From the Rubin Archives : Gil Baca Band Postcard

I had the honor of playing with Gil Baca and Vernon Drozd one time at Baca's Confectionary on the old square in downtown Fayetteville. Gil came from a long line of band leaders and the Bacova's Ceska Kapela was the first Czech-Bohemian dance band recorded in the US. Gil eventually went on to play drums for Hank Thompson among others. And sax-reed man Vernon was roundly understood to be the best "honky-tonk" player in Texas. (His son Steven is now a famous rock star bringing the Flaming Lips it's sole musical heft.)

The big octagon looking thing in the center of the picture is his dad Ray's mammoth hammered dulcimer, once the cornerstone of Czech music in Texas but now utterly disappeared in favor of the accordion in the 50's and now the pre-recorded computer track today. Vernon stands to the right of Ray, holding up the box. Kermit is on one end with his trumpet and little Gil is at the other.

Strangely, they are pictured in front of the only brick building on the square as Fayetteville features one of Texas' last remaining all wooden downtowns. This band made a big splash playing the Smithsonian Institution's American Folklife Festival, a short tour of  Czechoslovakia in 1972 and also performed at the United States Bicentennial Celebration in Washington, D.C., in 1976. 

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Now available: a handy Mark Rubin FAQ's

In all the years of my public life as a performer, a radio and television host, music supervisor for motion pictures and television or even as a journalist for print and web, not once had anyone asked me to share my basic philosophies about music and culture. Sure, I get a good jab in once and a while, like my quotes in Barry Mazor's "Meeting Jimmie Rodgers" or in the odd print article like Josh Alan's profile of me for the Dallas Observer. But ultimately, there's some kind of editor or agenda at play that somehow muddles the point I hoped to make. (Most notably the "Rubin v. Jimmy Sturr" non-controversy of several years ago.)

What a gift it is then to be allowed a platform, outside of this little blog here, to let folks in on some of the concepts that I have been working with, struggling with and trying to make sense of for the entirety of my professional life. They are the ideas that have defined me and, by extension, all the things I create.

Writer Sarah Hagerman of the Steam Powered Preservation Society web site sat down with me last month, asked some really great questions and let the cassette recorder roll. (Yes, a glorious Radio Shack cassette machine!) In essence, she has provided me with a handy FAQ for me and I am very grateful for the opportunity.

If you are even mildly curious about what motivates my work, then read this two part interview and know quite a bit about me. Probably more than you'd like, I reckon.

Part One: A wide ranging talk including growing up Jewish in small town Oklahoma, the real purpose of music in culture and how the legacy of the Bad Livers was so misunderstood.

Part Two: The power of nomenclature, language and how it effects music and culture, why Bluegrass Nashville is a closed shop (for Jews at least,) my travels across Europe with Rroma musicians and the story of Fat Man & Little Boy.

More Food from my Phone

As some of you may have figured out, I really like to eat. Too much really, so I'm back on a diet which precludes sugars and simple carbohydrates. What better time to clear out the pictures of epic culinary delights from my phone.


Here's a work of literally heart-breaking genius. From a little joint in south Austin that gets enough press so I won't mention it, witness about 2 pounds of bacon, smothered with diced tomatoes and topped with a spicy chili con queso served on two pieces of thick Texas toast. I've had two of these thus far and I pronounce that quite enough for this lifetime.




I may have mentioned it before, but it bears repeating. This is the finest Chicken Fried Steak I have ever encountered. At the evocatively named Johnny Reb's Dixie Cafe in Hearne TX. Great sides too. Not to be missed, I'll be breaking the diet and driving 50 miles out of my way on Saturday to feast upon this plate once again...



While in Portland OR for the Bad Livers gig at Pickathon, I stumbled across a little Arabic joint whose name I did not note. This meal, once again can't recall what they called it, is unlike anything I had eaten. It's a mixture of spiced ground beef, bulgar, rice, shredded chicken, pine nuts and raisins. Unbelievably wonderful. Anybody know what it is called?

Speaking of Arabic:
Frank London ordered this Lebanese hot sausage plate at a fine little joint right around the corner from the West London Synagogue when we were there on staff for Klez Fest UK. When a lemon is served with meat, be looking for some heat!



Back to Portland, the dreaded Bacon and Maple Frosting long john from Voodoo Donuts. I have never felt more ashamed about enjoying something I ate. Maybe the most self loathing moment of my life thus far....



