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Townsman Al came across a couple of posts on musician Robbie Fulks‘ website that got him thinking…and got him thinking it was time to call on his fellow Townspeople to help him work through some feelings. He asked that I post some excerpts from Fulks’ posts and open the floor for discussion. Take it away, Al!
I came across the following two posts by Robbie Fulks on his website. It’s Robbie ruminating on the relationship between artist and fan, and it struck me in several ways. Most obviously, and despite my best efforts, I saw myself in several of Fulks’ scathing anecdotes. And, unsurprisingly, I was insulted.
Here’s an excerpt from his first post, entitled dumb things to say to singers:
It doesn’t seem too much, though, to expect some manners and social common sense, even from emotional people who have just been roiled by divine vibrations. My mom could hardly believe it when, one of the first times she helped me sell records at a show in Kentucky, a guy recited the last ten years of his personal story. He started in his adolescence and ended in graduate school, mentioning along the way his places of residence, college major and minor, romantic attachments, and shifting musical tastes. It took just over five minutes, and it seemed to be the price, imposed on me by him, of ongoing show attendance and CD purchases. “Why did that asshole think any of that was interesting to anyone?” said Mom, heated by outrage to a profane boil. I answered her honestly, “Some people think they know you very well, so it ‘s only equitable that you know them.”
The other week, a friendly, bright fellow who comes to see me play a lot bumped into me and right away started getting carried off by somber reflections on the course my career had taken over the last 15 years. “It’s always great to see you play,” he said, “but sometimes I feel bad about your audience. You’ve been at it so many years, you put out all this different music. And sometimes people like it, and your shows are packed. And then there are these other periods, when…” In his pause you could almost hear the ellipsis bumping brokenly off — Dot! Dot! Dot! “You are making me depressed,” I told him. I know he was trying to share some simple fellow feeling for what he took to be my Job-like woes, but it’s of no use to me hearing about problems that I’m in no particular position to affect, such as the starving infants of Africa or the turnout at my shows. I actually thought for a second of punching him.
One reason this comment gets on my nerves is that I’ve made it to others. I’m not sure why, but one has a need to acknowledge the unjust obscurity of others. One time I was doing a show with Marti Jones at the Bottom Line in New York. Boy, I wince just thinking about this. Excited to meet her, I pulled her into a private room backstage and just unloaded. “Your records are so good!” I gushed. “And not only good, but perfectly designed in style and production finesse to make you a worldwide superstar! Why didn’t this happen? It bothers me!” She was polite but didn’t fabricate a specific answer to my question. What in the world was I thinking?
Another time I heard the Dixie Chicks singing Darrell Scott’s song “Long Time Gone” on the radio. It sounded so very nice, and so very much like the New Grass Revival, that I immediately called New Grass’s bassist and lead singer, John Cowan, just called him right there from the car in the middle of Pennsylvania. “John!” I breathed. “The Dixie Chicks just sang this song, and it’s a hit for them, and it sounds exactly like you guys used to sound!” “Yes,” he said. “Well?” I retorted. “How does it strike you when someone takes a sound and style that you invented and struggled to achieve commercial recognition with, and sells millions of records with it, twenty years later?” A short silence ensued. “I guess I don’t feel that great about it,” he said at last, beaten. What in the world was I thinking? [More…]
There’s a lot more in this post that I’m sure many of you will identify with, from whatever perspective you’ve had in this artist-fan dynamic. The weekend’s upon us; I encourage you to take some time in the coming days to read his post in whole. For now, if you’re itching to discuss, Fulks eventually comes to this conclusion:
But let’s not wallow in the bilious and toxic tidepools of negativity. Let’s turn the question around. What is permissible to say to a singer after a show? Almost nothing, it turns out. I observed this after my friend Amy, a crazy-talented actress, said to me after watching me play in Brooklyn one night, “What was the name of that one song you did?”
“Amy!” I said, aghast. “You should know better than that — you’re a professional! That’s universal code for ‘I only liked one song’!”
“No, it isn’t,” she insisted. “I just liked that song so much, and I wanted to know the title — you gave it so much energy!”
