FIELD NOTE // THE BAND NAMES CHANGED. THE HUMANS KEPT PLAYING.
Combo Diablo, the Doo-Dads, and a Slightly Feral Journey Through Kansas City Music History
By Alethea F. Mehdipour — Slightly Feral Media
THE SHIRT
The first thing the raccoon saw was the drummer’s shirt.
THE GRAND EMPORIUM.
The letters reached into an old, poorly labeled section of the archives, grabbed an entire collection of memories, and dumped them directly onto the floor. The raccoon may have squealed. Not a dignified, professional Kansas City concert photographer squeal. More like a slightly feral teenage girl encountering a boy band in the wild. This was unexpected. She had arrived to photograph Kansas City rock ’n’ roll band Combo Diablo. Instead, before the band had played a single note, drummer Joe Gose was standing there wearing a doorway into the raccoon’s own live-music history.
BEFORE THE DIGITAL EVIDENCE
Many years ago—decades, even—before digital cameras allowed a raccoon to take 1,200 photographs and quietly dispose of the evidence that 900 of them were terrible, she made her first attempt at live-music photography inside the Grand Emporium in Kansas City.
The Grand Emporium was dirty in all the right ways.
It was not the kind of dirty that required cleaning up. It was the kind that proved something had happened there. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with concert posters. The posters continued into the bathroom and, if the raccoon’s recovered archives are accurate, onto the ceiling.
This may be where the fascination with Kansas City venue bathroom walls began. Further study is probably required.
A neon sign reading 18th and Vine stood on a post in the middle of the room. Another neon image of Stevie Ray Vaughan glowed from the wall. In the far back corner was Amazing Grace’s barbecue operation, serving food from a makeshift kitchen inside one of Kansas City’s most important live-music rooms. The raccoon can see it in her brain. There is also a completely unnecessary but historically delightful family footnote here: the raccoon’s stepdad’s brother apparently dated Amazing Grace way back in the day.
Kansas City is not a large city. Kansas City is a very complicated collection of humans who have all met each other at least once.
THE FIRST FIELD NOTES
The raccoon remembers seeing Chris Duarte at the Grand Emporium on New Year’s Eve. She also remembers Annetta “Cotton Candy” Washington and So Many Men. There were others. Their names have slipped behind boxes in the archives, but pieces of those nights remain.
A hippie couple wearing fringe danced between the tables. A tall man moved through the room in a full-length fur coat, pointy boots, and a hat that appeared to have been fashioned after Mr. Bojangles. The room was crowded with live blues, barbecue smoke, clothing choices, neon light, and humans who knew exactly why they were there.
The Grand Emporium eventually followed the raccoon into college.
Experiences from that room became assignments in a creative-writing class many years later. The raccoon had already been writing for most of her life. She began writing poetry in second grade and has had more than one piece published over the years. Still, some of the best pieces she produced for that college class came from the Grand Emporium. That room gave a young raccoon something worth trying to describe. It also gave her one of her earliest reasons to carry a camera into Kansas City live music.
Somewhere along the way, those memories disappeared into the archives. They were not gone. They were simply waiting inside Joe Gose’s shirt.
AN ALMOST-MEDIOCRE PHOTOGRAPH
The raccoon was so excited to see the Grand Emporium shirt—and so thoroughly flooded by beautiful memories she had forgotten she possessed—that she failed at the very task she had arrived to perform.
She photographed the shirt. Almost. The resulting image is almost mediocre. This is particularly unfortunate because the raccoon is allegedly a professional concert photographer.
However, the photograph still contains the important evidence: The shirt existed. The raccoon saw it. The archives opened.
The shirt also started a conversation. It took approximately .28 seconds for the raccoon to realize that the members of Combo Diablo were going to be fun.
FRIENDS WITH THE DRUMMER
This was consistent with the rest of the room. Much of the audience seemed to be made up of people who knew the members of Combo Diablo personally. Friends had come to see their friends play music.
The raccoon noticed something very quickly.
THE SMILES.
This may have been the smiley-est collection of humans she had encountered in some time. There were smiles onstage. There were smiles in the audience. There were smiles during the conversations before the music began.
For a Kansas City band called COMBO DIABLO, there was a suspicious amount of joy in the room.
