It was 1994. Brown was 29 years old, fresh off multiple failed attempts to grow a beard, attempts during which he was unable to power through that dreaded itching phase.
“That time, it didn’t itch,” he says triumphantly. “I think it was because I’d set my mind to it. I was gonna grow a beard no matter what, and my brain didn’t let it itch.”
Seven years prior, a clean-shaven Brown was finishing his degree in video and music business at Southwestern Adventist University just south of Fort Worth. He spent his nights exploring the music scene in Dallas, finding a home at the Bar of Soap open mic.
It was there Brown first saw Cricket Taylor, an alum of Booker T. Washington High School for the Performing and Visual Arts, who performed at Bar of Soap every Monday night. Taylor became something of a muse for Brown, who began writing poetry inspired by those nights.
“I gave her some of what I was writing, and she said, ‘Why don't you get up and read some poetry between those sets?’ That was my first public performance,” he says.
Inspired, Brown started performing at open mics around Dallas, but he could ride the poetry scene only so far. Brown began to teach himself how to play the bass, evolving his art as he learned.
“I started writing songs in ’93. I was still kind of getting my feet wet,” he says. “But I'd been writing poetry already for almost a decade. I already knew how to say what I want to say. So it didn't take too long for me to get used to doing that in the musical structure.”
Adding musicality to his writing was new to him. Once upon a time, so was performing.
“When I was growing up, I was always a shy kid,” Brown says. “But I always enjoyed acting. I never wanted to go on stage as myself. But when I was acting, I was somebody else on stage and I was always comfortable.”
As soon as he began performing open mics, he reverted to a similar strategy.
“I'm just going to pretend it’s acting,” he says. “I'm going to play the part of myself. I'm going to create this character based on me. The character was more outgoing, and I found that that was comfortable for me.”
Now that a character was presented, it was time to develop it. Brown was always a fan of musical satirists like Weird Al Yankovic and Tom Lehrer, so he decided to attempt writing comedy songs.
“I wanted to write a song based around those sort of playground taunts,” Brown says. “There's childhood things like nanny nanny boo boo. I see London. I see France. I see someone’s underpants. I did another one based around phrases that have a twist in them. Two wrongs don't make a right. But three rights make a left. And I’ll give you a spoiler here, at the end of the song, the last chorus is, ‘You can pick your friends, and pick your nose, but you can't wipe your friends on the sofa’ You know, an extra twist at the end.”
Brown’s creativity was reaching its peak. At least that’s what he thought before he started co-writing songs.
His songwriting partner? His past self.
“I’ve started co-writing songs with myself. I’ll take a poem I wrote in my 20s, and now in my 50s I turn it into a song." – Kendall Brown
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“I’ve started co-writing songs with myself,” Brown says with a laugh. “I’ll take a poem I wrote in my 20s, and now in my 50s I turn it into a song. My 20-something self and my 50-something myself are two different people. They're related, like cousins or something, but they're not the same person.”
Between self-collaboration, lyrical twists and taunts, Brown has suddenly realized a flaw in his catalog.
“I’ve got so much material, I’ve written so many songs. But so many people have never heard them,” he says. “I wanted to do a live performance of these comedy songs, record it and get them out for people to hear.”
Finding a home for a one-man comedy/poetry hybrid music show is easier said than done. In fact, it’s probably never been said before. But if you can co-write songs with your past self, you can probably put together a show for them.
Brown did just that. His event will be held from 1–5 p.m. on May 11, in the backyard patio at Deep Ellum Art Co. But there's pressure beyond just putting on a good show.
“My biological clock is ticking,” he explains. “I feel like I want to get all this out while I still can. Who knows how long I'm going to be around. I'm going to do this big thing, and I'm going to record it. If I happen to not last longer than that, at least if I've got that, I'll feel like I've accomplished something really important.”
Brown, now 58, has been bearded for the last 30 years.
“In the fall of 2019, I just had this realization,” he recalls. “It'd been 25 years since I last shaved. It was already like September or October when this occurred to me. It’s kind of too late to really plan that. Maybe I'll do 26 next year. Well, that next year, of course, turned out to be 2020.”
You remember the pandemic.
Brown has two things to celebrate. Why not combine them?
On May 11, he debuts a full set of never-before-heard comedy songs. Also on May 11, Kendall Brown's beard turns 30. Get ready to laugh.
“Getting people to laugh is good for their physical health, so I am doing a service to humanity,” Brown proclaims. “Because without laughter, you’re dead.”
