Only, I went out that night (to the Reanimator/Supersprite/Octant show, which was fantastic, and to Dillinger Escape Plan, who sort of sucked but the audience was very entertaining) and didn't wake up until 11:45 the next morning. So I race to the office (still in my pajamas, mind you) and make coffee and listen to five minutes of Cracker's new double-CD retrospective, Garage d'Or. When I call him (10 minutes late), I proceed to ask a series of the worst questions ever, almost completely unrelated to music and certainly unrelated to any of HIS music. The poor guy's dumbfounded, and at the end, he says, "I feel like we didn't talk about anything." I respond with a mix of bullshit, chutzpah, and fatigue: "Well, I wanted to do one of those non sequitur interviews." (Read: Music Bio Box.)
When I relayed this story to Brendon K. Crouser, my friend and confidante, he said, "You printed a full-length feature on the fucking Dandy Warhols, and you're putting David Lowery in a tiny Bio Box?" (See Bio Box, page 23)