Got assigned a magazine story on a fading pop starlet who’s made some interesting career choices of late. Don’t want to poison the well by giving away details, but the only reason this mag wanted to cover her was because she’d hooked up with a hot indie producer and an up-and-coming college band, eschewing the flourish and drama of her teen years—which were, like, last Tuesday.
Got an earful, more than the mag could handle, so we’re sharing it below the radar with you. The local connection is that the last time this young woman graced our fair city with her presence it was at the Ampitheater, on one of those day-long AM rock showcases. If she ever tours through here again, the most appropriate venue may well be the Bullfinch.
Even before our interview properly began, she was lambasting the very idea of it. “You’re only talking to me because you can.” Which means? “A rag like this couldn’t have gotten within a mile of me when my first album blew up.”
We figured that if she was taking it, we probably had license to antagonize too, so suggested that the very high level of fame she achieved so quickly might well have made her unattractive to the alternative press, which prefers to build up its own pantheon.
“What you guys don’t understand,” she railed, “is that I was always interesting to you. I had all the fans. I had the radio fans, and I always had that pocket of fans at college radio. All us pop stars, we have those; deep-thinkers who defend us like we’re artists. They know the names of our producers and the guys who play on our songs, and the songwriters we’re working with, even when we don’t put it in the liner notes. Seriously. There’s always that fringe, and you guys could always have done an article and pleased that fringe.”
A few more statements along these lines, then Ms Pop of Last Week suddenly appeared to break down. We’d be more sympathetic if she weren’t still being so hostile. “Now these shitty magazines are all I’ve got, til I’m back on radio,” she cried. “You think my fans READ? My fans DANCE!”
The chat kind of danced downhill from there, She wasn’t too articulate about how she’d met her new collaborators (“My manager said it was good idea,” though it appears he’s not her manager anymore) or how she got her ideas or (admittedly, our ultimate last-ditch question) how that little puppy dog of hers is doing.
Some folks, we wager, can only handle power when it’s remote. This is not about getting burned by the sun—we have far better examples of that. This is about getting skinned knees at ground level.
Hope you feel better and the little people flock back, darling. We’d still rather hear your shitty pop while riding mall escalators than just about anybody else’s.
Duly noted: The Daily Ink says their Friday gig with The Cagles will feature an interband jam or two. Go Comics rounds out the Bullfinch bill. … You don’t think you’ve heard of Black Jack and the Dent Teens but it’s really just the Hubba Bubbles in disguise, gigging with a new singer next Tuesday at Hamilton’s back room while Chu is at a a family reunion in Ohio. …