With the dollar in the tank, travel in Europe can be daunting for the broke ass Yiddish musician. For reasons that I cannot fathom, there are no Turkish Ibiss's in the Frankfurt Airport, so $19 US gets you a Bitter Lemon and a pretzel covered in cheese.

And now, a clear signal to the return of the Adkins plan:

The Texas Hill Country is dotted with literally hundreds of these little meat markets and smokehouses, many founded my Czech Bohemian, Moravian and Polish immigrants. I regularly speed past these places on my way to Polka gigs in Schulenberg and honky tonk gigs in Walburg. But last week I decided to mosey along between the K of C and SPJST Halls. I was richly rewarded with this haul of dry sausage goodness.

Pictured L to R
bottom row:
Granzin's Meats, New Branfels
Kreutz Market, Lockhart
Junior's Smokehouse, Brehnam
Chapel Hill Market, Chapel Hill
Burton's Meats, Burton
top row:
Myer's Smokehouse, Elgin
Prasek's Hillje Smokehouse, El Campo
3 jars of Garlic, Pepper and Dill pickles from Chapel Hill Market




--

Random images from my the cell phone, 2.0

Ah, show business!! The marquee for a Ridgetop Syncopators gig on 6th Street.

Best damn Gorditas, ever.
I'm am not a huge fan of the Tejano meat stuffed "Lard Cookie," but at $2.75 per I had to try 'em. It's a new joint on far East 6th street and I forgot the name, but I reckon my belly could drive straight there.

So amazing a meal at the Walburg Restaurant, that I literally forgot to stop and take a picture. I go to southern German and Austria more often than I'd like to admit, but in my humble opinion, this is the finest squarehead grub I've been served. Well, not really served, as it's an ALL YOU CAN EAT buffet. Homemade kraut and cabbage, Weiner schnitzel and local brauten. Washed down with a Warsteiner Heffe Dunkel. I play there regularly with either a bluegrass band made up of German expatriates, or a Polish polka combo lead by a guy best known for Tex-Mex and Cajun music. Its true, lead a very interesting life.

The "Hercules" plate at Niko Niko on Montrose in Houston TX. Long my favorite paper plate Greek joint in Texas, I stopped by the recently remodeled (and always packed to the gills) joint and noticed a new menu item. "We dare you to finish it.." A poor bet indeed. Besides playing killer real-deal Greek music over the house speakers, they have the best advertising graphics as well, mostly cartoon images of the owners ever increasing stomach.("We're expanding...")

OK, I have raved about Fuegos Authentic Mexican for many months. The local papers recently picked up on them as well and gave them what I can only characterize as an appropriate description of this Mom, Pop and Daughter operation. I get the same thing every time I go, but in a fit of curiosity, I went for their "Fat Burger." It is just as the review says: the best burger in Austin. (I can't believe I said that, but it really is so.) The perfect marriage of chuck and ground, I could not get my ample maw around it.

Here's a fine Polish Gorale ensemble that appeared at the Houston Polish Festival last week. They were accompanying a large folk dance dance troupe that had come down from Chicago (Góralski Zespół Pieśni i Tańca "Holni" pod patronatem parafii Św. Krzyża). The local Poles really didn't know what to make of them, as they are mostly descended from the Lowlands and share the traditional Polish distrust of the hillbillies of the Tatras Mountains. Like the dancers these boys here are are FOB (fresh off the boat in the local vernacular) and didn't speak a word of English. Brian Marshall and his boys waited patiently for them to clear out so they could crank up the Texas Lowland fiddle sound.


Me? I thought they were ASS kickingly good. What's hard to see in this picture is the "maly bassy," or small bass; a three string cello actually played with clubby underhand bass bow. The dude could rock it and along with the twin rhythm fiddle section it was a mighty. mighty skronk. You can hardly make it out but one of them is playing a regularly tuned fiddle left handed. (Follow this link for some nice pictures from the event.)

The frighteningly swift end of Traditional Culture

It's hard for me to admit it, but in my relatively short life in music I have witnessed the demise of a traditional art here in Texas, Puro Conjunto better known as Tex-Mex music. It's a long sad story that I will relate here someday, but suffice it to say you've probably seen and heard the last of the traditional San Antonio style Mexican American dance band in it's native environment. It sure will live on I'm sure on festival stages here and there, but only as a faint echo of a once vibrant culture. Texas Bohemian and Czech music is on it's knees for years and doesn't look too well, and Brian Marshall has completely shuttered his Polish dance band for simple lack of interest in his own community.

