As a creative person with a perfectionist streak, there are few things more daunting to me than the whiteness and space of the blank page. That is part of what keeps me from blogging – the gnawing anxiety surrounding the blankness of that page and whether or not I can fill it with something that communicates exactly what I wish to communicate in a manner which honors the time it takes for someone, anyone, to consume what I have created. This goes a long way toward explaining why this post, the first in over a year, and one which I promised to a couple of friends on my birthday (November 9^th), is finally seeing the light of day some 16 days later.

The fact is that it has taken me each and every one of those days to sort out and get a handle on exactly how I am feeling on this occasion, and the most effective way to express it. As it happens, it is a very wide mix of emotions.

First – don’t bother trying to count the candles on the cake.  The number is off. I won’t talk about my age. But I will say that it is an age that has cemented the idea for me of being “grown.” Complete, in a manner of speaking.

For the birthdays of the 13 years preceding this one, the day has caused a bit of trauma for me. It seemed to be this kinetically-driven, unstoppable occurrence that “happened to” me – completely involuntarily. The passage of the 13 years prior to this one have, in my most personal heart of hearts (although my “game face” has generally remained intact in public) felt like a freight train being pulled by a locomotive at full throttle heading downhill, helped along by gravity, dragging me behind it.  I wanted to stop it, to slow it down, to somehow get it moving at a speed that made me feel “comfortable,” and that didn’t make me feel as though I was somehow missing the beautiful vistas on the way because it was all just moving TOO DAMN FAST.  I was still gathering the building blocks of who I am, but that didn’t stop those pages from flipping off the calendar, I felt as though I were being told, “Hurry up. You’re getting farther along the route. You’re missing it.”  I, however, felt that I was still growing, developing, learning, “gestating.” In fact, when some people have said that they observe a Peter Pan-esque quality about me -- I “look younger” than I am, I “come off younger” – I never bothered to think about why that might be. Now it makes an odd sort of sense. Despite the numbers, I was still an entity under development. This year, this birthday, however, felt different.

For the first time in my life, I feel a complete sense of ownership over myself, my entire journey looking backward and my destiny looking forward. The pieces are in place; “development” is turning to actualization. I am not sure what brought this about. Perhaps it is the significance of the NUMBER of this birthday for me. Perhaps it is a delayed sense of pride and accomplishment in finishing the Master’s degree last year, despite all of the obstacles that could so easily have been prohibitive and gotten in the way.  Perhaps it has been the hard personal self-examination that I have undertaken in the last couple of years, underscored by certain personal interactions with certain individuals who not only effected a cognitive dissonance by undervaluing me personally, but also triggered enough of a disconnect from my own true essence as to cause me to question my OWN worth. Perhaps it is the evolution of my professional self that paralleled an evolution in my personal self, and the satisfaction and sense of pride and purpose that I derive from doing what I do. Perhaps it is all of these things, but one thing is clear: Terik, sir, you have ARRIVED. You are at full bloom. Congratulations. All things considered, getting here has been no small feat.  As someone I truly love said to me last month (before a public event I was very nervous about), “You are good. It’s time for you to OWN it.” I do. And I am thankful.

One of my favorite lines from Max Ehrmann’s “Desiderata” (the full text of which is posted on the wall near my bed so it is one of the first things I see when I awaken each day) is: “Take kindly the counsel of the years; gracefully surrendering the things of youth.” This year, in 2011, I surrender. And I am thankful.

I will continue to play the game of “How old do I Look?” with individuals who do not already KNOW the factual answer, and for that reason, I will not disclose my actual age on this website. (And I try not to on most others as well!) Many people whom I meet socially do not understand why I usually dodge the (seemingly simple) question “how old are you?” and often they react with suspicion, frustration and sometimes even contempt. What those people do not understand is that my formative years were spent firmly and totally under the influence of show business, in an era where a performer simply does NOT reveal his/her age. It simply wasn’t DONE. I recognize that eras shift, time changes, etiquette softens and society seems to become increasingly coarse and tends to toss away certain mores – this polite refusal to discuss such matters as one’s age, sexual proclivities, income, etc. – become “old-fashioned.” I’ll take that on. Call me old fashioned, but some things are, and will remain, none of people’s business. I’ll shoot and produce reality shows (and have a fantastic time doing them, usually), but if you ever see me APPEAR in one, know that I am either (a) desperate for money or (b) somehow mentally incapacitated. I am a private person. I own that, too. So given that stance against the backdrop of a media world where the beast needs to be fed, and everyone expects to not only enjoy the CREATION, but consume the world of the CREATOR as well (no more of that “pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!” shit), why would I blog? What is there to share?

