By Julie Seabaugh
By Julie Seabaugh
By Christian Schaeffer
By Daniel Hill
By Jaime Lees
By Roy Kasten
By Melinda Cooper
By Jeremy Essig
Actually, even though The Process earned the group yet another nomination in the polka category, it could have qualified as a Best Pop Album candidate because the group used it to house all of its favorite songs that didn't polka quite hard enough to warrant inclusion on previous releases. Combo founder Carl Finch even entertained the thought that this tactic might garner the group some airplay outside the realm of weekend world-music shows. "But, no, we didn't succeed there," he remembers with a laugh.
However, Brave Combo did finally succeed at convincing some longtime skeptics of its legitimacy after joining polka legends such as Frankie Yankovic and Eddie Blazonczyk in the rarefied air of polka-Grammy winners. Before earning the industry's stamp of approval, some crafty music-biz types had written off Brave Combo as a novelty act, whereas hard-liners in the polka community found the group's approach, well, a little too bohemian.
"Some people [in the polka community] completely got it," Finch clarifies. "It's been more the people who are just on the outside that didn't know what to do with us. They look at us as just hippies. Winning that Grammy hasn't changed anything significantly for us, but it has been a way for us to show that we take this music seriously and it's not a joke. A big part of our mission has been to raise the level of awareness of polka within the industry. It's a music that hasn't been dubbed hip by the community at large, and that is still a big struggle for us."
But even though Finch wants his band to be taken seriously, Brave Combo doesn't take itself too seriously, which is a good thing. It's hard to imagine anything more ridiculous than a man with an accordion strapped to his chest acting snooty. Finch knows that aside from weddings and beer festivals, polka's U.S. habitat is PBS, where old folks enjoy it alongside other dead languages such as Latin and Lawrence Welk's music. He plans to change that rep with Brave Combo, and he sees no reason he can't, because he had to conquer these same perceptions when starting the band.
"At the beginning, honestly, I was more attracted to the bizarre jackets," Finch says of the sharp-dressed men he found on cutout-bin record covers. "I had a little bit of exposure to polka from a friend whose father listened to Lawrence Welk, but at the time when I discovered these cutouts, I was definitely bored with the state of pop music. I had been into rock & roll growing up, and I was losing interest, which is depressing because when you're a kid, you build your image and get your strength from rock & roll. Then I realized that it was as dumb and as corporate-driven as anything else in the '70s. A lot of people jumped off the bandwagon and went to disco or went to punk or the early stages of new wave, and I did the same thing and chose a different kind of music. At first, my interest was probably more novelty-driven, but then it became a mission for me."
And it's a mission that is alive and well, judging by Brave Combo's 23rd and most recent release, Kick-Ass Polkas. Where The Process allowed Brave Combo to explore its latent pop sensibilities, Kick-Ass Polkas finds the group's feet once again firmly planted in square one. Recorded live last Halloween at Cleveland's Beachland Ballroom, Kick-Ass Polkas captures the group tearing through 11 polka standards (with one Finch original) in front of a boisterous crowd.
"We wanted to show that we're still devoted to the larger cause, that we're part of an evolutionary part of a traditional music that is still growing," Finch says. "We still take influences and learn the same songs that all polka bands do. We go back to the same roots, whether it's Tejano or Polish or German or Czech, and we work really hard at digging out the root and building our own music from that."
Indeed, many of the songs on the live record have been translated from their original languages into English. Standards such as "Violins Play for Me" and "Wooden Heart," which might have fallen on deaf ears had they been performed in the tongues in which they were written, prove themselves as heartfelt and endearing as any of the sentimental pop favorites American audiences hold dear. "That's one area where we've gained a lot of respect even with the old hard-liners in the community, because we're one of the first bands to translate those songs into English," Finch says.