Happy Summertime fun!

Hey Cornbread Wednesday people!!!

We here at Native Central hope you are doing what we are doing — having fun, and enjoying a little time off. We haven’t even cooked up any cornbread this week!

We hope you enjoyed the visits our drummer, Dave Thomas, made into our vaults. The results, Nativology pts 1 & 2, are amazing, even if we do say so ourselves!!

Dave is working on some music of his own right at this very second, but he will return to scouring the vaults soon.

In the meantime, he is planning a Native live album to be taken from multi-track sources. He’ll have more on that, and other Native goodies he’s planning, in the near future.

Meanwhile, there is great Native music to catch up on at our bandcamp site — just click on the music links in the sidebar and it’s party time!!

To which we proudly say — “Drinky drinky, smokey, smokey!”

If you don’t risk anything, you’re gonna risk it all

This is Nativology.

Every Wednesday, Cornbread Wednesday, that is, my band, Native posts an unreleased song from our vast underground archives in the Cave of Dave.

I, the just-mentioned Dave, as Archivist, Historian, Rockologist, and all-round Pain in the Ass, do ascribe to scribe some scribbles about said unreleased songs, in the hope that the listener may have some contextual coherency, greater musical understanding, and less of a need to jump out the window.

Music can do that. Especially good music. And, music that is damn good — well, that might actually make you feel like shutting the window, cracking open a tall, frosty one, and telling Ethel to put on that crazy flannel thing with the straps.

Today’s selection hails from the mighty year of 1995, when men were men, and women were getting sick of it.

Mat Hutt is the main songwriter of this piece, and it comes to you today as an unreleased tune for a fine, very understandable reason. But, it’s one we’ve forgotten. Now, armed with the 20/20 hindsight of our 20/20 foresight, we can see that it was more like 20/20 shortsightedness. We rarely played this wonderful song much, and it never really got its’ day in the sunlight; it was left on the shelf like a can of dried tomatoes.

Mat, our chief songsmith, really delved into transcribing and translating our tacit belief that if we put ourselves out there, on the line, performing all the time; if we were perfectly willing to starve in the process & utterly fearless in the face of the vast Dali-esque plane of existence that is an artist’s life (complete with melting watches and Madonnas made of bees), that we would persevere.

To do otherwise, to waste our talent and bend to conventional wisdom, which says: “Get a job, Jerkface. Music is a nice hobby for special people, of which you are not one.”

But, the problem with conventional wisdom is that it is rarely conventional, and never wise.

Mat got it right. Not just for us, but for anyone with talent who dares to throw themselves out there, Candide-like into the sometimes fulfilling, oftentimes uncaring, always-changing Tilt-a-Whirl world a performer faces each night:

If you don’t risk anything, you’re gonna risk it all.

So, I’m going to sing for you

Even If I Fall

Cornbread Wednesday