There is a reason. It has suddenly become incumbent upon me to blog again because the suggestion was strongly made to me by a friend whom I greatly respect. For nearly two years now, I have been on a journey that I could never have foreseen by any stretch of the imagination. This friend has watched me on this journey from the very first step, when I approached him and asked, “Do you think I should make this a documentary?” I thought I should, and for nearly two years now, I have been. About a month ago, this friend checked in with me and said, “You should really chronicle the process of making this film. This is changing you.” I had been thinking the same thing, but hearing it from someone else drove it home; he was right. As it is a subject that requires an entry of its own to begin chronicling this life-changing experience, I will save more detail for the next entry. Suffice it to say that I will never be the same after I finish this project. THAT is what I am willing to share. This is changing me. I am being forced to confront my own attitudes and biases, my own fears, and my own life experience via someone else’s life story. Further, I am keenly aware of the fact – every single day that I work on this project – that it is not about ME at all. It is about something larger than me, something that the world can, should, and will learn from. I am but a “surrogate mother” and temporary custodian of something that will eventually belong to the world and, hopefully, change that very world in some small and specific ways. It is an honor.  It is humbling. And the scope of the responsibility is terrifying at times. But as certainly as I know that my name is Terik King, I also know that tuning back isn’t an option.  I have been called, and I will answer. And I am thankful.

More later…

Yes, I know it's huge. You think something so large could be that way BY ACCIDENT?

At 12:01am on Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, the lights dimmed at the Clelsea Cinemas Auditorium #7, as it did in 18,000 theatres across 97 countries today, and Michael Jackson's This Is It debuted for its limited two-week run. Of course, I had to be among the first to take it in, so there I was at Chelsea. I've been asked a lot to relate what the eperience was like for me, so here is my best stab at it.

Having gone into the film "well-medicated" (shout-out to the Texas-size margarita at BBQ's across the street) and not really knowing what to expect, either from the film or from myself, I just numbly walked in and found seats in the packed (but not to the rafters) theatre. I needed to hunt down a T-shirt, so i went back out into the theatre lobby where the Thriller video was playing on a large screen and a few "dancers" were awkwardly trying to replicate the choreography. It was out here that I ran into my compatriot DJ YGB, and I expected we'd sit together (but alas were separated). In any event, the energy was both parts somber and celebratory, probably leaning a bit more toward the former than the latter. So I get my t-shirt, and I slip back into the theatre just as the lights are going down.

As a student of the documentary form, I'm used to more information coming aross from this type of film. That a story, be it an individual (Michael's) or collective (the entire company's) one, a story will be told. At the beginning, This Is It started off satisfying those expectations by talking to some of the (so damn YOUNG!) dancers who had been selected to perform with him; it felt good.

And then...there he was.

Michael was launching into his rehearsal of Wanna Be Startin' Somethin.' I expected to gasp, to tear up, to break out into screams of joy or...whatever, but I didn't. We applauded in the theatre, but it was a tentative applause. It remained that way through the night. ("I don't know whether...to laugh or cry..." "She's Out of My Life")

For the next hour and 52 minutes, we watched Michael work. And work. And work. And he was phenomenal, but wasn't he always? Any idea that he was a weak, sickly, drug-addled near-invalid are dispensed with by the 5-minute mark. And then there is MORE footage of Michael working. And he is a wonder to watch, but I'll be honest: I expected nothing less. Michael has always been the master of his own house, and during rehearsals, the Staples Center was Michael's House. Nothing groundbreaking there.

I was also a bit disappointed in the set list. See, I have seen (and retain DVD copies of) all of Michael's tours dating back from the late 70s. While they have steadily grown in size and scale, the song lists themselves never evolved too far from the Victory Tour/Bad Tour formula (which was an phenomenal one).

One thing I always wished was that he would draw deeper from his immense body of work and shake up his set lists a bit more.

