michaeldayers.com

For this year’s Village Voice critics poll, I wrote this essay on Miranda Lambert. Lambert was really sweet on the phone; I spoke with her before a gig she was to do in Louisiana later in the day. I wasn’t so sweet; I was that dorky kid in high school, who just so happened to be paired up with the blonde bombshell for a science project. You have to work with her, and you have to approach her; both have goals to get in this and out of this, as quick as possible.

And that this happened, was weird, as I typically don’t get too nervous when talking to musicians. But I’d been in full on obsession mode over Crazy Ex-Girlfriend at the time, the interview wasn’t as cool and collective as I’d like to remember it being.

I stuttered, without having a stuttering problem. I talked about TV, and tried to relate a fictional show (Friday Night Lights) to her music. She doesn’t watch TV she told me, which I prompted me to slap my forehead (figuratively).

Of course she doesn’t watch TV, I remember thinking. She’s a musician of great magnitude who has to tour and do radio shows and country fairs.

Alas, it wasn’t one of my finer moments, but even through the phone wires, I didn’t detect any eye rollin’.

Horn Tooting, Sweet Jams