Gedge makes for an ideal interview. He's just as anxious to talk film as I am and we lose track of time chatting about the oscars vs. the BAFTAs, running films by each other to see if we'd seen them (I missed Marie Antoinette, he Hunger), our mutual love of British Sea Power and especially their last record Man of Aran. I don't always feel like I'm my age. My favorite records were recorded mostly before my birth and I'm practically a custodian at area art houses, I'm there so often. I bore everyone in earshot with this film or that band and I'm never satisfied unless I'm finding some obscure 70s film and then ripping its soundtrack. Gedge's hunger was no less grand but he enjoys a distance from film that I don't that ensures he goes into everything new, no prejudice. I envy him that. I also envy his creative genius and drive. He's made nearly a dozen proper albums in TWP and his side project with Steve Albini, Cinerama, inspired by film scores. Gedge has routinely sacrificed commercial success for artistic integrity and for that he has a life pass. If he'd released the same album over and over again he'd still be worthy of respect, but he's never stopped evolving which makes him a rare bird indeed. Standing at the counter, I felt awed. Two days later at espresso royale in my Wedding Present shirt, I felt like the luckiest kid in the world. I get shit for being into music and film to the point of esotericism, but occasionally I get to meet people like David Gedge and it's all worth it.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Poorly Shot Interviews Over Coffee #7
I'm standing at the counter of the Clear Conscious Cafe waiting on two lattes, one with low-fat milk, the other with soymilk. I chatted genially with the two hip kids behind the counter and occasionally looked back to my chair where David Gedge sat. David Gedge of the Wedding Present. David Gedge was waiting on me. He'd been making music as the vocalist and rhythm guitar player of The Wedding Present four years before I was born. Four months after me their second studio album, Bizarro, was released. That's why the Wedding Present were here, to play all of Bizarro for a crowd of Boston's hippest. Hours later, looking out on the crowd I'd pick out such Cambridge personalities as Ned Hinkle, creative director of the Brattle Theatre, and that guy with the beard who works at Planet Records. Two days later one of the baristas at Espresso Royale would tell me how bummed he was he'd missed the show. For the thirty minutes that Gedge and I chatted and for the hour I stood behind the velvet rope, dancing spasmodically while the band played their best songs, I was the envy of all the world. This won't happen again. I make sure to enjoy every second of it.