As many of you know, I met music critic Robert Christgau last Wednesday at his home in NYC. I interviewed him for about 3 hours, after which we sat with his wife, spoke more casually, and drank whiskey for another 30-60 minutes. Swoon! Again, as many of you know, this man’s work means the world to me, and I’m writing my PhD dissertation about his work and its applications to academia and other kinds of life on earth. Heavy. Anyway, the entire experience was some kind of adventure. Here’s what happened:
A snowstorm happened. Monday night. Maryland was not hit too hard, but everywhere to the north and south of us was buried in snow. We had reservations on a Greyhound bus, but apparently they are a first come, first served operation, which isn’t a problem unless other forms of transportation are canceled due to snow. The bus arrived and they had seats for only 4 passengers. Thirty to forty of us were in line, of course. After a mild panic, my in-laws offered to drive us up to NYC. Unfortunately, by the time we would have driven back home, prepared for the trip, and gotten back on the road, we probably wouldn’t have made it in time for my interview with Mr. Christgau. So I called to cancel or postpone.
I hate phones. (Ring.) I have trouble understanding just about everyone on a cell phone, and I always notice those uncomfortable pauses and delays that seem to be inherent in this otherwise convenient technology. (Ring.) What if I misunderstand him, or it’s awkward? (Click.)
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this Mr. Christgau?”
“Yes.”
“This is Bradley Sroka, I’m interviewing you this afternoon. But I don’t think I can make it. Can we postpone, or do the interview over the phone?”
(Pause.) (Longer pause.)
“No, I don’t think so…” (My world is ending…) “We can’t do it over the phone…” (Okay, maybe only crumbling…) “This kind of thing needs to be done in person.” (Plane tickets are expensive, but I can do this…) “How about tomorrow at 3?” (Oh, sweet Jesus, thank you!)
We talked about the blizzard in New York. He gave me directions from my sister-in-law’s apartment to his apartment so that I could stick to the sidewalks that are plowed. He relieved all of my fears, because he came across as a nice and helpful man. We hung up, the family jumped in the car, and we made it to NYC by Tuesday evening.
When I arrived at Christgau’s apartment on Wednesday afternoon, he was listening to Big Boi’s Sir Lucious Left Foot one more time, and we talked about Eminem’s Recovery for a few minutes, which I’d figured for a dud, but he graded A- after waking up with “Love the Way You Lie” in his head (both reviews were posted at his Expert Witness blog Friday morning). He asked if I wanted coffee, I said yes because I never turn down coffee, and he sat me down in his dining room for the interview, much of the content of which will end up in my dissertation.
So, what was he like? I expected him to be… I don’t know, hard to impress? And perhaps he can be. But in our interview he was charming, forthcoming, kind, candid, and thoughtful, just like his writing. When he answered my questions, he was far more animated than I expected, and throughout our conversation he was enthusiastic, attentive, and serious yet always playful. He was unpretentious. I’m also pleased to report that based on this interview my theories concerning his work are correct, or at least on the right track.
After the bulk of the interview, he let me poke around his office, and check out his running lists of as-yet-unpublished raves and pans. I pulled out my new CD of Louis Armstrong’s first recording sessions (in 1923 with King Oliver), and he eagerly put it on the stereo. We talked a little, ate crackers, olives and cheese, and he asked me questions about myself. His wonderful wife Carola and I spoke a little about favorite TV shows, which was great except my mind was burned out given the last three hours, so I owe her a better, more extensive list of faves.
After a while, I decided not to overstay my welcome, though both hosts were gracious. I said my goodbyes, and met Becky across the street where she waited for me drinking ginger ale with free refills at an empty bar. I waited until now to write this little travelogue, because from that moment until this morning, it was all too much to compute. Christgau’s writing made me who I am—he provided me a way to see the world that is smart and critical, yet fun and pleasurable. That’s big, and it’s made me a much better and happier person. I hope to explain this in my dissertation. In the meantime, I feel satisfied, and I’m eager to get to work. This essay was a nice first step. Thanks for reading!
Bradley Sroka
1/3/11
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