Prelude Two

l woke up around 5 am the next morning, as that's when Margaret had to get up to go to her next acting gig. My insomnia at that time was useful as it was then I thought of a way to repay her for her kindness.

A few hours later, Aaron got up and left for work too, leaving me alone at the apartment. They had trusted me with their spare keys, so after a while, I got up, got dressed, and walked down to the Virgin Megastore in Times Square. It was Up release day, and I was glad to see they had a large Up poster, but that was it...no other displays, and I actually had great difficulty finding the album on the shelves. First I looked in new releases, but didn't see it, then I looked in the Peter Gabriel section...no Up there, either. I finally found it in new releases, but it was crowded out by other cds so it was easy to miss. I bought two copies, grabbed some coffee and breakfast at McDonald's and walked back to Margaret's place.

The time was approaching, so I showered and got into my press uniform. I decided to wear black slacks, black shoes, a white collar button-up blouse, and a VERY BLUE BLAZER. I look good in blue, but more importantly, Gabriel's favorite color is blue.

I rounded up my equipment and dumped them in the same bag that came with my two copies of Up: My cell phone, notepad, tape recorder, Gabesaber pen, and e-mail from Annie saying that I was in fact on the press list. I made my way to the Supper Club.

Walking across bustling Times Square, I soon came across the familiar awning, and saw a line of people forming on the right side of the club entrance. Aha! Lunatics! I thought. I figured this was the time to fish for some Solsburian recognition. I walked up to the first eight people in line and struck up a conversation.

"Hey, there! I take you're all lunatics?"
"Yeah!" replied a few in line.
"Ah, so you're all online fans as well!"
"Yes!" some guy replied. "We heard about this show on petergabriel.com."
"A fine site! But have any of you heard of a site called solsburyhill.org?"

The bustle of Times Square ceased. Crickets chirped in the distance.

Finally, the deafening silence was broken when several people replied to the effect of "No...just petergabriel.com."

"Ah. Yes. Well. Have a good time at the show." Feeling somewhat dejected, I walked away. Memo to self: Stop having these grand delusions of adequacy.

There were several men in tuxedos manning the club's entrance. I asked them where the press was supposed to go. "Do you have any credentials?" I replied that Annie said to just give my name at the door. They said that the "press line" formed on the left side of the entrance, where I noticed no one was standing, and concluded I was the first press flunky to show up for this.

I was reluctant to be first in line, so I just loitered around until I saw a young man and woman step into the press line, then I decided to join them. No sooner did I approach them then the woman introduced herself as Janis, a marketing manager at Universal Music in Canada. I learned that the young man was a friend of hers, and we struck up a conversation. She asked which publication I was with, and I told her I was just a lowly webmaster with a personal fan site. To my surprise, she seemed intrigued by this, and asked several questions about the Hill.

The three of us chatted for a bit. It appears they were on vacation from Canada, but they had heard the scoop that Gabriel was going to perform, so they pulled some strings and got in on this, even though they really didn't plan it. They also talked about how they saw Les Paul play a small club, and then afterwards, sat down at their table, and signed autographs for everyone. They also told me they saw Mayor Guliani that very morning as they were walking across Times Square. For evidence, they showed me the picture they took of him with their digital camera.

At one point, our attention focused on a camera crew that was filming and interviewing people in the fan queue. "Who are they? Local news or something?" I asked. "Oh, that's EPK," Janis replied. It sounded familiar...EPK...I then remembered that I got EPK press stuff sent to me from Mr. Mozo. Janis explained that EPK stood for Electronic Press Kit, and they collected and archived general news to give to various publications, kind of like Associated Press or Rueters.

"Hey, why don't you talk to the crew about your fan site?" Janis said enthusiastically. My stomach tied itself into a granny knot at the thought of being on camera. Not only do I have a face for radio, but I also have a flat, nasal voice that's only fit for print media.

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that..." I said to Janis. But it was too late. Next thing I knew Janis was calling the EPK people over to the press side of the line. "This is Andrea, and she has a fan site..." she told them, and persuaded them to film me, while I just stood there terrified, knowing I had no place to hide.

Soon a large fuzzy boom mic was held near my head, and the lens of a large videocamera was in front of my face. "Um, what do I say?" I said, hoping someone would show up with a teleprompter or hand me a script. The EPK guy said "Just answer my questions, and talk to me, not to the camera. Now, tell us who you are and what do you do..."