Then I read this Time article on Polka music and it's current status. My folks used to travel from our home in Northern Oklahoma to polka halls in Kansas and Nebraska, and I grew up in a house where Square Dance and Polka music were family activities. It explains a lot about my musical career since. I passed the Times link around to my local Polka people and they shared with me their perspectives.

From Brian Marshall:
"it's happening everywhere...I played in Eunice, LA last Saturday at the The Liberty Theater (with a Cajun band)...a well known gathering place....played to a crowd of about 90 people.

I believe it's just a cycle...there will always be a desire for the traditional styles....but maybe never as prominent as it once was."

And from Jeff Brosch, drummer for Mark Halata & Texavia and son of legendary Texas Czech band leader Jimmy Brosch:

"Interesting article. The decline of Polka is not news to me. I've watched decline for the past 20 years. It started in the late 70's actually. Of coarse I can only base this from playing with my dad. I did get to witness Polka it in it's hey day however. Large crowds, Etc. But even my dad wanted to play something more progressive like country music.
He always found he could draw a bigger crowd if you played everything, not just Polka.

Did I mention? I think Polka is really a blue collar love affair.

I've never met a millionaire that wanted to hire or sponsor a Polka band.
But if you mention a name brand artist then they're all over it. The sky is the limit for payment.

Playing Polka took me to many Czech wedding parties. I was NEVER over paid. Often negotiating downward to play the wedding and stay booked up. The caterer was making $5000 and the band made $500. Make sense?

The next generations of Czechs are more educated, more employed, more successful, therefore more removed from the immigration process of past years. Not really embracing there heritage. So... the culture is simply a VERY watered down version of past generations.

I can't every see this changing again in my lifetime."

Sadly, nor can I.

Insert YOUR culture here and pause for a moment. What do we lose when we let go of an unbroken chain like this? Or do we simply get the culture we deserve?

Manifesto for a New Year, 5768

As we’re fast approaching the Jewish New Year and as is our custom, it’s time to take stock of the follow year’s events and then see how we can learn from our mistakes and hopefully better ourselves and relations to those around us in the upcoming new year.

Miscommunication seems to me my biggest personal foible of the last year. And when my agenda runs contrary to those I work with regularly, feelings tend to get hurt and no good can come of that. (My own selfishness and insensitivity rank up there high on that list as well, and these are all issues I have to deal with as well.)

With that in mind, here’s a window into my thought processes, so that everybody around me will better understand my decision making process, in regards to music making locally here in Austin.

If you see my onstage in my own hometown, then you are looking at someone practicing for a gig somewhere else. I have established a working reputation as a first call tuba player and string bassist, so I need to keep my performance chops up and sharp as I will be playing nationally and internationally with some pretty heavy cats on a regular basis. Austin is a great town to be from, but it’s not where a professional plys his trade. The places where my labors are rewarded are very far from here in fact. “A prophet is without honor in his own hometown” to paraphrase the Christian bible. The famed Taraf de Haidouks, having toured the world for nearly a decade, played their very first concert in their native Romania only last year. My own Bad Livers were a headlining draw in Toronto and Chicago before we got our first press clipping in the Austin Chronicle. Ultimately, being from Austin has far more value than being in Austin, as any touring musician can attest.

Ridgetop Syncopators

If you see me with anything other than a bass or a tuba in my hands, then you are looking at someone basically pursuing a hobby. I will share with you a little secret that I've never told anyone. Many years ago, when I was touring with Bad Livers as a duo, my partner Danny Barnes become unable to sing. Up to that point I had learned how to sing back up and how to talk to an audience, but I didn’t have the skills to lead a show by myself. I was deeply humiliated by the experience, which had happened on more than one occasion and in different musical settings. I vowed that I would never be in that position again, and set about to start my own ban which eventually became the Ridgetop Syncopators. Here it is years later and all my stated goals have been achieved. I can front any gig that comes my way playing a variety of instruments. I’ve since been hired to front other peoples bands, play banjo in Veracruz, and most surprising of all, take the Syncopators to the Kennedy Center, and the Calgary and Winnepeg Folk Festivals. Pretty darn amazing achievements given the original context of the project. For the record, as its mission as been accomplished, I have literally no plans that group. I am taking the dates as they come to me however.