“Amy!” Now I was close to tears. Evidently I lack the fortitude of Marti Jones and John Cowan (who has changed phone numbers since the year of the above anecdote and has, curiously, failed to give me his new one). Two velvet jabs and down I go, like Sonny Liston succumbing to Chuck Wepner. Like most singers, I am delicate to a fault. No compliment you can give me is so straightforward that I can’t give it some awful twist.
Almost no compliment. Last month, a musician approached me after a show in the north of Sweden. His face was grave and his words were soft. “That was nearly a religious experience,” he said. These words, nota bene, I can graciously accept.”
A couple of weeks later, Fulks was back with a follow-up post, dumb things to say to singers, revisited. In it he diagrams the “nearly impermeable boundary between performer and spectator.”
I — no Garbo or Dylan — am going to keep being very nice and polite to everyone, or at least to everyone who is polite to me. But that’s only because that’s who I am, for better or worse. I do think Greta Garbo was right, and I do think there’s a nearly impermeable boundary between performer and spectator. This is why I don’t relish meeting, often go out of my way not to meet, artists I revere — what’s to say? [More…]
What do you fans say? What do you musicians say? Are you on Robbie’s side? Or the fans? What does an artist owe a fan? What does a fan owe an artist?
After seeing Fulks at a house concert a few months back, I mentioned to Al that I thought the song in the clip was the unvarnished truth, his real feelings expressed in song. Fulks is so clever and so social that it masks the fact that he really is a professional, and putting on a show is work for him, in no way natural. In the house concert context it really showed. Robbie Gjersoe, who accompanied on guitar, was out in the driveway greeting the attendees with a can of beer in his hand, while Fulks sat on a stool with his head down in the living room, doing guitar exercises. After the show, Fulks graciously chats with everyone lined up to buy merchandise, but you get the sense that this is part of the show, an expectation that he knows must be fulfilled rather than something he genuinely takes pleasure in. Reading Fulks’ blog has convinced me that he does these things because he genuinely appreciates music and good musicians, and his on and off stagecraft gives him the opportunity to work with great musicians and to work to be one himself. Yeah, some of his comments stung, but I don’t think he was out of line, just honest.
I can’t argue with anything Fulks says. All logical, all makes sense. And yet…
I’ve seen Fulks any number of times and his demeanor clearly demonstrates he believes what his says here. I’ve seen him in shithole places in front of 20 people and wondered “Why the hell do you do this?” And reading his musings I REALLY have to ask that question.
Do your shredding in your basement. Write your songs and toss them. Fulks tried to make it in Nashville as a songwriter to no success (the result of which is a great song called “Fuck This Town”). Too bad, that would have been the solution for him.
I’ve heard it attributed to George Bernard Shaw and Winston Churchill among others but I’m reminded of the story that ends “Madam, we’ve already established that; we’re just haggling over the price”. I thought of that reading Fulks. You schlep around the country playing these shithole places, you put out and promote CDs, you’ll even stand at the merch table and sign them, enduring the fans, to sell them.
Aren’t there easier ways to make a better living?
What does he get out of this?
More later…
Al, there are about 20 different paths to take to comment on this. Just because it’s easy, I’m going to start with the most juvenile: Can we get Robbie’s Mom to join RTH? I love that she calls the fan an asshole to her son. That’s My Mama!
chickenfrank, I hope you proceed with the other nineteen but I love your first one. That was my thought about that too. As my mother used to say – usually in Italian copying her mom – “the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree”.
On those rare occasions when I have the opportunity to hob-nob with performers off-stage, I have a fairly strict policy of saying nothing unless there’s something particularly topical I can share with them; something that I already know from stage banter or rock intel will be of interest. I keep my introductory comment brief, and see if they follow up. I’ve shared a few sentences with Mike Watt this way, and, alongside mockcarr, actually enjoyed a 10-minute conversation with bass player/singer dude from Sloan. Can’t remember what my opening lines were in either case.
everything i’ve ever said to a famous musician has been stupid and worthless.
i run off stage after my shows and smoke a cigarrette to avoid the immediate post set interactions.
after a few minutes, i can deal with compliments and behave like a human being.
I hadn’t ever thought about this issue in such detail before, but long ago I realized that the best thing to say to an artist after they perform (at least for an artist that you don’t know personally) is simply “great set” and then just move along. They don’t know you. Any further interaction is fraught with complication because the relationship is so one-sided. (Though I don’t think I could resist talking Bob Dylan’s ear off if I ever run into him wandering around my town in the rain.)
