Volume 9 – #5 – May 2006

When I moved to Denton in the early 1970s to study art at UNT (University of North Texas), the scene was all about music and self-expression. The school’s One O’Clock Lab Band was a big deal around the world; hippies roamed free and easy and political demonstrations were a regular event. The epicenter of this mindset was Fry Street, or more appropriately, the corner of Fry and Hickory, just on the northern edge of UNT. The first head shop in Texas was on Fry Street (the Birmingham Balloon) and, in fact, the street itself was developing a national reputation as a gathering place for movers, shakers and thinkers. It’s always been a symbol of what Denton, as an organic being, offered to encourage “unbridled” creativity. Artistically, Denton was once known as an “anything goes” town and an oasis of intelligence. When Brave Combo was first touring we always made a point of correcting interviewers who assumed the only cool places in Texas were either Austin or Dallas. And I can’t tell you how many times we were introduced at concerts or on the radio as being from Austin and we always immediately yelled into the microphone, “No, we’re from Denton!” For our last show at the now-defunct Bottom Line in New York City, we hosted a Denton, Texas Night and passed out travel info; once again, making it clear what town we call home. We were Dentonites, nurtured by a beautifully insane environment. Almost 100% of our local gigs in the early days were in clubs and bars around Fry Street. It’s a special edgy place. It gives Denton street cred, because it does have that feel of danger, or at least, spontaneity. But now, in the middle of 2006, it’s all about what Denton wants to become and how conventional. A developer from Houston just bought up a bunch of old buildings around this critical intersection, threatening to level them all, forcing the local business owners (Mr. Chopstix, Treasured Aisles, Texas Jive, The Tomato and many more) to vacate. They plan to scrape (clear cut) the area and some of the buildings are almost 100 years old. Maybe Denton has had its glory day as a leader in music and art. Maybe the convenience and predictability of CVS, Barnes and Noble, Starbucks or whatever is just the wave of the future for most people. Maybe being unique is too much trouble these days. That said, I guess it’s time to start worrying about the plans for the historic Courthouse Square. If you’re interested in up-to-the-minute info, go to www.centraldentonpreservation.org.

Well, I hear there’s a new movie out about Jesus running off to Las Vegas, getting married and having some babies. It’s called THE DAVINCI CODE and I guess it focuses on Jesus’ post-wedding blues. It was a particularly low time for magicians and miracle workers like Jesus. His best paying gig was opening for Siegfried and Roy just doing stock stuff like water to wine, cups and balls, ghost hankie, etc. I understand that, of course, Christians are outraged and saddened at this too-human depiction. Just like all the other overly sensitive religious radicals in the world today, they’re offended again. I’m not going to see THE DA VINCI CODE because it looks boring as hell, not because Opie and Tom Hanks are going to Hell. And even if they do go to Hell, it’s no big deal. They’re survivors. They’ll just wind up making some intriguing movie about Satan and his challenging environment from some interesting new angle, which would rile Christians even more. They’ll show a kinder, gentler side of Hitler relaxing by the pool of fire, sharing a joke about Jews and Arabs with Stalin. Tom Hanks will play the part of Jeffrey Daumer, whose bloodline they discover can be traced back to Abraham (via Kevin Bacon). Then the action scenes explode; Hummers chasing Model Ts through molten lava. Concerning THE DAVINCI CODE, most critics feel that the laborious scenes of Jesus taking his kids to the same drab park everyday really slowed down the pace of the movie. You know what? I hate movies unless they use our music and pay us lots of money. By the way, if this paragraph just offended you, read it again.

The music business has always been a goofy kind of business. There are no real rules, which is great, because most of the people involved don’t follow rules well anyway. Sometimes I’m amazed that things happen at all. What’s the invisible force driving this industry? Everything is so subjective, yet success often depends on predictability and proven formulas. This is an amazing time. New musical stars from all genres are popping up like daily termite swarms. I know a lot, yet it seems there’s just so much more to know. Most of the kids that post blogs on MySpace list their favorite bands as an indicator of where they fit and what they represent, but the lists are endless. Fifty favorite bands would not be uncommon. But wait! No matter what, there are still only 24 hours in a day. If you have 50 “favorite” bands and each band has at least one CD, you’re looking at 25 hours a week (50 faves X 30 minutes each) of personal listening time that must be allotted, to devote even minimum proper attention to bands that deserve the term “favorite.” Add this to all the favorites of all the people you hang out with (they have to fill their listening quota, too) and the 10,000 new bands scheduled to be released tomorrow, on top of all the music that comes from uncontrollable sources (radio, TV, movies, store Muzak, etc.) and you’ve got a lot of contemporary listening going on. You know, I think pop/rock, teenage-geared bands these days are known more for one or two songs, rather than one or two albums. It seems like bands are just knick-knacks that are collected and displayed, until they get dusty. But the most amazing thing of all is that 95% of the hipster bands I’ve bothered to check out are better than good; great at what they do, actually. If I ever intentionally listen to something for more than 30 seconds, I’m digging it and most of the things I hear on MySpace last at least that long before I start thinking about cats or cookies. It seems that one of the greatest challenges facing someone in a society encumbered by so many choices is how to make at least one or two meaningful decisions in a lifetime.

Speaking of selective listening, I found a videotape of Liberace performing live with the London Philharmonic for $2.00 at Walgreen’s the other night. Well, let me tell you, it’s worth every penny. Although his clothes get the most applause, he plays really well and talks to the audience quite a bit. The arrangements are crisp and most of the melodies are well-known crowd-pleasers. Where are the Liberaces today? Those gentle lovable freaks that don’t frighten us at all. Maybe the mentality of sports and competition and toughness has finally taken over mainstream music to such a degree that there can’t be a Liberace anymore. One time, when I was about junior high school age, I wondered what it would be like if bands became more like gangs of thugs, that impressed us as much with their aggression, as their music. I remember thinking at the time that this would someday be a logical step in the evolution of pop music. If it hadn’t been for art school and then, of all things, polka getting me out of the pop/rock loop, I could tell you the future still. What the heck? Anyone can do it. Where will humans allow their egos to take them? How much will the public agree to have its values and philosophies shaped by greedy corporations? How long will we be intimidated by physical beauty and attitude? Those pages in the trendy, slick magazine, by and large, are illusions. The images on television are the same. And the “hot” topics and “cool” issues discussed over the radio usually don’t even really exist. Are we all simply trying to take in too much and do too much? If we’re making phone calls while we’re actually sleeping, that’s multi-tasking gone wild. So, try this, fellow cluttered ones. Turn off all phones, turn off the computer, get ready for bed, get into bed, turn off the light, get out of bed, get the barking dog in from the backyard, lock the doggie door, adjust the thermostat, straighten the runner in the hall, get the cat off the bed, get back into bed, get out of bed, feed the cat, get back into bed, close your eyes, open your eyes, think about clearing your mind, get out of bed, put the cat in the office with the other two cats, go to the bathroom, readjust the thermostat, jot a few things down on a list, get into bed, try to block that song in your head, close your eyes and go to sleep. Easy as pie. Goodnight.