Any gig out of town beats any gig in Austin. This should be obvious. Not getting a crowd in town? That’s because this market is over saturated. I’d rather play a gig in Houston, Dallas, San Antonio, or hell even La Grange, than at any of the “hip” Austin venues as it creates actual traction and gets your project down the road. Additionally, if someone doesn’t want to tour, they are telling you essentially that they are not interested in music making as a career, which is fine for someone who just wants to kick around town playing music as way to blow off steam and have a little fun. Austin is filled to brim with these people in fact. However you’d do well to avoid them if you wish to prosper in music making. Truth is, there’s more than one bandleader I know who pays great money and is coming up on the industry radar simply by never playing in Austin, and concentrating only playing where people actually pay money for music.

All bets are off when it comes to friends. There’s a maxim among the jazz musicians I work with in NYC use when deciding if they’ll take a gig or not. They call it the Gig Triangle. (It was even written about in Bass Player magazine recently.) On any date offered you have three major factors: the quality of the music being made, the amount of money being paid and then what we call the “hang;” best described as the joy one has with being around one’s friends. The theory is that you got to have at least 2 factors in the positive to do any gig. Therefore, if the music is inspiring and the folks are great but the pay is light, that’s just fine. But no amount of money will get me onstage playing crappy tunes with people I have no respect for.

All bets are off when it comes to culture. Music is a vital aspect of many cultures, some I’ve even a member of. When a member of my community calls me up to ask if I can play a simcha, I’ll do everything I can to make the date. Not for free mind you, as your own people should be made to understand the real value of your service. But if you wish to count yourself as a member of your own community, you really should work to fulfill the role in which your music was meant to be played. This is also why you’ll see me singing Czech polkas at the Kolach Festival in Caldwell, or playing Polish dances at the Wiesczonski’s anniversary party in Tomball as well.


And when I tell you “Your band sucks.” I mean it with love. Seriously, I wouldn’t have told you anything if I didn’t admire you and think highly of you. I just don’t posses a gentle, or even diplomatic, nature try though I might.

Hopefully with my intentions displayed as transparently as I can, my actions will not be misunderstood or misconstrued in any way. That is my humble prayer.

As humans, we’ve all been designed as incredibly complex creatures capable of both the greatest goods as well as the foulest of evils and I’m as capable of both ends of that spectrum as any other. Hopefully with the kindness of my friends, my family and the charitable nature of my compatriots and co workers, we will all enter into a New Year filled with only happiness and prosperity, baruch Hashem.

My 2 hours as a Columbian Vallenato Bassist

"aka done stranger things, but can't rightly recall when"

OK, so there I am at the Lowell Folk Festival. Jet lagged, worn out from a busy week at my violin shop, and looking to be a bit drunk on my new home infused vodka. Mark Halata and Texavia, the group who I've come to play with, has just put in a fine solid set of Texas- Czech Polka, C&W and assorted Gulf Coast sounds to an very appreciative dance crowd.

I decide to stick around and check out the next act, Sensacion Vallenata con Gustavo Nieto from the DC area. Now I'm a big fan of vallenato, a Columbian accordion based dance music that gave the world the "cumbia," and I have a couple of CD's that date from the classic 70's era when the music first started getting attention outside of it's home. I really dug the way the bass seemed to lazily lope through the tunes, working in conjunction with the percussion. Relaxed and behind the beat like old-school Reggae for instance. My pal Mike Maddux even has a vallento band here in Austin that I enjoy seeing. He's informed me however that the music has progressed quite a bit from the old records I like so much, with a VERY active and busy bass style. (For lack of a better analogy: I like the marijuana bass, and it's the cocaine bass favored today, if you will;-)

Having never seen a real live Colombian playing the new complex style, I begged off returning to the hotel for a much needed rest and hung out on the side of the stage with the amiable monitor mix man. We watched the band set up and immediately there seemed to be a problem. No bass player. They were all set up ready to play and there was no sign of the bassist (or their lead singer as it turned out.) Now I don't speak much Spanish but I did wave the accordion player over and inquire. He tells me, I think, that the bass player drove up from DC and got caught in a storm and was running late. He was mighty upset about it.

Gustavo Nieto

Well says I, "Yo toquar el basso, in estilio de Tejano." "Vamanos!" says he.

As I amble onstage I note It's a good sized band; with accordion and 4 percussionists and vocals all around. I can see in their eyes that they are spooked. It's a big festival gig, and 3 members of their band aren't there for the down beat on the big dance stage. Then some goofy looking Guerro in a cowboy hat crawls up on stage and sets up a bass amp. It must have been unnerving. They had a large plastic bottle of "Coke" which was actually the best Rum I ever had, and everybody was taking a hit to calm their nerves. They put me between 2 percussionist and only one spoke much English. The accordionist turns to me, gives me a key, plays a bit of the melody and then we're off.

