An interview with Dean Haakenson of Be Brave Bold Robot

Dean Haakenson (right) outside Luna's in midtown Sacramento.

When did music become something you just absolutely had to have in your life?

I think I could answer that two ways.

On the one hand, I think I realized that music, the musicality of things, was a necessary part of life, something that permeated every thing around me, from a young age. I can remember making noises with my mouth, and thinking they were fun to make, and, you know, always singing along with the radio. I guess everybody has done that, but something about my memory of it all tells me that I always knew that music is for any and all that choose to embrace it. I wish I would have kept up with those mouth noises, I'd be a much better beatboxer now.

So, on the other hand, the part of "having music in my life" that incorporates the slightly regimented processes of writing chord progressions on the guitar, and writing words to sing, and then singing them, and playing that music in front of people, I think I started to realize that all of that was a necessary part of this role I had assumed right around when I was hitting my twenties. I had always sang loudly to the music I loved when I was in high school, and I even played a folk song on the guitar in front of my senior class., so I loved music, and didn't mind trying to play it in front of people. I realized I wasn't shy, very very nervous and anxious, yes, that's built into my personality, and I don't fear it so much the more I play, but I realized that I tend to express that anxiety in an outpouring of myself instead of an internalizing. Even though I was playing rehearsed guitar chords and singing in front of people, I don't think I truly understood what it meant to be a musician, someone who has to have music in their life in a practical, experiential creative way.

I still don't think I exactly know what it means to be a musician, and I have a hard time calling myself that as I have a whole lot to learn about guitar and music theory, but I have now known since, I was, to name a number, 23, that I absolutely have to have music in my life, and, like all our muscles, it is something that I must keep in my life to become more experienced and familiar with it, and it is something that will make my life and the lives of my children and all around me richer

Short answer - early twenties, when I realized that practice makes one better at something.

You mentioned that your performance anxiety leads to an outpouring of self when you play. What sort of reaction do you perceive audience members having in response to this?

I think, in general, they "like" it. I think people inherently like anything that looks and feels honest, and that's what I think is perceived when I am performing and letting it all hang out, so to speak. I get a little spastic, my anxiety makes my heightened heart rate and frenetic muscle movements cause my body to start sweating and sweating. I am urged to speak into the microphone. I usually don't know what to say, and sometimes that's very apparent, and I speak gibberish, but sometimes, something funny and poetic comes out, but always, always, I think it is perceived as something honest. It's like desperate lustful sparking electrical wires of nerve and vibration flailing out into the abyss of the audience, just hoping for any sort of connection.

I also think that it puts some people off. They came to see a musical show presented in a professional and straightfoward way, and are a bit embarrassed for me and wish I wouldn't say the same thing over and over and would just play the damn songs, but half of that perception is my own self-deprecation and I think the other half rationalizes the whole thing this way: even if I am perceived as an embarrassing pile of childish nerves, then at least I have expressed myself, and I think that is more important than anything, and, if I have to off put a few folks to make some drunkies laugh, that's pretty important too. Yeah , I think my unabashed visceral ramblings and nervous nincompoopery connect with people's baser instincts in a way that does more good than bad.

Where's your favorite place to play in Sacramento?

I don't really have a favorite, per se. I appreciate the different feelings that the different venues give me, each one having its own stage and bar and audience area configurations. I have played lots of shows at The Fox and Goose Public House; the old wood in that place, and the friendly bartenders who I have come to know, and the comfort of performance that has come through playing there so often, those things make it enjoyable to be at The Fox and Goose. I've also played at Marilyn's a bunch of times now, and I like the big stage, and the also friendly bartenders and the tall tables. The sound systems at Marilyn's and Old Ironsides are pretty good. Luna's is a nice intimate stage place, and the owner Art is a really nice guy. I don't know, I think after a while, and after a bunch of varied experiences at each venue, it's hard to pick a favorite.

There was this place in Old Sac called The Speakeasy, I don't think they do shows there anymore, but I enjoyed being at that place because the building was so old, and when you walked outside to have a smoke, you were in the middle of the Old Sacramento old brick buildings, and I love old buildings, and that was a big plus to that place. I know that I have certain feelings about venues where I haven't played that many shows. Old Ironsides, The Blue Lamp, I've only played a couple shows at those places so the thought of playing there still feels new and exciting.

