by Kim Mellen
He is a former Mr. USA first runner-up. He has played music with Gordon Lightfoot. If the Seventies television show "Real People" were on today, his integrity, altruism, and eccentric nature would make Sara Purcell's lower lip tremble with pride.
The Cowboy from Vienna
photograph by Bruce DyeWerner Zotter, like Arnold "Hee-ah's my inveetayshan!" Schwarzenegger, is a man of broad musculature with an Austrian birth certificate. More accurately, though, he's a morph of the Big A and Lawrence Welk. Just imagine, if you can, Arnold with an accordion and a regular gig at a theatre in Branson, Missouri, the Other Live Music Capital of the World.
Werner is the host of ACAC's The Cowboy From Vienna show (Ch 10, Sundays 6:30-7:00pm). The show, in typical public access fashion, is a bare-bones operation; Werner and company film and edit each show in a four-hour time slot. Refined it's not, but its raw charm is a decided and refreshing change from the fancy editing and pretense of commercial TV. And did we mention the lip-synching?
On a typical show, Werner, dressed in full cowboy regalia, will monologue profoundly in an accent that proudly touts his Austrian heritage, then pick up his accordion or hover over his keyboard, scarcely caressing the keys as he lip-synchs to his own Texas/Austria-inspired songs. His indefatigable smile and wide-open eyes that never gaze directly into the camera give him the air of a bedazzled yet delighted deer caught in headlights. His wife Sara -- his Viennese Cowgirl -- produces and often makes an appearance on the show to join him in song and perhaps dance a waltz during the bridge.
His musical repetoire features waltzes, polkas, tangos, ballads, and yodels fused with old-time country music. The latter captivated him with its "tremendous melody and good stories. Some stories were pretty sad but the melodies were all so beautiful, to compensate, you know," he says.
Like so many others, he was attracted to Austin for the musical opportunites. His Austrian heritage and musical style might make him the poster child for the Hill Country's Texas-German communities, but Werner is anything but a joiner. "I'm a very poor hanger-outer," he blushingly admits. "But I am making contact with people who have a tremendous German background. But my home is America, and in America we all come from all over. I love the Hispanic music and culture, and the good old Americans, and all the Europeans who still have trouble speaking English. I hope my music finds some place with all of them."
The idea to merge the Austrian music with which he grew up and the music he was hearing in the states was rather epiphanic, he says. "It all started with my girl, Lanella -- she was about four years old at the time -- she was turning and dancing in our bedroom, and the melody came to me that she was dancing to. I said, `I'm going to write that down.' That's the first time I had written something down because I had just seen it. It was a blend of American country flavoring and all the charm of Europe combined. So that was my first recording. We called that song `Montana, I Hear You Calling.'"
Werner and Sara Zotter have lived in Austin for three years; they have blessed the populace with The Cowboy from Vienna for the past two. He left Austria in the Fifties and has since taken up residence in Canada, Colorado, Montana, and California.
His first entry into the U.S. was Vail, Colorado, as a competitive skier by day, ski-lodge entertainer by night. "One day, they said, `Why don't you take the accordion and ski down the hill with it? Actually ski down the hills while playing the accordion -- no poles!'" So he did. Someone saw this performance, which led to his touring with an indoor ski team, playing accordion while skiing on those indoor ski contraptions. "So the accordion has opened up a lot of territory for me. It's a good friend...." Not to mention a sure-fire attention grabber.
Once, Werner was in transit to Canada for a wedding with two accordions in tow. "I didn't want to ship them on the plane because they're fragile; so I strapped them on and I wore them to my seat on the airplanes, making two changes.... Sara was with me, walking through the airports, [the accordions] strapped on, one in the front, one in the back. I got a lot of looks. They didn't have to show the movies on those flights!"
In the vein of dog owners eerily resembling their pooches, Werner is the spirit incarnate of his main instrument and loyal friend. Since accordions often inspire... errr, extreme feelings in people, many will dismiss or outright dislike his work. Werner has definitely made his peace with that.
Werner has a very specific message for a very specific target audience. "Basically, the audience I am trying to reach is an audience I believe has either intentionally or unintentionally been forsaken," he says. "It's a very sad thing to have to touch on, but I feel that there are some people who are in their seventies and eighties, who knew of a music very similar to what I am able to do." A glance at the guestbook on his website (http://www.wernerzotter.com) shows the touching depth of one fan's adoration. "Your music is a joyful sound and it fills my heart with love," writes Dora Aldana of Chihuahua, Mexico. "It is truly the gift of harmony -- the best around!"