OK, let's go back to what I noted before. I dig the "classicos" style of laid-back cumbia and I even know a few hits ("El Gota Fria," "Matilda Linda," etc..) so I can fake it. But only to a point. I suck it up, remembering that the whitey's like me in the audience will never know the difference, watch the boys for cues and concentrate on summoning the booty motivator. Whatever I'm playing seems to be working, and the dance floor is packed. The rum is mixing with the vodka from before and that mixed with jet lag and exhaustion I have mildly left my body. There's only one tune I bow out of; a meringue a style I know nothing about at all. The boys in the band are all smiles, and they are a rocking. Killer vocals, aggressive, funky accordion and a deep, deep percussion section. A total blast to play with.

After 90 minutes, and a sweaty dance floor, it's over. After I pack up, the boys all come over to thank me for hanging in. In my best attempt a Spanish I try and tell them that I hope I didn't embarrass them too awful bad. I collapse into a waiting shuttle and head to the arms of Morpheus.

Next morning I'm told that the bassist and the other members of the band were in fact in Lowell that night. They just couldn't find the festival. (Insert bass player joke here.)

Never did get a chance to hear them play, though the staff said the regular bassist was indeed a virtuoso, busy player. (I'm also told that the festival crew liked the band better when I was playing with them, but what do they know from Vallenato?)

One of the things I like most about big folk festivals is that you get to see and interact with some many great different styles of music. It's not often I get to sit in as well! Lets see what happens next week when I go up to the Festival for Cultural Exchange in Portland Maine.

Mark Vs. Jimmy Sturr

Several months back I got a call from what seemed to be a nice journalist fellow in Boston MA. Evidently he had been assigned to do a story on a well known East Coast Polka performer named Jimmy Sturr. While researching the story he did a Google search (and that seems to be just about all journalists do these days it seems for research) and found this cute thread on the newsgroup:

"Subject: Re: Question - Who is Jimmy Sturr ?-WHO CARES?
View: Complete Thread (17 articles)
Newsgroups: alt.music.polkas
Date: 1996/07/25
Dave Bedrich wrote:
 
For the sake of real polka music, Jimmy Sturr should be
banned from performing. This guy gives Czech, Polish and
German music a bad name. pure commercialized CRAP.
Amen Brother!
There's an old Yiddish saying that the Grandson wants to know most what the Grandfather has tried hard to forget.
It's probably easy to target Sturr, you can't begrudge his commercial success. But what he has to do with polka is beyond me. I've seen the Sturr show twice in as many years, and while I'm sure some would consider him an engaging showman, I found his performance glitzy and hollow, devoid of the very elements of soul that drew me to polka music in the first place. A few more generations subjected to Sturr, and the many others who follow lockstep in his "crossover" wake, and they'll be no tradition left in polka music.
I can't see that happening here in Texas, though. Folks 'round here still attach a great sense of community, a shared heritage and cultural pride in their polka, whether it makes them any money or not.
Just one fan's observations.
Mark Rubin"

Well, I'll tell you I learned two valuable lessons the day this guy calls me. 1) what you say on line stays around for all to see FOREVER, and 2) I still feel very much the same way 8 years later.

So Mr. Big City Paper Writer asks me to elaborate on my on line comments form so long ago. I commence to spend around 2 hours on the phone with this fellow all the while trying real hard to choose my words carefully. I've heard lots of negative squak about Sturr's bubble gum version of Polka culture from just about every musician I'd encountered here in Texas, Mr. Bedrich (see above) included. I was VERY important for me to make clear that I am not a Polka person, just a geeky fan, and that I spoke entirely from the perspective as an outsider. More importantly I felt it was important to give voice to those musicians that I had met and worked with who ARE polka people and would never get a call from a writer from Boston.

I hoped that I could reasonably speak on the nature of folk music created within a specific community, the multiple levels of context that informs that cultural expression through dance and music. And how that wasn't necessarily a purley vocational pursuit and that maybe that in fact wasn't such a bad thing after all.

I also brought up what I though was a provocative question as to why someone born and raised an Irishman, like Mr. Sturr, would want to change his surname for professional reasons and pass himself off as a "polka person," (the accepted codified language for Slavic-Americans.) Only to then bemoan the low pay scale of his career choice all too late in life. It seemed more than a little bit sad and pathetic, on many levels.