Back to the music. A lot of your songs seem to share a lot of yourself. While writing a new song, have you ever written a lyric that you soon realize you aren't ready to sing in public quite yet because it's too personal, or seems too recent?

What's the saying, "All stories are fiction?" Something like that. I think that's very true. Well, as true as "There is a bit of truth in every lie", etc. I think it comes down to how easy it is for me to share my private life with others., and it's not hard at all for me. Live out loud, etc., and don't be afraid to tell other people things. Either they'll appreciate your honesty, or they will judge (in which case, fuck them), or they won't care.

That's the part that sucks, displaying your intimate details for somebody who doesn't appreciate the fact that you just shared part of yourself. But one who is willing to freely drop their intimates all around, must not be offended when others do not pick them up, I tell myself.

Where was I? Oh yes, I certainly do write from a personal perspective. It's just the easiest way to formulate the details of a story when you have them fresh in your memory, but I must always interject a bit of fiction to fill in the details, and sometimes, although I will write in the first person, the story is entirely or mostly fictional, perhaps spawned from a line about some sort of existential sentiment that I thought up when I was thinking about homeless people or something, but ends up being something completely made up, that sounds completely true. So, when I blur the lines between what really happened, and what could have happened, I end up just trying to tell a story, and it makes no difference to me what people think about it, or if it's true, or how sad the actual experience actually made me. In that sense, I regard myself with zero seriousness, as opposed to my actually personal experiences, which I can sometimes be far too sensitive about. Sometimes? What?!

I tend to think that the best art shares a piece of the artist with the outside world. Do you agree? Assuming you do, how do you react when you see an artist that isn't making the connection between the internal and external?

Unless the artist was attempting to be ironical or mocking or trying to make a point about affected expression, I think that I would think they were boring as shit. Art is honesty, I completely agree. There is a whole lot wrong with this world, I think. I don't have any answers, I don't even dedicate much of my time to figuring out how to make it a better place, but one thing I do know is that when I see somebody who is not allowing themselves to connect their internal with their external, I feel as though everything would be a whole lot easier and logical and fulfilling if they did.

I want to get that person to "see the light," and I want to have a conversation with them just to see if I can draw their insides out, but I don't think I would really enjoy observing or applauding somebody who embodied that sort of fake energy in any sort of performance setting. I'd just change the channel, or go do something else, or something...

Complete subject change. If beer was a friend, what type of friend would it be?

Beer would be a complex friend indeed. Pretty much about as complex a friend as we are "friends" to ourselves. I think foremost, beer would be an enabler, one of those friends that lets you believe that EVERYTHING that you do is exactly the right thing. Now, a variation of that is usually inherent in the people we call our good friends, because we want to be around people who think that we are funny and wise and capable of good decision making, but most of our friends would probably say something if they saw us making bad decisions (drinking to excess every night, ravenously pursuing the services of sex industry workers, etc.). In fact, I think the older I get, the more I appreciate people in my life who point out most of my mistakes and shortcomings,it challenges the enlightenment seeker inside of me, but that, my friend, is not beer. Beer is a yes man, blindy loving everything I do. The only reason I think I would still listen to beer is because his convincing agreement goes down with unwavering smoothness. Sure, you have to put up with some occasional poopy panties, small messes in the bathroom, but it's worth it. Hell, people marry trophy husbands and wives, and put up with the impending dissatisfaction for those same reasons. The luxury of a an amber cream top telling you how wonderful you are. I could ponder that with the eventual realization that a full time friendship with beer is something that will lack the hard work of self-improvement and the experience of relationship growth, that one would eventually end said relationship with Beer, but, I tell you Eric, I don't know how to break it to him gently, so he keeps coming around. Don't tell him I said any of this, PLEASE.

So concludes this interview, and Dean, don't fret. I will not tell beer any of this the next time I see him, although I always thought of beer as more of a she. How else could beer so easily break my heart?