The Hour With George Stroumboulopoulos
I got bumped by David Foster.
Well, not exactly. You see I was supposed to tape "The Hour" yesterday at four. But mere hours before I was supposed to leave L.A. I got a message, could I come EARLIER? Like TWO?
Well, I had a lunch that had been planned for weeks. And it’s hard to schedule a lunch around two. Twelve is not early enough, and who eats lunch in the late afternoon?
No.
I think that surprised them. But never forget, television is about leverage. And he who needs the least wins. I mean do I need to be on late night Canadian television? I mean I WANT to be on late night Canadian television, but it’s not my one big break.
We negotiated. That’s when I found out I was being bumped for Foster. Not only until earlier in the day, but all the way to next week. He now had my slot, my segment was going to air next week. They could tape my spot at…3:30? On the dot. Could I be there at 3:10? Well, I told them I’d be there by 3:20. I find the less waiting around the better, you don’t want to get cold, you don’t want to get stale.
So, Barbara and I found ourselves high in the CBC building just shy of the appointed hour. Whereupon I went to the bathroom, I always like to compete at my playing weight.
Upon emerging, I was immediately escorted to makeup. I made a joke about not wanting to look like Nixon in 1960 and the woman with the powder IMMEDIATELY GOT IT! That’s Canada, everybody’s more knowledgeable than in America, they get the JOKES!
And while I’m riffing with this woman, George himself comes in. And seems to genuinely know who I am. Which always surprises me. But I guess that’s the power of the Internet.
George used to be a VJ on MuchMusic, Canada’s MTV. And he’s graduated to this hour-long news/talk show four nights a week, eclipsing the career arc of Carson Daly. Hell, George is on the air EARLIER!
And George starts talking L.A. with me. How he spends the summer in my town. And after I say he must feel like Robbie Williams, unrecognized in the City of Angels but famous back home, and we discuss his bike trips back and forth to T.O., George exits, the cape comes off of me, and I stride into the studio.
TV studios are so cool. They’re fake rooms in warehouses. In a matter of minutes, they could DISAPPEAR!
And there are the orange chairs. And an AUDIENCE! Which CLAPPED! Weird to be up there.
And the powers-that-be seemed to be worried that I wasn’t going to be au courant enough, that I wasn’t going to be able to hold my own. So maybe I made up for this by talking at light speed, by barely letting George get a word in edgewise.
There was enough room to stretch out, seemingly nearing fifteen minutes, and then I was done.
And you always wonder how you were. I got the usual positive plaudits and then a producer came up to discuss what George and I meant when we talked about GOOD music. And then another member of the team wanted to know if what Roger Waters had said on Charlie Rose was true, that the new technology employed by Pink Floyd accounted for the band’s continued success.
I told him this was bullshit. That rock stars were removed from reality.
And then they brought in a whole new studio audience, and started the show from the top. I felt it would be cooler to split, but Barbara wanted to hear what Foster had to say, and so did I…
And we’re behind the cranes, I watched a bit on the monitor to my side, and then Foster was done and it was time to split.
But first I needed a stop at the bathroom.
And when I come out of the bathroom, who’s striding towards me, alone, but the man himself.
I never speak to anybody unless introduced, it freaks them out. Who the fuck are YOU?
But Foster had called me on the phone. Albeit a year ago, to discuss Green Day’s "American Idiot" amongst other things I’d written, so…maybe?
And when we meet, I tentatively say "You called me on the phone…"
And I won’t say Foster ignored me, but it wasn’t like he was opening up. And then, after pausing a bit, David asked "And your name is..?"
And I tell him and it’s like we’re old buddies, classmates who haven’t seen each other in decades. He throws me into a bear hug and starts yelling "Erin! ERIN!"
Foster’s got his arm around me, escorting me briskly back into the main area to introduce me to his daughter, who turned him on to me.
And then David’s introducing me to everybody in his posse. And the "Hour" employees are scattered on the periphery with their jaws dropped. They can’t believe the hubbub. The guy they bounced, Foster’s treating him like he’s a bigger star than HIMSELF!
And by this time I’M getting embarrassed, worried I can’t live up to the expectations.
And Foster’s saying how he just met with Clive, and was wondering whether to bring up what I’d written about him, being bigger than the legend, but David felt he must have already read it.
And now we’re by the elevators. And I’m a member of the posse. And I tell Foster I loved his work on the "Completion Backwards Principle" and when we finally hit the first floor, Barbara and I scoot off. Hell, I’m a guy who works out of his house, all this attention, all this adulation, it’s FREAKING ME OUT!