After I bought my ticket to see the first show in London, us ticket buyers were sent a link by AEG to submit suggested songs for his set list, and that MJ would make selections form the (millions of) suggestions received. I chose some phenomenal ones I haven't heard him do a gazillion times (I Can't Help It, The Lady In My Life, etc.) as well as th ehits, and was hopeful tha I'd be surprised when I got to London. I don't know if that was a stunt or what, but his order of songs felt like it wouldn't be much of a deviation from his HIStory tour in 1995. I would have loved to see him preparing to strip-down all the bells, whistles and pyrotechnics, sit on a stool, and absolutely open up his heart and serenade us with One Day In Your Life or something similarly underplayed. Judging from This Is It, that wasn't the plan. Michael was going to be Michael.

And MICHAEL he was. One thing was clear: he was going to kick the effects spectacular aspect of the show up to a level we had never seen before. At Chelsea where I viewed it, the audience GASPED at points where we saw reveals of some of the special effects he had planned. It was going to be extraordinary. As far as all the repeated mantras of "Michael Jackson set out to prove he still had it," and the like; I find these to be non-statements. Of course Michael "still had it." His true believers never concluded he had lost anything. If you needed This Is It to show you that, it's a reflection of your miscalculation of his "decline," not of any extraordinary action on Michael's part during these rehearsals. He was the Michael Jackson he's always been: focused, engaged, soft-spoken yet firmly in charge, apt to the artist's habit of metaphor, and, of course, a singular talent that is ONLY Michael Jackson. The brightest light I have ever seen.

And then it was over. Before I knew what had hit me, the credits were rolling. No situating the rehearsals against the now-too-keenly-known fact of his death. No "after words" with the cast/crew. Just rolling credits. I felt like that left a feeling of something "unresolved." As soon as that word came to mind for me, I immediately believed that this had to be a deliberate choice. It should have been left unresolved. Michael's life was left unresolved.

For all the talk (especially in that endlesly rebroadcast clip of Michael's April press conference) of this being Michael's "final curtain call," it hurt me somewhat when I realized that he didn't literally get a curtain call in This Is it - the planned London live shows or, as it turns out, this documentary. He never got to take a bow.

NEW YORK TIMES REVIEW OF THIS IS IT

When I was a kid, there was no TV series I'd loved more than V. From the original 1983 miniseries, to the sequel (the arguably better) V: The Final Battle in 1984, to the series which ran for a single season after Final Battle in 1984, I was a complete V-maniac.

I remember being in school and arguing with Ami Thorpe about who was uglier, and we'd hit below the belt when we called each other V's. In a way, I almost WANTED to be one of those lizards-on-the-DL. Diana the head lizard, Mike Donovan, Ham Tyler...those were my peeps.

When it was cancelled after the second season, I my childhood naivete came crumbling around me. "You mean, they just took it OFF?" I remember asking my father. I learned about cancellation of TV shows. I cried. Oh, the trauma!

DIANA: Who have they got that's badder than this?I know. I needed friends. But that ship has sailed....

So you'd think I'd be happy that ABC is bringing a - what? - a NEW V?

Hmmm....

I'm resisting the urge to sound curmodgeonly increasingly more often these days. (It ain't sexy.) And what could possibly sound more curmodgeonly than complaining about remakes of things because they were moments in time that "should be left alone." My recent beefs: the Dreamgirls film, the remake of Fame, all the damned Disney cartoon theatrical productions on Broadway, not to mention the CEASELESS Broadway dust-offs of 50-year old shows in lieu of exciting new theatrical properties...I could go on and on.... But again, don't want to sound curmodgeonly.

In the name of not being curmudgeonly, being "open" and all that jazz, I will watch the "new" V and give it a fair shot. But I will say this ahead of time: it'd BETTER BE GOOD.

Yes, the special effects in the 80s were hokey and somewhat primitive, and that advances in CGI and digital effects make it possible to do an extraordinary update of V. That would be the case with any of the aforementioned remakes as well. But for whatever reason, it appears that the greenlight guys and creative teams appear to rest on a misguided notion that the technology will carry it, without imagination and stories. That's when we get into trouble. It's also a bad idea to be so (perhaps arrogantly) enamored with the "newness" of their production that they fail to draw upon legacy characters from preceding productions which would only add dimension to the "continuation" of the story which they are building upon.  (In this case, the "new" V, Diana should be a Leader Emeritus a'la' Joan Collins.)

If you're going to mine history because (perhaps) there is a dearth of new ideas in today's dumbed-down talent pool, it would be unwise to insult the original audience (whose memory of the original remains intact) with the attitude that the story in which they became invested is as good as never having happened, and that now they should become invested in your version because...well...it's new. Hopefully one day one of these remake producers will absorb that simple lesson.

But don't let me be the judge. (at least not solely.)