I only saw Fulks once. It was in a dark little bar over a bowling alley about 15 years ago. He put on a hell of a set despite the small crowd. He is an excellent guitar player and funny songwriter. Obviously a very talented and bright guy–and a knowledgeable music fan (which you don’t see with all artists). I didn’t try to talk to him afterward.
The only time I saw Robbie Fuchs live was opening for Ben Folds Five at the peak of their popularity, the “Brick” era. The audience of college kids didn’t really appreciate a country singer. I felt bad for him.
I do worry about coming off like a stalker when going to see my favorite under-appreciated artists, like Wussy. I’ve had several interactions with Joe Pernice, phone interviews and in-person “hey how’s it going”s. I always feel a little awkward talking with him at shows. He’s a very nice man, but I’m always convinced I’ve embarrassed myself.
Anyway, I try to keep my conversation to “That was a great show.” I don’t think I’ve ever pulled the “Why aren’t you more famous?” card, because what artist would know the answer to that?
I talked to Jenny Lewis once at the North Star, when she was touring with the Postal Service and told her then-most-recent Rilo Kiley show in Philly was one the best shows I ever saw. (It was and is.) As far as I remember, that brief conversation actually went okay. Of course, she was a burgeoning indie rocker at that point, not playing to 10 people in a dive.
Slightly related to this topic, one of the only things that keeps me writing about music occasionally for a local alt-weekly is the idea that “If I write about this, maybe one or two more people will check the artist out, and maybe maybe that will help prevent the artist from getting dropped by the label/not touring Philly anymore/giving up entirely.
So anyway, it’s better to be one of five people in the crowd at a show, a maybe awkward situation, than to not be there at all.
I think there is an etiquette that too few musicians follow when they get a compliment. All compliments are good and should be acknowledged as such. When someone gives the standard “great set” compliment, and the person responds, “Cmon, We sucked!” then you’ve ignored a nice gesture, and also insulted the fan’s intelligence by implying they can’t tell the difference.
That’s a real Diva move and too self-centered. The person should always be gracious in getting a compliment. It’s helpful to have a healthy critique session with a close circle to know what was good/bad, but don’t be superior about it when you get props.
Robbie’s response on being asked about his one song was a (self-acknowledged) dick move. That’s being hyper-critical to someone else’s critique. Don’t worry, be happy.
Years ago I saw some band with Amy Rigby and another woman of some note (blanking on her name), neither of whom I knew much about at the time. Former dB’s drummer Will Rigby was in her band. After the show my friend Jay offered to introduce me to Rigby, who he’d known from the early dB’s days. Although I’d broken bread with some relatively well-known musicians by this point, I was really nervous about meeting Rigby, because those first two dB’s’ records meant so much to me. I told Jay I’d rather not meet him, that it felt weird wanting to meet him when he had just finished playing a show to a nearly empty club. Jay said something I’ll never forget: “If you were in his shoes, wouldn’t you rather know that at least one person in the audience cared about what you’d done as a musician over the years?” Jay then introduced me to Rigby, and I told him something simple, like “Your music’s meant a lot to me over the years.” Whenever I meet a musician for whom that statement is true I try to lead with that and don’t expect much more. If it were socially OK to do I’d also give these people a hug – no strings attached.
When I conduct my rare RTH interviews I’ll allow myself to share a fanboy moment or two. If the artist hasn’t been making music all these years to connect on some human level, it’s not my problem. The music’s connected with me and what you give is what you get and all that jazz.
Avoiding these encounters is usually no problem for me since I’m introverted, but yeah, I’ve embarrassed myself. I had a too-loud discussion with Mike Watt about why he settled on the little Gibson bass instead of a Mustang when he was downsizing, as he struck me as a Fender guy. I felt like a dick because he had to admit to small hands, which amazed me even more given how he plays, and after all it’s pretty personal as to why you choose an instrument, and what the hell do I know about it?
I went to some in-store thing Jason Falkner performed, and said a few words to him and then just stood there leaning against the wall next to him for ten minutes saying nothing, as I had nothing more to say, except for one thing I couldn’t remember. I had meant to thank him for indirectly turning me on to Oddessy and Oracle through word of print, but did not do so.
