more. Americans love quantity. Yeah, Man! Get the most bang for your buck or you’re a loser. Okay, this is not so funny anymore. It’s time to play with Stacie, the cat. What’s really important? Sometimes it’s not even tangible. I can dangle a string for Stacie and watch her flail and I can look into her eyes as she prepares to leap and notice how I feel when I lose myself in her. Whatever, it’s not hot outside today. I think we may have had a tornado over the office yesterday. Stacie was freaked out. I held her and said, in cat language, “Don’t worry. It’s probably just a tornado.” This calmed her down and she drifted to sleep. I can say the same to you. Don’t worry little sodbuster. It’s probably just your worst nightmare coming true. Close your eyes and think the thought. Stand up tall and walk the walk. Open your mouth and talk the talk. The story must be told. Pull the string. Yee-haw!