When I interviewed Fiona Apple in late 2005, I thought that if I were somehow a different kind of interviewer, or maybe a different kind of girl, I would have known how to share lipgloss and become best friends with her. It felt, in the setting we were in—a rehearsal studio in Burbank, techs and musicians and guys all around; we were the only women there and we’re roughly the same age—that that’s what should have happened. I don’t know that I can explain it exactly, but if we’d been on a double date we should have gone to the bathroom together,and so I felt confused by my own inability to melt whatever vague frost sat between us. But the thing is that I knew deep down that what was bothering me wasn’t about the interview, because I’d gotten a good one, but about some voracious need to both earn the trust of and be accepted by the people I was interviewing, which is what fuels a lot of interviewers but is fairly suspect when you really isolate and consider it. And the relief and glee I felt when her dad called me to thank me for the piece? It surely made my day a little too much.
Think about that should it please you while watching Fiona Apple play Rusmey Playfield with Nickel Creek tonight at 7pm.
Saw the performance yesterday at the Rumsey playfield. Um…talk about hick-i-fying beautiful music with Nickel Creek. Where’s that barfing emote?