I made a few dick comments that time at a Sloan show Hrrundi was talking about, but Chris Murphy responded that HE was supposed to be the dick. Pretty funny. I think I asked what was the worst Sloan album. He seemed to be a good spokesman for the band, but all four of those guys write and sing, so there’s not a “front man” per se.
For me, it’s really just a matter to say, “Thanks.” I think that is the highest (and least offensive/questionable) comment a fan can make on an artists’ music/show. It cannot be miscontrued nor taken apart. It lets the artist know that you enjoy what he/she does and that it means something to you to see/hear them. I wouldn;t go out of my way to throw myself into the path of these people, but given the opportunity, I would just shake their hands and say, “Thank you.” If the conversation goes anywhere from there, so be it.
TB
I think how high profile the person is would factor into how receptive they would be to a fan’s comments. Does Keith Richards really need someone else telling him how much they love his music? On the other hand, if I were trying to make it happen, it would be nice to hear that someone was into what I was doing.
I seldom approach people, especially my heroes, because I get all tongue-tied. I passed on the opportunity to speak with both Tom Waits and Paul Westerberg because there’s no way I could have come up with anything that would not have been embarassingly fawning. And the Westerberg opportunity was at an in-store meet and greet so he was there for the specific purpose of talking to us fanboys.
As for being on the receiving end of a compliment, I’m horrible at taking compliments but I’m trying to work on it. The problem is that the audience is having a different experience than the band and to the extent they even hear a clam, it’s usually just a blip in time, whereas, if I am the one who makes the clam, it feels like an indelible mistake.
That reminds me of a kinda funny story.
Around 2002, Elvis Costello did an in-store in Philly at the Tower Records at Broad and Chestnut. I stood in the line for autographs; the process was quick and incredibly impersonal. He signs the CD booklet, shakes your hand and that’s it. Incidentally, he wore a Russian Cossack, proving to all and sundry that he was well into the “god-awful fashion sense” phase of his career that I just can’t stop giving him shit about.
Anyway, a few weeks later Westerberg is at the same Tower Records. I stayed for the performance (way better than E.C.’s) but begged off the autograph portion. Then I found out later that Paul basically talked with everyone who came up to him as extensively as he could without letting the event stretch until 4 am.
I posted this before on RTH v1 but it fits in here:
Back in 1998 when Brian was promoting Imagination, he did a signing
session at Borders (or was it Barnes & Noble?) in downtown Chicago. I
took my daughters, then aged 10 and 7, and my 18 month old son to meet
Brian.
My daughters had been listening to and loving the Imagination album and
were excited to meet Brian. We drove 2 hours into Chicago (we lived 35
miles northwest of the city but 2 hours wasn’t unusual for that trip),
then waited 45 minutes in line. My daughters, in anticipation of
meeting Brian, had drawn a poster for him. It contained little pictures
depicting each song. When it was our turn, they presented their
original poster to Brian, while I explained what it was. Brian, sadly,
didn’t acknowledge the poster or my daughters or son or me at all. He
kept his head down, scrawled his name on the copy I had had made and
that was it. On the way home, my 7 year old, bless her heart, said that
the whole thing was kind of disappointing but still she was glad that we
went and she had the chance to “meet” Brian.
Insult to injury, his Gettin’ In Over My Head album (a train wreck if there ever was one)
has a cover with little pictures depicting each song. Maybe I’ll sue
him which would make me much like his ex-bandmates!
What’s the most-satisfying artist interraction you’ve had? I’m trying to think if any of my pre- or post-gig meetings with artists (interviews not included) I didn’t know personally brought any real satisfaction beside the time, very early in our band’s development, that we opened for the Circle Jerks and bassist Zander “Snake” Schloss let us share in the band’s crock pot of roast beef. He and the other guys who came in and out of the dressing room were overall good eggs and funny people. Schloss even tolerated a couple of us lauding him for his work in Alex Cox’s vastly underrated Straight to Hell. Later that night, after the show, for some reason our other guitarist got it in his mind that the Circle Jerks stole his Les Paul. All the good vibes we’d built up evaporated as we made the booking guy search their van. Man, we were dicks! Turns out Andyr accidentally loaded the guitar in his car, which was headed back to DC.