"It's almost like a renaissance," Werner continues, "a reincarnation of a music that existed in the late Forties and Fifties; although it's original. Came the Sixties, Seventies, and Eighties, there was a deviation from a principle of music that had been accepted for centuries. It became so popular, and that age group found it difficult to be entertained by, and for their souls to be put to ease with, the vibration and the intense volume of the music.
"I have my own opinions about [modern music and rock & roll], I have many friends who play that and I have no problem with the people. But I found that taking my mother to a show with heavy metal rock was not only insulting to her soul, but it did absolutely nothing for our relationship on a cordial basis," Zotter sadly recalls. "It was actually, sorry to say, an irritant rather than a pleasant evening out, and it still cost money. To pay to have someone to degrade your soul to that extent made me very critical. Then somebody said, `Werner, if you're that critical, you've got to do something about it. You can't be just critical. If you've been given the talent, why not come along with a Band-Aid for that type of person who wants to hear that kind of music?'
"So we are providing an alternative, and in the process, a strong identity with that. Always quote me on my love for my fellow man, because that's what I have for them, ja? But I don't condone the decibels of the volume, or the beat, or the words.... If you study the words, they are really not in line with sound principles. And therefore, I tip my hat to them and say, you must live your life the way you do it, I must live my life the way I live it. Those people who love our music are magnetized to harmony, melody, some fun words, and perhaps a storyline.
"And basically, that's all it is. It's based on a principle that I have to live by. When I record a song, I don't only hear the song, I know where I was at, at that moment. If I deviated from that principle... I couldn't live with it. The song would mean nothing to me, and life would be meaningless, if I deviated from that."
Part of this principle, and the title of the most recent of his seven albums, is Always Harmony. And this theme means everything to Zotter: "Harmony brings it down from what we call long-haired, high-falutin' music -- harmony brings it down to earth. It's beautiful. We strive for harmony and freedom. Music is a teacher; it says you can't sing something you're not. You have to become what you sing. If you want to sing harmony, you have to have harmony in yourself."
Even his days as a bodybuilder and personal trainer were fueled by this philosopy. "Keeping your body healthy has a lot of rhythm and music to it. I tried to introduce that into an approach to bodybuilding; I prefer the natural flow, the aesthetics of the early days of Grecian statues where being healthy meant more than being big like a Mr. Michelin."
And besides, he says, "To play accordion, you have to be strong! I stand to play, and although I use a small one on the show, I used to use concert-size accordions, which weigh up to 50 pounds. You have to go lift at the gym to do that."
You definitely won't find Werner jumping on the lounge revival bandwagon to attract the attention of those kitsch-hungry twentysomethings. "Had I not done that for so many years, I would most likely be tempted to try it. But I did lounge work in my 20s. I did Las Vegas; I did Hollywood." But this type of lifestyle did not fit with Zotter's philosophy. "I felt very much alone even amongst thousands of people."
His live performances today are reserved for smaller audiences who genuinely appreciate him for his work. "People who watch our show ask me to play at their reunion, their housewarming, their get-together. I can no longer play nightclubs, it's not me. My music does take me into retirement communities with entertainment centers. I don't play based on economics."
Werner also offers a personalized songwriting service. Projects so far have ranged from the obscure -- music for a Norwegian documentary on ocean craft -- to the more traditional presents for weddings and birthdays. "It's a highly personalized service. I will write for all occasions. I love the challenge." Composing, singing, and performing is his main occupation these days.
His current ambition is to go national with his television show. "We want to make people happy. We want to make the little lady by the name of Margaret or Madeline up in Wisconsin as happy as Claudette down in Florida or John and Richard and their families all over the U.S. and the world. We want to make you happy, because it makes us happy. If Myrtle and Jim can't make it to a club -- if it's too much of a problem for them to drive, or they just want to be home in their slippers and housecoats -- I want to come to them on television," he says. "I want to meet Myrtle and Jim in every state, in every county, if I can, on television," Zotter asserts, then adds, "I don't want to drive anyplace and get a parking ticket."
And how does he plan to take over the United States? "In America you have the expression `I'm waiting for my ship to come in.' My ship hasn't come in yet. I have a philosophy that you have to send a ship out first before it can come back. I am sending my ship out now... I am sending out a big, big sailboat and it's going to come back in. All sails are set."
We hereby bestow upon Werner Zotter, the Cowboy From Vienna, the Best of Austin title of Best and Most Heartfelt Use of Public Access Television. May the wind blow gently in those sails, and glide that ship firmly and magestically back into dock.
Werner Zotter's show The Cowboy from Vienna airs Sunday nights, 6:30-7pm on ACAC cable channel 10.