The 10 Rock Commandments Of Davíd Garza, or, The Book Of Dah-veed:


I. In a pretentious, uber-ironic, over-produced pop universe of false prophets, plastic product, and producer pimps pushing for the man, the order of the day is to out-produce, outclass, over-croon, ultra-pose — to be more pretentious than thou in extremis ad absurdum ex nihilo.
Ergo: Overdub. Irving, Texas-born Garza “used to hear voices, and used to sing along” (“Drone” 3:02) in the mystical, apocryphal days of youth when Texas airwave firmaments supplied early-’80s manna of Tejano cumbias and Cheap Trick as a calling to the mantle of crypto-Latino singer/songwriter/ guitarist. Relocating to the University Of Texas/Austin “in a silent violent generation,” he is re-“born in the shadow of a stadium” as Dah-veed (“God’s Hands” 3:22), campus troubadour and eventual creator/sustainer of Wide Open Records, which releases a dozen of Garza’s albums, EPs, and so-called manifestos while financing indie evangelistic tours.
II. If the right hand offends, pursue big-label attention with the left.
Upon securing a Beck-like deal to release 1998’s This Euphoria on Atlantic while reserving the right to still put out whatever he wants indie-style, the ridiculously prolific Garza continues to churn out cuts like a stuck jukebox — 1999 brings the full-length Kingdom Come And Go on Wide Open, and even the Time Warner AOL-marketed Overdub contains a “hidden” version of the vinyl-released, four-track counterpart Underdub. Somewhere within the frenzy of activity, he shoots a commercial for Best Buy’s “Find ‘Em First” series, with the decree: “You don’t know me, but you will.”
III. Keep your set together, tight, solid, and ready for gigs galore — “Saturday night/It’s judgment day” (“Crown Of Thorns” 3:23), but the time is always right for loss of faith, falling short of the glory, and of course, confession: “[I] used to breathe blessings all around town/Used to get down, used to get wild/Used to get holy, used to start fires/ Used to harmonize to the stereo/And now I just drone” (“Drone” 3:02).
IV. Cuts should neatly fit within three-to-four-and-a-half-minute sermon size for possible airplay. “If they ain’t down with your dublingo, if they don’t hear no single/When you’re trying to get on the radio, don’t sweat when you quit yourself and go solo/And if you feel like Jethro on death row/Better call and request your own video/Soul is a four-letter word/And don’t forget to say baby baby baby baby baby baby” (“Say Baby” 3:50).
V. Deliver such anti-pop bites with vocal fragility and wan, fey poses to sweeten thy lyrical kissoffs. Songs like that are virtually guaranteed to review themselves. Invite Juliana Hatfield, another like-minded babe in the woods, to help elegize innocence lost (“Keep on Crying” 4:34).
VI. Let someone else rage against the machine. Empty and yet super-suggestive references to Black Panthers, Zapatistas, and executions never hurt, though.
VII. Skepticism of the mysterious ways of rock ‘n’ roll always leads back to reaffirmation, the dance of belief, the leap of faith, direct experience of the divine through kick-ass riffs: “Touched by a human omen/Try not to tremble/My eyes play tricks when I blink/Confetti snow and found fire” (“Blow My Mind” 4:06).
VIII. I forget what eight was for, but
IX. If major-label success just doesn’t happen, then hit the 4-track, jack. Go “back to the womb, back to the van/Goddamn/Praise the Lord and shake your ass” (“God’s Hands” 3:22).
X. If you do arrive in the Promised Land, don’t let anyone call you a sellout, because even “poor Jesus still trying to crossover/But it ain’t a sin to swim” (“Say Baby” 3:50). Now, is that Gee-zuss or Hay-soos you’re talking about, Señor Garza?
November 2001, Illinois Entertainer

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