I mentioned this earlier on here but the most satisfying was opening for Magic Christian last year. Clem Burke was really nice and low key, and Cyril Jordan was entertaining (telling tales from his 40 years in the biz) and impossibly nice (insisting that I try out his Dan Armstrong guitar when I asked about it).
I think Fulks always thinks he’s the smartest person in the room. Which is probably often true. But if you take that too far, it really cuts down your chances to experience something new or learn something you didn’t know before. And it really takes the fun out of life.
I understand that he thinks he’s being somewhat modest by honestly telling us how he really feels about performing in front of an audience, yet that doesn’t disguise his arrogance. In a way, he’s trying to win our sympathy as sort of a trick, to see if he can con us once again. He exudes this “you’ll never get close to me” burnt-out coolness. He’s sort of exhibit A for what the music business can do to a talented artist.
Two fan-boy moments I’ve had that elicited a seemingly genuine moment of connection/appreciation for my existence:
– I told Ray Davies: “I’m a songwriter, and you’re the closest thing to a hero I’ve got.” He stood up from his autograph table, took off his sunglasses, shook my hand, thanked me with what seemed like genuine enthusiasm, then we shared an awkward moment of silence together, whereupon I moved on.
– I went up to Chris Stamey after a solo gig at SxSW, shook his hand and told him he was “a national treasure.” He seemed to appreciate the sincerity — and maybe the weird choice of words.
CDM and Oats: I was at that PW signing at Tower Records and can confirm that Paul was pretty nice about it. For my part I kept it to “thanks, I’ve dug your stuff for long time” but the woman behind me was a fanzine editor from DE and showed Paul some pix and interviews from 82 or 83, which he enjoyed and his manager took her # in case they wanted to use the pix for re-releases (I haven’t bought the TwinTone re-releases so I don’t know).
For others, maybe it is just the individual person on the particular day. Greg Lake was really gracious after I won a radio contest to go backstage for ELP (Emerson wanted nothing to do with it and Palmer stayed with a group he already knew). I’ve had variable experiences with smaller-level musicians as well.
Townsman mickavory and I went to a solo Roger McGuinn show with a ticket upgrade for an after-show meet-and-greet. This was for the benefit of Ocshcner’s Hospital in New Orleans, so it was a worthy cause. Anyway, we had our records in tow as well as the cameras. McGuinn was very gracious and laid back and seemed to enjoy the one-n-one encounters in the relaxed atmosphere. I think I was too nervous to say much other than how much I enjoyed the album he was signing for me (Ballad of Easy Rider). For fear of sounding like a complete moron, I quickly made was for other people after he graciously posed for a few pics. Looking at the pictures from the event, we look like we’re sharing a GREAT conversation, but I don’t remember it as such. Mickavory stepped right in and had a GREAT conversation with him as he brought along a mono copy Younger Than Yesterday. I’ll let him share that story…
We also had a pretty good experience stalking Elvis Costello in the old Virgin Megastore in N.O. He was probably nicer than he needed to be, but I made sure not to overstay my welcome and move along.
Al, I hate that you and daughters had such a bad experience with Brian. Of course, I wish I could say that I’ve had the opportunity. Of course, with him, you never know how medicated he is. I know that he’s really shy, which may explain some of his behavior.
I think I’ve shared my Alex Chilton story. He was very cool to me and I regret that I didn’t talk to him any longer, but hindsight is 20/20.
The one (and only) time that They Might Be Giants played in my hometown, they played in a restaurant/bar. While waiting to go in, I spied the two Johns having dinner. I brought along my copy of Flood in the chance that I did get to meet them. I didn’t bother them during their dinner because, you know, boundaries. After the show, I caught Linnell and spoke with him. He curtly replied that he was “off duty.” I resepct that, but on the other hand, it wasn’t like there was a screaming mob and to accomodate me would mean that he would have to accomadate thousands of others. My opinion of them hasn’t lessened, but it did leave a sour taste in my mouth.
I can honestly say that most of the famous folk I have met have been very friendly. Maybe I’m just lucky that way.