Take a look at the "new," and then the old. Improvement? Bastardization of the past? Guess I'll find out Tuesday at 8.

THE NEW ABC V TRAILER

THE ORIGINAL RECAP FOR NBC's V: THE FINAL BATTLE

I highly doubt that anyone living outside of New York City will care much about this post, but I have to express this. So here we go.

Anyone who knows me at all knows how disenchanted I have become with living in this zoo that passes for a city. I can’t get out of here soon enough. In fact, because I’ve already decided that my days here are numbered, I even decided that it would be pointless to vote in the upcoming New York mayoral election that pits Independent/Republican “incumbent” Mike Bloomberg against Democratic Controller Bill Thompson. I had pretty much decided to abstain, and say “to hell with it” and just move out as soon as I finish at The New School in May.  This, despite an inclination as a Black man to exercise my hard-won right to vote even if it seems pointless. The local media has, aside from the airing of paid campaign ads, largely ignored the race, which is a favorable position for a self-financed billionaire incumbent candidate (who also, “coincidentally” owns the media outfit Bloomberg LP).Tonight, however, I’ve changed my tune. Even though it’ll probably be as productive as pissing in the wind, I’m going to waste a couple of hours by going to my polling place and doing my small, insignificant part to try to rid the city of Bloomberg.

I hereby declare publicly that I will throw my vote (away) behind Bill Thompson, even though he probably won’t win and the voter turnout will probably be about 16 people. Why? Here’s why.

1. Bloomberg’s anti-democratic move to circumvent the will of the voters who placed a 2-term limit on elected office for the Mayor.  Apparently Mike seems to think that he knows better than we do whether the term limits were appropriate or not, and, rather than hold a referendum so we can uphold or reverse the law that we upheld twice in two referendums in 1993 and 1996. (See the New York Times’ article Voters Like Mayor, but Not His Path to 3rd Run). While Bloomberg may have curried favor with cosmetic issues like bike lanes (which I think are a joke), fixing potholes and planting trees, there is nothing more insulting, condescending and, once again, anti-Democratic than the path that Bloomberg took to use the City Council and State Legislature  to impose his will over that of the voters. Big Rich Mike knows what’s better for us than we do? I think not.
2. 311 is a joke. Yes, I’m channeling Flavor Flav, but without the tongue-in-cheek radical humor slant.
   As I write this, it is 3am and there are seven loud, drunken Mexicans in my hallway arguing about whatever in front of my apartment. Twice I have had to open my overpriced door to tell them to keep it down. Finally, I’d had enough, and I called 911 (as you would in any other town) to make a noise complaint. Since this is considered a “non-emergency” (though I bet if it were happening in Riverdale instead of Harlem it probably wouldn’t be) I was transferred to another of Bloombastard’s pet projects, the 311 hotline/placebo. After holding for about 8 minutes, a sleepy-sounding operator took a report and read a script saying that the NYPD had up to 8 hours to respond to the complaint, “when officers are available that aren’t responding to emergencies.” So maybe the answer, then, would be for me to open my door, stab one of them, and then call 911 and have it be an emergency, no? But 311 is obviously a way to screen out what the NYPD considers “important” enough to deem an immediate response. Bloomie strikes again.
3. Taxes, taxes, taxes. I have been struggling to quit smoking, as my friends well know. I’m a singer, and I know that cigarettes are a surefire path to Mariah Carey-style vocal triflingness. However, the prices of cigarettes have climbed year after year in this city, now averaging around $9.50-$10.00 per pack. See, every time there is some kind of “fiscal emergency,” the taxes on cigarettes are raised. Even though I might not be a militant pro-smoking advocate, I deeply resent having to pay about $5.25 in government fees to smoke in New York City, which is more than the overall cost of a pack of cigs in such places as Virginia and the Carolinas. If you need to find some money in the budget, find another way other than shaking US down. Maybe there should be a tax per-pound levied against all the overweight tourists that make it so damned impossible to fir into a regulation size seat on the subway. How about THAT, Mr. and Mrs. Obese America? Again…f**k you, Bloomberg.
4. Mr. Environmental Mayor has been stuffing my mailbox with self-funded campaign junk mail EVERY OTHER DAY FOR 3 MONTHS. Again, his money, apparently, talks. And it doesn’t necessarily speak the truth, either. But as long as he has millions of his personal dollars to fund the distortions and a compliant local media that doesn’t bother to challenge it, I guess all is fair, right? (See the Associated Press’ Bloomberg Has Spent $64.8 Million on 3rd Campaign and New America Media’s report that he is on track to spend $100 million in the race.)