It's a situation that I, an Okie Jew, have been presented with on many, many occasions. I myself have performed on Festival stages literally across the world representing the cultural expression of groups that I AM IN NO WAY A MEMBER OF; Texas-Polish, Texas-Moravian, Texas-Mexican, Persian, Armenian and even Anglo Texan. At no time have I ever been confused that I was in fact an Okie Jew just lucky enough to be playing with these groups. And I tend to feel that reason I am afforded any respect from those communities is because everyone Iπm involved with musically is quite clear about my identity and my intents. I will never forget the first time I performed with Santiago Jimenez, Jr. outside of the US. Moments before we went onstage he stopped me, looked me straight in the eye and said "Tonight, you represent the people of San Antonio. Don't forget it." I took that to mean that I must hold myself to the highest professional standard onstage and off, all the while not forgetting I am not actually a hispanic person from San Antonio.

From interviews I've read in the press, I think Mr. Sturr has most likely forgotten that he's "not from San Antonio" if you get my drift...

OK, that's what I though I said. Here's what made it to print:
Mark Rubin also checked out the boys, but for a different reason.
Rubin played bass and tuba in the Bad Livers, an acclaimed
Texas-based roots band that released a half-dozen albums from
1992 to 2000. He's produced polka bands, and he knew about
Sturr's Grammys. He wanted to see the man behind them. He
wasn't pleased.

``It reminded me of a really smarmy Vegas act,'' says Rubin. ``It
was really quite depressing.''

As Rubin sees it, Sturr is so desperate to commercialize polka,
he's forgotten why people play it.

``It's just an indicator of how culturally void the American culture
  has become,'' says Rubin. ``Polka is not supposed to be  
commercial. For me, it was kind of sad.''
 
 Other detractors have not been quite as tactful.
  
 ``For the sake of real polka music, Jimmy Sturr should be
  banned from performing,''  one disgruntled fan writes on the
  alt.music.polkas newsgroup.
 
  ``This guy gives Czech, Polish, and German music a bad name. Pure commercialized CRAP.''
 
The criticism does bother Sturr.
 
``They're not purists,'' he says. ``They're dumbbells.''
 
For context's sake,you can read the whole article here.

Well, I guess I can blame the editors. After all these years I should really know better than try and have an actual conversation with someone who in fact is only really listening when what you tell him someting that fits into his preconceived agenda.

Personally, I didn't think much of it until someone directed my attention to the, um, reaction to the article right there on the old chat room again. Most involved me getting my ass kicked by a gentleman with the delightful e-mail address "polkabiker," (now there's two communities you don't see getting together enough.)

Most disturbingly, tucked in all the discussion was this missive from the PRESIDENT OF ROUNDER RECORDS (not coincidently Mr. Sturr's record label, who has made quite a good coin selling his music) who felt the need to address this pressing issue and evidently had the free time expend on the subject. As I had originally feared, he felt the need to "out" me as a Polka nobody. Oh yeah, that and my old band sucked too. Read on:
From: Ken Irwin (keni@rounder.com)
Subject: Re: Globe article on Sturr   
Newsgroups: alt.music.polkas
Date: 2003-09-09 14:07:09 PST

 
In correspondence with the writer following the release of the
article, I pointed out that it was inappropriate for a writer to quote
an anonymous contributor to a list and further went on to say that
if I were to do so, I could find negative things to say about the
Pope,or anyone else on a given list serve. Geoff conceded that
that was a good point as he did about my point that Mark Rubin
was not necessarily the most appropriate person in the polka
field to check with. I went to on to point out that if you were to
speak to a traditional old-time musician, many would likely have
scandalous things to say about Mark's group the Bad Livers.
 

Wow.
Until then, I had always counted Mr. Irwin as one of the good guys in the business, and had shopped quite a few Polka releases to his company. Now I see why he passed on all of them without comment. Disappointed is not quite the word.

I will however tell you that since all that ruckus came up I have received so many positive e-mail and letters from hard working polka musicians from all over who appreciated my comments and wished they'd said the very same thing. As long as they all buy me a beer when they run into, it will have all been worth it.

Lessons learned from this experience:
1) Don't EVER post to newsgroups unless you care to talk about a decade later.
2) No matter what you say prepared to have it taken down wrong.
3) Evidently I'll never be a Rounder Records recording artist!

Caveat internet!