TB
Latelydavid, this doesn’t necessarily excuse Linnell, but from what I’ve heard he’s a pretty skittish person, uncomfortable in social situations. Flansberg, on the other hand, is Mr. Social and comes out after virtually every TMBG show to shake hands, sign things etc. The documentary about them, Gigantic, portrays it like a division of labor: Linnell concentrates a little more on writing and arranging; Flans takes care of the fanbase. Too bad you didn’t get to run into him, I guess.
CDM is right that mega-stars are in a different category. Most of the people we’re ever going to meet are in the category that are only one successful/unsuccessful album away from selling out 3-5,000 seat venues to washing dishes. If they respond to that fact by becoming bitter or instead by appreciating their fan-boys even more goes a long way in explaining our interactions with them.
I had a very normal satisfying conversation with DJ Bonebreak from X. I had a nice hello with Bonnie Raitt, but that was also one of those forced ticket upgade conversation deals too.
AndyR is a grade A asshole to his fans.
Has anyone been watching the new HBO series Treme? One of the things they’re trying to do is integrate actual musicians into the story. In I think it was the first episode Elvis Costello is featured, and there’s a scene where he’s trying to listen to Kermit Ruffins in a bar, and the annoying character named Davis (Steve Zahn) keeps circling around him, eventually striking up a ‘casual’ conversation. I have very mixed feelings about the series in general, but this scene seemed like a pretty good portrayal of what life would be like for a recognizable musician in the public eye.
You raise a good point about Andyr, chickenfrank. For those of us who are musicians of any stripe, have you had any experiences, lessons, or regrets you’d like to share regarding the artist-audience interraction from the perspective of the artist? For the sake of honesty – and to avoid faux humility – let’s accept the probability that those of you who have ever played in a band has at one time had a stranger come up to you after a show, approaching you as the artist, with some comments.
In the 1920s, we had a loyal local following, I’m not ashamed to admit there were some regulars I worked hard to avoid. I usually tried to enjoy the banter and remember the slightest compliments verbatim, but there were times when I brushed off a compliment, telling the well-wisher something like, “Thanks, but we actually sucked tonight.” Chronic fans who, immediately post-gig, wanted to sell me on some half-baked concept they had convinced themselves they could organize, were to be avoided at all costs. I’m sure some of these types hit up every band, big and small. Shoot, I fear I’ve been that loon now and then.
I’ve seen Gigantic and I can see that Flans is the “fan-friendly” of the two Johns. Some friends of mine thought I was lucky just be dissed, which is closer than they’ve ever been. It’s all a matter of perspective.
I’ve only seen the pilot of Treme and I know the scene you’re talking about. E.C. has a thing for NOLA. He played Jazz Fest last night (Mickavory was there, I wasn’t.) I’ll be making my Jazz Fest appearance this weekend for Pearl Jam and Van Morrison. Hopefully, Van will turn to the band randomly sing/say “Blah blah blah” into the microphone al la his Letterman Sinead/Cheiftains performance. Classic stuff. This one’s for you, Mod:
zatos.multiply.com/…/-_Van_Morrison_Sinead_OConnor_-_Have_I_Told_You_Lately.flv
TB
That was an unfair cheap shot. AndyR is gracious when they’re holding.
But I here he’s a notorious Bogart!
When my dad was in college, Louis Armstrong and his band played one of the school dances. My dad was (and still is) a big Armstrong fan and had brought some Armstrong records in case he got the chance to meet him. During an intermission, he wanders down to the dressing room, walks in (no security in 1953), and asks for Mr. Armstrong. One of the guys in the band nods to a back room and says “He’s in there.” My dad goes in, and there’s Armstrong sitting, towel around his neck, drinking whiskey. So my dad says “Mr. Armstrong, it’s really great to meet you. I have all your records!” And Armstrong looks him up and down and says, “So do I kid, so do I.”
I now have the program from that dance and the album he signed for my father…
I met Chuck Berry. That was cool. Didn’t have much to say to him, but I was in awe. I was only 18 years old but I was very much in touch with the roots of rock. (Buddy Holly was my God.) Chuck played a show at some theatre in the suburbs. My buddy and I saw a Caddy parked out back and figured it must be his. Sure enough, about a half hour after the show he walked out with just his guitar case and threw it in the back trunk. He was traveling alone and just using a local band at each stop. I think he was genuinely happy to see two young kids still into his music. He signed a program for me which I still have. That’s my favorite brush with fame story.