I could go on and on, but that won’t help me sleep, which was the original problem in the first place. So yeah, on November 3^rd, Bill Thompson gets my vote. And on May 1, 2010, I call my moving truck. June 1, 2010, is D-Day.

Once upon a time, considering that I’ve spent most of my years living in this city, I would never have imagined that I would have such contempt for the place. I used to love it here. Now, I can’t get out soon enough. Nice place to come, take in a show, do some work (I do work in media, after all), but a HORRIBLE place to live. And I’m done. Y'all can HAVE it.

My lease is up in T-minus 256 days and counting. Can’t happen a minute too soon.

(Who ARE these people who manage to blog daily, anyway? Surely they can't ALL be trust fund babies...where do they find the TIME?)

However, if you are reading this, I ask you for your help with the OTHER popular area of this site, my New School Radio show, OPEN YOUR MIND. I'll be as brief as I can, which is difficult.

First, understand that I do not get compensated in ANY WAY for doing the show. I do not even receive any academic credit for it. I do it because it is a passion of mine. I do it because I have a voice that, apparently, people feel needs to be heard. I do it because there are subjects and perspectives that are too frequently underreported and ignored by mainstream media, and a University radio operation provides me with an excellent framework within which I can entertain and, hopefully, enlighten. And let's face it: I also do it because I am at a career crossroads and honestly have (for the most part) become disenchanted with being a performer and think that I'm getting too damn old to be competing with these mass-produced crowds of 22-year-olds at auditions when I have so much more to offer the world than I can show them while playing a 'happy darkie' in the chorus of RAGTIME. I've recorded four episodes already with the intent of releasing them weekly, however, as you can see on the OPEN YOUR MIND page (as well as the official www.newschoolradio.org page) only one has been released. I want you all to understand that this is not my fault.

Over the last 48 hours, I have struggled with trying to upload my second episode to the New School Radio station site. The technology has not allowed me to.

For a little background -- all last year, as some of you may have noticed, New School Radio operated with a bad JOOMLA interface. The player was awful (no downloads, no fast-forwarding/rewinding, no feedback/comments mechanism). This was the #1 complaint we received - tha the interface was AWFUL. At the time, I served as Program Director of the station, and tried my best to rally the more than 60 people (New School faculty AND students) to work steadfastly to move the station to a better platform. What the "web team" chose was the interface that you see today, and it was supposed to be launched in April. It was not. In the meantime, I struggled to work with a large number of student producers to create exceptional programs that people would enjoy DESPITE the horrible interface. Under my watch, the programming increased more than 300% from a disparate and meager collection of about 15 unrelated podcasts to an abundance of regular series (including mine), two weekly newscasts and a rich selection of special features. I did this without much assistance from the PAID faculty and staff who oversee the station. It exhausted me, physically and emotionally, and I decided to resign from the Program Director position and spend my last year focusing on delivering a top-flight talk show.

Over the summer, the WNSR geniuses decided to take the site offline completely while they supposedly migrated the entire archive from the old platform to the new one. I ask you, my friends: What media outlet truly believes it can go dark for three months and retain any semblance of an audience? (Answer: NONE.) I was hurt by this, because I felt that the rich array of programming that could still have been available, which I worked SO HARD to ensure was delivered to the station, was suddenly GONE. I also felt that this misguided move squandered all of the momentum that we had built over the last year. I took it personally, because I care deeply about everything I do. (Otherwise, I simply won't do it.)

When I returned, after this awful, tragic summer, to try booking the new season of OPEN YOUR MIND, I found that I had to work AROUND the absence of a working WNSR site to book guests. I am fortunate and extremely grateful that the four I have done so far were willing to take me at my word and do the interviews. Now, however, there is an inexplicable mix of technological and bureaucratic madness that has prevented me from delivering the show weekly, as I have promised. These faculty members haven't returned e-mails, ignored calls/texts, and refined the high art of making excuses rather than working steadfastly to fix the problem. One of my subjects, Craig Seymour, was interviewed FOUR WEEKS AGO, and I would love to be able to deliver on my promise to expose him and his work to a New School and online audience, however, the faculty apparently does not deem fixing this to be a high priority. In the meantime, this is making ME look like a fraud. My reputation, and possible future career in broadcasting, is predicated on establishing an audience and a portfolio of interviews, however they don't appear to understand this - or even care. And I am NOT the only show producer experiencing this frustration. However, when I complain, it is simply chalked up to Terik being a "perfectionist" and "difficult."What they fail to understand is that they are HUMILIATING me.

