Interview Overture

I realized during work yesterday that I had forgotten my ticket. I had my camera, my recorder, a list of questions for Andrew Giddings - just no ticket. Luckily I didn't have to be at the Overture Center until 6ish which left me plenty of time to run home.

I did so and was able to grab a a bowl of gumbo and change out of my business casual attire (with the emphasis on casual) and into something more comfortable. Triple checking that I was a fully armed and operational music journalist, I drove downtown. The lot across from the Overture Center had available spots - on the roof. Having found a spot, I walked over to the Overture. Never having been there before, I found a couple security guards in the foyer and asked where the hell I was supposed to go. They directed me to the back of the hall. So I walked around the building and dealing with another security guard. I told him that I was there to interview one of the band members and showed him the email Tull's publicist had sent me. A series of pleas on his walkie talkie proved fruitless so he told me to just go in and up to the second floor. He unlocked the door and I wandered upstairs and he met me in the hall. A rough-looking guy was hurrying past and the guard asked him if he was with the band. He replied, "I'm the promoter." Things were looking up. I explained to him my situation and he took the copy of the e-mail and disappeared down the hall and into an office. A couple minutes later he reappeared and told me to go back to the box office to pick up my backstage pass and to head over to the office at the end of the hall. Dutifully I did so.

A couple guys with camera were sitting in the office as was a younger man hunched over a laptop. I set my bag down and began to peel the backing off of the pass which was a sticker as opposed to the laminated type. Having cut my nails recently, I found it difficult. Then a woman walked in as if she were looking for someone. I recognized her as Shona Anderson, Ian's wife. Seeing my struggle, she joking remarked that the badges were IQ tests. I'd be mocked by Ian's wife!

I sat down and introduced myself. The 2 older men with cameras turned out to be a couple goofballs who have a show on the cable access channel of a Chicago suburb called Psychobabble. We sat around and shot the shit for a few minutes when the guy who was at the laptop approached me and asked me a question. At first, I didn't understand what he said. It wasn't so much that he had a harsh English accent as much as my brain wasn't working correctly. He repeated his question, "Are you here to interview Ian?" and I realized that he was James Duncan, a.k.a. James Anderson, Ian's son. He played drums on Ian's last two solo albums and I had seen him play on Ian's Rubbing Elbows tour in 2002. He wandered out and I talked with the guys from Illinois some more. They were here to interview Doane Perry.

Various people walked in and out, talking with one another and occasionally pecking away at the laptop. After a short while, Doane was ready and the two guys left. I could hear them greet the drummer. James said that Andy usually eats after rehearsal so it'd be about 20 minutes. And so I waited.

Thinking that I would be pressed for time, I perused my list of questions trying to hone it down to a select 8 or 10. When that was done, I gave the Isthmus a once over. As I was reading, I heard a couple voice so I looked up hoping that James was back to escort me to Andy's dressing room. Instead I found two men clad in black standing in the doorway looking over some papers. One was facing me while the other had his back to me - at an angle. My brain did a doubletake and I realized that the man facing away from me was Ian himself. It was an odd feeling to casually look up and realize that I was in the presence of the man responsible for writing so much music that I have enjoyed over the past 17+ years and about which I've taken apart and analyzed for the past several years. If you were to google my name, a large number of the hits would relate to my writing on Tull. And I'm up to 3 languages now!

I've read enough about Ian and accounts of fans meeting him to know that, while he's not unfriendly at work, he is strictly business. So I felt uncomfortable saying anything to him. He wandered out and back in alone. He was poking at the laptop when I decided that I couldn't let the chance to at least say hello to him go by so I bid him a "Good evening." He turned around and gave me a hasty smile and nodded his head in acknowledgement. He was obviously busy making sure that the night's show was to go off without a hitch and had no time for some goofball from the press. While it would have been nice for him to have said hello, I wasn't surprised by his indifferent reaction. He wandered out and back in with someone else. Apparently Ian was having a problem with the computer. He wasn't sure how to safely remove a USB device of some kind. But they puzzled it eventually.

Ian left and was replaced by more tour folks who proceeded to print out copies of the setlist. The guys from Psychobabble returned and we chatted with the roadies. I asked one of them when they had gotten into Madison and he said that they had arrived on Tuesday. Wandering around town, he was assailed by people asking him about the election - no doubt making sure that he was a Kerry supporter. When he told them that he was not an American, his interlocutors just left him in pursuit of someone else to pester. The road crew were really friendly. At one point, James said that they were going to go to Stillwaters after the show if we wanted to stop by. I told him that it was a frat bar and he replied, "Exactly!" Obviously he takes advantage of his accent and association with a rock band to get pussy. My kinda guy. AT one point, guitarist Martin Barre poked his head in and said hello. One of the Psychobabble guys asked him about his hat and he replied that it was a "hippie hat. An English hippie hat." Martin seemed to be in a very cheerful mood.

The roadies left to distribute the setlists and do any last-minute things that needed to be done while the Psychobabble guys headed to the theater as they had gotten permission to videotape the first couple songs. I looked at the time - 7:07. The show was to start at 7:30 so things looked glum. Roadies scurried in and out of the room. Finally, James returned and hauled me up to Andy's dressing room. If nothing else, I could just meet him and ask a few brief questions. The door was marked with an airplane as Andy got his pilot's license recently and his diary at the Tull website recounted his flight with the Blue Angels. James knocked and Andy answered. He is tall - about 6'4" - and he looked tanned. James explained that I was to do an interview. Andy replied that he had heard nothing from Anne, the publicist. He apologized profusely for not being able to do it. I told him that it was no problem as it was late and there was a gig to do. I shook his hand and told him that it was nice to meet him anyway. He apologized again and I left. Disappointed, I dropped my bag off at my car and headed into the theater after puffing a quick choke.