That’s a cool one, hank fan!
Man, I can understand some fan statements being dumb, but to read much more into them than their most superficial meaning is probably due to a huge ego. Even if you have one album out, and are an opening act, odds are good that your fan has no idea what it’s like to know that you’ve sold 675 cd’s to date and eaten pizza noodles for a week to try to make your tour not cost you too much. Your fan has your album and if he came to see you and bothered to say something after the set, he probably doesn’t understand why everyone doesn’t fee the same way about hat you’re doing as he does. I always just say. “Man, that was fun!” But if I ever get treated like some dick, I’ll turn pretty fast. I never go out of my way to meet the band, because I think their music means something far different to them than it does to me, and a lot of the musicians I really like seem to like a lot of music we don’t have in common at all. But treating a fan crappy is unacceptable in my book.
The guys from Lucero and The Dexateens are swell, by the way. Mick Collins and Ko Melina of The Dirtbombs are so nice that they can come to my place anytime.
I’m curious as to why someone would “engage an artist in a discussion over a specific aspect of his or her work.” Unless, I have some kind of personal connection, it jus’ seems inapropriate. And possibly a sign of some lack of manners on the part of the fan. Plus, part of me wants to retain the mystery of the Rawk, know what I mean? One of my biggest fears in meeting Rock Stars, is finding out that one of my idols is a dick. I’d rather not know.
All that being said, I’ve had uniformely positive experiences with the famous cats that I’ve met. “Brevity is the soul of wit.” Can you dig?
2000 Man:
I think that you bring up a very interesting topic. The whole idea of the musician’s music meaning something entirely different to the fan, and the lack of common ground between the artists & admirer in terms of tastes in musik. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve taken recommendations from artist’s interviews or lists of influences, and just been like WTF?
It’s mind boggling. How can someone who’s musik I enjoy soooo much, have such crap taste in musik?
And I’m just generalizing here. I have actually been turned on to a lot of good stuff as well… Just not as much!
Ooooohhh, and one more thing. I just wanted to relay one of my funnier famous person encounters. This is somewhat musik related, but the famous person is an actor.
On one of my first trips to NYC out of morbid curiousity, I wanted to go & see the Dakota. No sooner than when my friends & I had arrived, a taxi pulled up & out hopped Harrison Ford. I was dumbfounded, and said quite loudly “Hey! It’s Han Solo.” It was truely just the first thing to pop into my head. He kind of sheepishly said “Hi” and ran inside.
I think one problem is that we’re so used to reading interviews with artists we like, that we’re tempted to turn a meeting into an interview rather than a conversation. Even though many artists have healthy egos, I’m not sure they always want to talk about themselves, especially to strangers.
I once met Television drummer Billy Ficca when he was working as a hired hand drummer for a not very good band opening for The Plastics many years ago. He was just standing around the club by himself before the headliners came on, and he seemed surprised and happy that somebody recognized him. He wanted to make sure I knew that this was not his real job, which was drumming for The Waitresses at that time, but we had a nice chat about the club we were in (Ol’ Man Rivers out in the swamps outside of New Orleans) and about what the local scene was like. Of course I let him know I liked his playing, but I didn’t dwell on it.
I’m also ok with it when someone is not in the mood to talk. I saw Pere Ubu’s David Thomas in Newark airport once, and his eyes clearly said “Don’t even think about it.” Once walking in the French Quarter I saw Malcolm McDowell coming down the sidewalk towards me. He knew I recognized him, but the vibe was “Please keep walking.” These are not hugely famous and recognizable people, but I know I don’t always want even my friends to talk to me.
I understand that when Ray Davies was living in New Orleans he became a regular at the New Orleans Athletic Club shortly after I stopped working out there. Now that would have been a tough one. I probably would have embarrassed myself, and seeing someone like that repeatedly who has meant so much to me would have been fraught.
I guess I’ve always been influenced by the Catcher in the Rye as a cautionary tale. When Holden says “What really knocks me out is a book, when you’re all done reading it, you wished the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it” and then you think about Salinger’s later life, well, I’ve always got the sense that that’s exactly what’s wrong with fans and I’ve always tried not to be that guy.
