To hear a Mike Votava song is to find yourself wanting to call him up immediately and bypass the whole “getting to know you” thing and go straight to hanging out and laughing about life’s ridiculous inanities. I don’t know that I’ve heard a single shred of evidence that he takes himself too seriously as an artist* or even a human. Heck, every release on his Bandcamp page is “supported” by the guy’s fan account (c’mon, all of us artists do it, but Mr. V has the gonads to own the crap out of it with comments, even!).
“Broken Heads” is no different and thank the stars for that—I didn’t know I needed a song in my life that makes me picture a female Clint Eastwood circa Gran Torino, bolt-action and all, but goddammit, here it is. Riding a jangle-blues wave into a full-arrangement assault of giddy guitar parts and low low bass, “Broken Heads” drips with the sort of seemingly-off-the-cuff-but-surely-well-studied wordplay at which Mr. Votava excels. It’s jaunty and it’s fun and it’s too freaking short and I really want to dial in the crisp sound of that lead guitar and put it in every song I record. (*I take the first part back—the guy’s got killer guitar chops!) Plus, decoder rings get a nod!
BONUS: After you’ve fully integrated “Broken Heads” into your daily routine, go listen to the album on which it appears (Tuesday Groove Kabobs) and laugh like a damned fool (I did!) at “Leaves of Grass My Ass,” the greatest ode/rotten tomato to Walt Whitman in the history of music. Then, let’s all go to Seattle and make Mike Votava go out for a pizza with us.