"I'm um, Andrea McCasland and I'm, erm, the webmaster of solsburyhill.org..." then I drew a blank. We had to start a again. And again. "Relax" the man assured me. I finally "got it right" and then he dropped this bomb on me, "Why do you like Peter Gabriel?"

In the seven years I've spent writing for the Hill, I've never been able to explore, scratch the surface, adequately express, or even approach having a satisfying answer to this query, and putting it in prose. Now I was supposed to rattle off an answer in twenty seconds on the fly? Yeah, right.

I tried to answer the question, and I don't remember what I said. I vaguely remember babbling for a few seconds and saying "Um" about 485 times. Then, to my relief, it was over. The crew moved on and I was comforted by the fact that footage would never make it past the cutting room floor. Janis insisted I was okay, and told me to send her an e-mail to see if she could get a copy of said EPK footage. (Note to Janis: If you're reading this, every time I've sent you an e-mail, it's bounced back with some unintelligible error.)

Lesson learned: I will never make fun of Gabriel for saying 'um' too often in interviews ever again.

Outside the Supper Club: Chris and I with my Very Blue Blazer

Not too long after this, I heard someone call to me as he got out of a cab. "I'm Chris Rubin," he said, and we shook hands, finally meeting after several years of e-mails. We chatted a bit, and Chris was introduced to Janis and friend. Janis took my picture with Chris standing next to the Up poster plastered next to the club entrance. Later, we couldn't resist eavesdropping the group of five guys in tuxedos who were guarding the doorway, and directing the lunatics and press. They were asking each other who Gabriel was, and none of them seemed to know!

At some point a denim jacket clad Tony Levin appeared in our midst, although I never saw where he came from, a taxi, from inside the club, or what. He chatted with some of the fans, and he truly was just as personable in person he does on his brilliant website. Chris, who had interviewed Tony for Musician Magazine years before, got his attention and asked if he could talk with him for a few moments. To my shock and surprise, Tony told Chris that yes he would, after he got back from grabbing a cup of coffee at a cafe down the street. Tony drinking coffee? Imagine that! Before I could ask Tony to grab me a cup as well, he disappeared.

Then quickly reappeared with a cup of coffee. True to his word, he talked with Chris. Chris re-introduced himself, and I took that opportunity to shake his hand, introduce myself, and then quickly get out of the way while Chris and Tony talked. I stood by and listened in on their short conversation. With all the street noise, I had trouble hearing at times, but I did hear two things worth noting: Tony said that he didn't think Signal to Noise would work live at all as it's mostly orchestra and strings that none of the current band line-up had anything to do with. Second, he noted that the attitudes in Europe and US were different in that Europeans where more acceptable of aging rock stars than Americans where. As an American, I felt slightly slighted...I accept aging rock stars just fine, and that's all that really matters.

Soon Tony had to leave and that left us press folks to converse about idiotic music critics (we blasted Kot and a few others) and the evil that is Microsoft (I expressed my dismay of Up being released exclusively for Windows streaming, and a circle of us Mac users in the press proceeded to blast MS.)

At some point Chris's photographer friend Dan showed up. Chris told me Dan was a fan of the Hill's and he proved so by commenting on some of the content, which soothed my broken ego from talking with the lunatics earlier. He was very cool, and I was glad that he got to come to this.

Around noon, some of the conference organizers, including Annie, came out and started to let the photographers through the velvet ropes. Then Chris caught Annie's attention and she let him and Dan through, and Chris promised to save me a seat. However it appears that they weren't letting anyone else, including Janis and I, inside yet. Then I was treated to a somewhat amusing catch-22...Annie started to have an argument with one of the other people in charge. Annie said that the rest of the press should be allowed in so they could get their names check off the press list, receive their press packs, and get seats inside the club. But the other person kept insisting that no one should be let in until everyone's names could be confirmed on the press list...which was inside the club with the press table. After going back and forth a bit, reason prevailed, and we were let in.

In the foyer was the press table, laden with press packs. I gave some important looking guy with a clipboard my name and the "publication" I was with, to which I proudly replied "solsburyhill.org." I was given a Very Red Press sticker to wear on my Very Blue Blazer, and I went inside the main club.

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