Austin Combs

I’m not too sure how this goes, whether my wife volunteered my services or whether Angie, our neighbor and good friend, mentioned it. It doesn’t matter; the details that night aren’t as important as the tribute to a talented musician. What I do know is Angie brought over a VHS tape of her father, who had passed away unexpectedly, and she needed it digitized for his funeral.

I’d done this type of work before, scanned photos of my father-in-law at various stages of his life, spliced in some family video footage, and added piano music. It helped with those awkward moments at the funeral home where everyone tries to engage in conversation without coming off as—how do I put it?—unsympathetic. The project before me that night was relatively easy: download several songs by A.C. and the Kentucky Fox Band; create a menu with chapters, and render and burn a DVD.

I didn’t attend Austin Combs’s funeral. Yet, I’ve come to know him as a free-spirit who lives on in the memories of his family, especially his grandchildren. From what I’ve heard, they’ve become particularly fond of his song, “Damn, the TV’s GONE,” an autobiographical account about a man’s propensity to smash television sets when he comes home, however, on this particular night, as the grandchildren might say, Grandma hid it from him.

I hope you enjoy it, and if you have time, check out the other songs.