The seriousness of the name appeared to be a front.
THE SLIGHTLY HAUNTED PEDALBOARD
Then there was the electric guitarist’s pedalboard. Don “Gator” Wilson had assembled a collection of completely individualized little gadgets, each apparently responsible for convincing the guitar to make a different kind of noise. These were not anonymous factory pedals lined up neatly and behaving themselves.
Each one had its own design. Its own identity. Possibly its own backstory. Collectively, they looked like a row of tiny, slightly haunted machines waiting for someone to step on them.
No definitive answers were available. What was clear was that this was not simply a collection of guitar effects. It was another piece of Combo Diablo’s personality: individualized, a little strange, and far more interesting than anything designed to disappear quietly beneath someone’s boots.
The raccoon photographed the evidence.
Carefully. Some equipment should not be startled.
THE STORIES CAME FREELY
As the raccoon talked with the members of Combo Diablo, the stories came freely. These humans had history. Not polished biography history. Real Kansas City music history. The kind that arrives through half-finished sentences, remembered shows, former band names, old venues, shared jokes, and somebody suddenly saying, “Wait until you hear about this.”Combo Diablo is a Kansas City trio featuring Mike Niewald on acoustic guitar and vocals, Don “Gator” Wilson on guitar, and Joe Gose on drums.
They describe what they do as soul-scorching rock ’n’ roll. That description is useful, but it does not contain the entire creature. There is Americana in it. Rockabilly. Blues. Punk. Traditional rock ’n’ roll. There are also decades of Kansas City music history moving underneath it.
Between the three musicians are connections to bands including Absolute Ceiling, the Bindlestiffs, the Saddlemen, the Grave Escape—and one band the raccoon was not expecting to uncover that evening. The guitarist handed her a treasure.
THE DOO-DADS.
THE DADS ADAPTED
Apparently, these humans have been together—in various musical configurations—for quite a while. Long enough to play in bands. Long enough to become fathers. Long enough to discover that mainstream adulthood has some very strange ideas about what responsible parents are supposed to give up.There is an old assumption that becoming a dad means placing certain parts of yourself in storage. The guitar. The stage. The band. The loud parts. These Kansas City musicians did something much more interesting. They adapted.
Instead of giving up live music when fatherhood arrived, they made music that their children could enter with them. They became the Doo-Dads.
THE DOO-DADS
The Doo-Dads formed in Kansas City in 2002. The original band brought together four musician fathers: Mike Niewald, Matt Kesler, Joe Gose, and Ken Lovern. These were not children’s entertainers attempting to imitate a rock band. They were experienced Kansas City musicians who redirected everything they already knew about live performance into music for kids and the adults trapped in the room with them. The result was kid-cool, adult-friendly rock ’n’ roll.
The songs covered matters of serious concern to small humans: Bicycles. The zoo. Brushing teeth. Potty-related business. The Doo-Dads performed in matching shirts, filled rooms with bubbles, and built shows that allowed parents to bring their children into live music without reducing the adults to hostages.
Their own children became part of the story. Known as the Doo-Drops, they sang on the records and grew up around the music their fathers had refused to abandon. The dads had not stopped being musicians. Fatherhood simply changed the set list.
THERE WILL BE ROCK
The story of Kansas City children’s rock band the Doo-Dads eventually became the documentary There Will Be Rock. Directed by Kansas City filmmaker Anthony Ladesich, the film followed the band’s unusual history as working musicians, fathers, and performers inside the world of children’s music. It also preserved something larger than a novelty band. It documented what happened when a group of musicians decided that becoming responsible adults did not require them to become entirely different humans.
WATCH THERE WILL BE ROCK ON YOUTUBE: Watch The Doo Dads Documentary Here!
There Will Be Rock premiered on Kansas City PBS in December 2020. The documentary later received a 2021 Mid-America Emmy Award in the Arts and Entertainment long-form category.
THE CHILDREN GREW UP
Eventually, the children grew up. This is a known side effect of feeding them. The Doo-Drops were no longer little. The songs about bicycles, bubbles, brushing teeth, and other urgent tiny-human affairs had served their purpose.
The musicians, however, were still musicians. The band names changed. The humans kept playing.
