"I was waiting on a moment.."
I woke up at 8am this morning and there was no cereal. That, my friends, is a grim way to start the day.
First up, 9:30am interview with John Linnell of They Might Be Giants. I'm running out of cassettes. I recorded over two that I'd typed up already. I used to say that I was going to keep them all, but I hate listening to my own voice and I can't see ever wanting to listen to them for pleasure again. With the notable exception of the one with Carrie Brownstein, which I've already had sealed in a humidity controlled air-tight display case. With laser wire and guard dogs.
Anyway, that interview was very nice. He is, as you can imagine from their music, a very pleasant and interesting person. I remember listening to them being interviewed on NPR, and so it was strange to find myself speaking with that same voice that I'd heard on the radio. We talked for almost the duration of the 45 minutes of the first side of the tape.
Next up, Michael Ivins of the Flaming Lips at 11am. Except I overlook the fact that it's supposed to be 11am EASTERN, which means I'm an hour late. Panicky, I call him and get his voicemail. A few minutes later the publicist from Warner Brothers calls me. I get a lump in my throat, expecting to be chewed out, but instead he's apologizing to me because apparently Michael had been having phone problems and wouldn't've been available even if I had called him at the correct time. We reschedule for a few hours later.
About 12:15 I call him and we talk for again, about 40-45 minutes. Very nice, humble guy, making it a point to say that he did not consider himself among the great bands to whose career trajectory's he was comparing his own. I was surprised at how, well, normal he was! If you listen to the Lips' music you'd expect them to be total space cadets, but if you think about it -- it makes sense. It takes a sharp, focused mind to come up with such perfect music.
And on top of all that, it's payday.
If I had more days like this one, I wouldn't have much to complain about.
I woke up at 8am this morning and there was no cereal. That, my friends, is a grim way to start the day.
First up, 9:30am interview with John Linnell of They Might Be Giants. I'm running out of cassettes. I recorded over two that I'd typed up already. I used to say that I was going to keep them all, but I hate listening to my own voice and I can't see ever wanting to listen to them for pleasure again. With the notable exception of the one with Carrie Brownstein, which I've already had sealed in a humidity controlled air-tight display case. With laser wire and guard dogs.
Anyway, that interview was very nice. He is, as you can imagine from their music, a very pleasant and interesting person. I remember listening to them being interviewed on NPR, and so it was strange to find myself speaking with that same voice that I'd heard on the radio. We talked for almost the duration of the 45 minutes of the first side of the tape.
Next up, Michael Ivins of the Flaming Lips at 11am. Except I overlook the fact that it's supposed to be 11am EASTERN, which means I'm an hour late. Panicky, I call him and get his voicemail. A few minutes later the publicist from Warner Brothers calls me. I get a lump in my throat, expecting to be chewed out, but instead he's apologizing to me because apparently Michael had been having phone problems and wouldn't've been available even if I had called him at the correct time. We reschedule for a few hours later.
About 12:15 I call him and we talk for again, about 40-45 minutes. Very nice, humble guy, making it a point to say that he did not consider himself among the great bands to whose career trajectory's he was comparing his own. I was surprised at how, well, normal he was! If you listen to the Lips' music you'd expect them to be total space cadets, but if you think about it -- it makes sense. It takes a sharp, focused mind to come up with such perfect music.
And on top of all that, it's payday.
If I had more days like this one, I wouldn't have much to complain about.
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B-)