I beg you for your help. In the coming week I (and another conscientious show producer) will be seeking a meeting with Peter Haratonik, the Director of the Media Studies Program at The New School, to attempt to make him understand this, and ask that (a) the issue be fixed so that I can continue to deliver the show to my audience as they expect it, (b) to DEMAND more accountability from the FOUR different faculty members with oversight of the station, and (c) to make him understand that this culture of inertia and bureaucracy that is becoming epidemic at The New School is potentially damaging to our careers, and it is inexcusable that we pay $1,083 PER CREDIT to attend a school that is acting as a barrier to our achievement of excellence. This is a painful issue.

If you have enjoyed OPEN YOUR MIND, I ask that you open your heart and raise your voice. Please call and e-mail the following individuals and DEMAND that they do something to prioritize fixing the website so that I (and the other hardworking producers) can deliver our programs.

Peter Haratonik - Director, Media Studies Program, The New School; Phone: 212-229-8903  E-mail: haratonp@newschool.edu

Jim Briggs - Instructor, WNSR Radio Lab/Graduate Faculty Advisor, WNSR/New School Radio; E-mail: jimbriggs3@gmail.com

Sarah Montague - Instructor, ON AIR: New School Radio at Eugene Lang College/The New School; e-mail: montagus@newschool.edu

Jane Pirrone - Instructor, Parsons School of Design Radio course (with direct oversight of web operations); e-mail: PironeJ@newschool.edu

Please understand that this is my final year at The New School, and consistent dellivery of a well-listened-to program is critical as I prepare to re-enter the marketplace. Each week that I lose brings me closer to that date, and The New School, with this situation, is chaining me down and damaging my reputation and earning potential.

I thank you for your support, and hope to return to you on OPEN YOUR MIND very soon.

I’m not a praying person, but if I were, I’d pray that this fatal weakness would go away. Somehow. That I could fortify myself against the vulnerability that manifests itself in this one area of my life time and time again. This fatal flaw has the ability to undermine everything else I have going on; every strength, gift, attribute can be reduced to dust if and when this spot gets hit. What in the world do I do about THAT?

Does everyone have one of these?

That’s all I have to say about that. In a mere six hours, the editing studio awaits. Time to pop the 2 Ambien pills and hope for the best.

This is a performer who has gained national attention for being charismatic more than being a vocal dynamo. Yet I, for a number of reasons, found this guest fascinating. So it was a good time to meet the guy and pitch him on appearing on my show. The challenge was not to get plastered while having cocktails during the show. (Mission accomplished.)

What struck me about this particular performer, as I watched him work, was how absolutely fearless he is.  It takes a lot of courage to do a cover of "Purple Rain" in a small club, and to do "A Song for You" when you're not Donny Hathaway or Whitney Houston. You just don't do that. But he did. If I had his courage, I might still be working as a singer.

My desire was not simply to be “another” interview. My desire was to get this performer to open up and show us what lies beneath the veneer that the world had seen of him on television. My rule of thumb was that if I had heard a question asked somewhere else, I would avoid it.

Apparently the pitch worked, because he said yes. The rub, however: rather than recording it sometime between Monday and Friday of this week, I had to do it on Sunday, which never happens. Especially when I had an interview already set for Friday. So essentially the days that constituted the rest of the week all bled from one into the other. On Wednesday night I landed the interview. On Thursday I had to (in addition to going to class) prep the interview that I conducted on Friday. After coming out of the interview on Friday, for Friday night through the entire day on Saturday, I was prepping the interview on Sunday. Sunday morning, first thing, it was head into the studio and set up for Guest X, who was due to arrive at 3pm.

It all went off without a hitch. I think it was one of the best interviews I’ve ever conducted. I came away with a great admiration for my subject, coupled with an almost big-brotherly feeling of protectiveness toward him. The music business is tough. Guest X is a poetic soul in the classic sense.  He’s about to take on one hell of a machine. And I’ve got his back.

So the interview with Guest X will be online within two weeks. It was orginally scheduled to air the week of 9/28, but I might switch things up and put it online next week instead. Obviously the picture with this image, blurred face and all, is a teaser. Can you figure out who Guest X is?