Now there is Combo Diablo. Not the Doo-Dads with darker clothing. Not a children’s band attempting an adult rebrand. Combo Diablo is its own creature: a Kansas City rock ’n’ roll band carrying the accumulated history of the people inside it. The Doo-Dads are one chapter. Before that were other bands, other stages, other versions of the same humans.
After decades of Kansas City music, fatherhood, children’s shows, bubbles, old venues, lost memories, recovered stories, slightly haunted guitar equipment, and at least one Grand Emporium shirt, they are still doing the thing. They are still getting onstage. They are still playing together. And judging by the suspicious number of smiles in the room, they are still having an unreasonable amount of fun.
The raccoon arrived expecting to collect photographs of Combo Diablo. She left carrying part of Kansas City music history—and a collection of her own memories that she did not realize had been missing.
All because the drummer wore a shirt. The archives are strange that way.
DOCUMENTARY EVIDENCE
View the complete Combo Diablo concert photography gallery from Soundbite Social inside Warehouse on Broadway:
https://mymidlifecrisiscreativeinc17.pixieset.com/combodiablosoundbitesocialwarehouseonbroadway/
FOLLOW COMBO DIABLO
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/share/1C4GuUDmWb/?mibextid=wwXIfr
SoundCloud:
https://on.soundcloud.com/D2pVPuxbYf6aQMrz7
SUPPORT THE HUMANS WHO MAKE THE NOISE
Follow the band. Listen to the music. Support local venues. Buy something directly from the artists whenever possible. Tell the humans when their work matters.
The room left evidence.
The raccoon collected it.
Slightly feral.
Entirely capable.
— Laverna the Rockin’ Raccoon
Written and photographed by Alethea F. Mehdipour — Slightly Feral Media
Published by My Midlife Crisis Creative Inc.
All photographs and written content are protected by copyright. Please do not download, reproduce, alter, or redistribute images without permission. Bands and performers may contact Slightly Feral Media regarding personal and promotional use with proper photographer credit.
REFERENCES AND FURTHER INVESTIGATION
Combo Diablo. Music, recordings, and band information. SoundCloud.
https://soundcloud.com/combo-diablo
Kansas City PBS. “Local Kids Rock Group Takes the Stage in New Doc.” Information about the Doo-Dads documentary There Will Be Rock, directed by Anthony Ladesich.
https://www.kansascitypbs.org/blogs/station-news/local-kids-rock-group-take-the-stage-in-new-doc/
Mid-America Chapter of the National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences. 2021 Mid-America Emmy Award recipients. There Will Be Rock is listed as the winner in the Arts and Entertainment long-form category.
https://emmymid-america.org/files/2022/04/2021-WINNING-ENTRIES.pdf
The Pitch. “The Doo-Dads Bring Garageland to Kidsville.” Background on the Kansas City children’s rock band, its members, performances, and music.
https://www.thepitchkc.com/the-doodads-bring-garageland-to-kidsville/
University of Missouri–Kansas City Libraries. Grand Emporium Collection. Historical photographs, flyers, promotional materials, and information documenting the Kansas City venue.
https://library.umkc.edu/grand-emporium-collection-added-to-umkc-digital-special-collections/
The Pitch. “Requiem for a Room.” History and remembrance of Kansas City’s Grand Emporium.
https://www.thepitchkc.com/requiem-for-a-room/
The Clio. Grand Emporium historical entry. Background on the venue, its ownership, performers, and place in Kansas City music history.
https://theclio.com/entry/191261
KCUR 89.3. “Music Review: The Bindlestiffs’ Long-Lost Tracks.” Additional Kansas City music history connected to Mike Niewald.
https://www.kcur.org/arts-life/2015-12-08/music-review-the-bindlestiffs-long-lost-tracks
Marmoset Music. Absolute Ceiling artist history. Additional background on the Kansas City band and its members.
https://www.marmosetmusic.com/browse/33754-death-and-fear-of-dying-young
Some details in this field note—including the Grand Emporium memories, conversations with Combo Diablo, the remarkably cheerful audience, and the suspicious pedalboard devices—come from the raccoon’s direct observations and personal archives.




















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