A very good friend has played in bands in Boston for almost thirty years and people always want to talk to him about his band from the 80s and while he’s always polite about it, he never talks in depth and tries to turn the conversation as soon as possible. The irony is that he played a series of dates opening for Alex Chilton in the 80s and when he tried to talk to Chilton about his music, Chilton wasn’t having any of it. He doesn’t seem to realize that his attitude when talking about his old band is almost identical to Chilton’s attitude towards Big Star.
Jack White was a very nice guy when I met him. Even got to hold his Kay guitar for a minute. Meg was nice, too. I made her (well, both of ’em, really) laugh when they came off stage.
Some guy was deriding them as they came off (it was an outdoor show at Pier 54 @ 13th St. & the Hudson River in NYC, around the time White Blood Cells was just taking off) for not being authentic blues musicians, or somehow hurting authentic blues musicians, and as she was sitting down at the backstage table where I was planted, drinking copious amounts of free beer, I said in a mock outraged tone “Yeah, it’s because of people like you two that Son House & Charlie Patton can’t get a decent gig nowadays!” It got a laugh.
There were plenty of others, but that’s one of the last shows I saw in NYC (summer of ’01) where I actually spoke to the performers, and probably one of the last five or so that I saw before leaving town.
Hey Chicken, Do you remember what we said to Joe Strummer when we saw him at that little bar @ GW? Did we go “Chris Farley” on him?
Too bad it was for the “Cut the Crap” tour!
You’re also right about me being an a-hole to my fans. No one can compliment me better than I can – so why bother trying.
AndyR, Yeah, we blew it big time with Strummer!! We were a sweating incoherent flash mob surrounding him in the bar. I don’t recall verbatim, but it was along the lines of “I love your work.” He did graciously accept the compliment allowing us to fade away.
Bittman, re-read your post on The White Stripes. “Meg was nice. I made her (well both of ’em, really)” Now that’s the best celebrity story yet!! Both of them!! Schwing. “I made a divorcee in New York City.”
I have sought to avoid these sorts of meetings, at least I did back in the days when it was a possibility. But I did meet “The Kinks,” i.e., Ray and Dave, after a concert at my university in the late 80s (or 90). They were then, as they are now, close to my favorites. And yet I remember very little about it, and no, I wasn’t wasted. My sense is that they were just barely polite. Great story, eh?
Somewhere around 1986 or so, The Feelies came to play in a small room on campus at Penn State. I was really psyched. The same night they played, R.E.M. played at the Civic Arena in Pittsburgh. Consequently, there were a very small turnout for The Feelies. After their brilliant set, I got them to sign a photo and I said something to Glenn and Bill like “sorry about the lousy turnout tonight. it sucks that R.E.M. was also playing tonight”… I could have died as soon as the words were out of my mouth. I certainly didn’t mean it the way I constructed the sentence. Fortunately, they were very gracious and said that they had a good time and that it was a good crowd. I felt awful thinking that I had accidentally insulted them.
I’ve only met a few people like that – one highlight was getting to chat with Glenn Tilbrook after he played a ridiculously great show in Sellersville, PA a few years ago. He was so cool and nice about talking with his fans.
My musical hero is still Ben Vaughn and I used to go see him so many times and bug him to sign stuff that I was sure he’d get a restraining order… 😉
Made her LAUGH, Chickie. By the way, I remember exactly what was said to Joe Strummer, and exactly who said it. It was an invitation to the band to stop by the frat house if they had time, punctuated with the phrase, “We’re the Combat Frat!”(both hands raised, “rockin’ devil horns” displayed). This caused a mass groan from the rest of us, and we beat a hasty, mortified retreat, as Joe resumed being interviewed at the bar. Any of that ring a bell?
All I can say, BobbyB, is that I hope it wasn’t me who said that!
No comment.
And could I interest you & Chickie on investing in a shipment of precious rubies that I just happened to find in an abandoned freighter down at the docks? I’d move ’em myself, but I have to…uhh, go…upstate to a funeral, ….or something. Anyway, it’s the bargain of a lifetime! Don’t miss out! Act fast! Almost too good to be true…
Just email me your bank acct. #’s and PIN codes, and I’ll be back later with two suitcases full of rubies for both of you.