At least that’s what Kevin Smith called it.  The inaugural Starfucking Smodcast, with Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman.

What does it take to make it?

Tons of effort.  And a dream.

Kevin Smith is such a good interviewer, he makes me feel inadequate.  Not only can he ask the questions we want the answers to, he can fill the pauses with little fillips of insight, gems that satiate your taste buds while you wait for the next response.

Kevin wanted history.

Actually, he pulled up Amanda and Neil’s Wikipedia entries and they reviewed them for accuracy.  That’s a conundrum, Wikipedia is now the go-to site for background information, but it’s so often wrong.  Until recently, my entry said I had kids and it still references a wife.  I’ve never had offspring and haven’t been married in this century, but I seem to be the only one who knows.

That’s one of the reasons Smith started the Smodcast.  He was frustrated at the response re the Southwest incident, where he was labeled as being too fat to fly.  That wasn’t the story, but that’s what the media said.  So Kevin retreated into his own little world, with his own not so little audience.  He’s not making movies anymore for you, but for his fans, who he can count on.  Listen to this podcast, #5, "THE EPIXHD TOO FAT FOR FORTY SMODCASTLE PRESS SCRUM" it explains his philosophy.

So we found out Amanda comes from a broken home and she wrote one of the Dresden Dolls’ most noted numbers, "Half Jack", for her real father.  Who heard it live in D.C. for the first time.  And her mother was pissed she didn’t write a song about her.

Even better was her parents complaining that she was banging on the piano too much in the basement.  Quite the antidote to those stage parents pushing their progeny into showbiz.

The stories were flying fast and furious.  How Amanda was a living statue for four years.  Kevin asked what I wanted to know, could she make a living at it?  Amanda said she made more than all her friends, on a good day $450.  Wow!

And she met Brian, the Dresden Dolls’ drummer, at a party in her house where she was performing at the piano, something that had taken her years to feel comfortable doing in public, and they started the band.  Did they have a relationship?  OF COURSE!  They slept together, made music, and made love.  They were two halves of the same being, they were never apart.

Whereas Neil was more isolated.  He was the guy with the book.  His parents would pat him down before a Bar Mitzvah, not only looking for the book, but the hidden spare.  He’ll take a book to the bar.  He resorted to reading the newspaper upon being introduced to Amanda’s father at dinner, the aforementioned Jack.

But both Amanda and Neil had a dream, from a very young age.

Amanda wanted to be a rock star.

Neil had a list, comprised of being a comic author and so much more.  His mother said it was nice, and now he’s done it all.

And now the two of them, Amanda and Neil, are traipsing around the world in love.

The Smodcastle only holds a hundred people.  And it was packed to the rafters with those paying a hundred dollars to get in.  You see modern entertainment is quite narrow.  A core of fans will pay seemingly unlimited amounts to be close to their heroes.

Like those people who paid $1000 for the special package of Amanda’s ukulele Radiohead covers.  She made a hundred grand.  God, there are people on the pop chart who haven’t netted a hundred grand.

But she’s doing it all by her lonesome.

Well, not really.  She’s got a full time Webmaster/tech guru, Sean.  They’re constantly trying new ideas.  Asking the audience what it wants.  Taking risks.  All of this anathema to the machine which Amanda played victim to in her previous incarnation as a major label recording artist.  Major labels want to play it safe.  They want insurance.  Risk is forbidden.  And the concept of asking the fans…  Did you see that piece on L.A. Reid in the latest "Entertainment Weekly"?  He thinks he’s the new Clive. He thinks he knows.  That’s not true, the artist knows!  And a modern artist is in touch with his fans, it’s a symbiotic relationship.  All those old middlemen, radio and TV and print…they don’t care about artists, they just need grist for the mill.

And Neil Gaiman barely flies on my radar.  I don’t read comic books and I didn’t see "Coraline".  But I know he’s a god in his world.  Which was reinforced when he and Kevin told tales of Comic-Con.  That’s the modern world.  It’s not about making it in someone else’s sphere, it’s not about being anointed by those who don’t care, but by those who do.

Not that Neil hasn’t won awards.

And he told tales…

His first book was about Duran Duran.  Written from press clippings acquired from the BBC.  It was a huge hit.  He planned how to spend his earnings.  But in two weeks, the publisher went bankrupt and he didn’t get paid.  And he didn’t do anything for the money ever again.

That was the mantra of the evening.  Life was too short to do that which you did not love.  And Neil even went on to say that that which he’d done for free, expecting no dough, ultimately paid dividends years later!

And there were tales of the movie business.  Making a deal and being flown to the Mediterranean for a weekend of sailing where the crew included…Simon LeBon.  Like Neil said, as soon as you get involved in the movies, life becomes surreal. Days went by, Simon and Neil bonding, finally he couldn’t handle it anymore, he told Simon he’d written that book…  Turns out Duran Duran loved it!

And Kevin told his stories too.  About being infatuated with Batman and making up calling cards with the logo and putting one on the windshield of his beloved and writing upon it that she should look up, to where he was standing in a trench coat atop the pharmacy where she was employed!

Kevin labeled Amanda an art chick.

But all three of these characters were art chicks.  Following their muse.

And yes, Amanda realized she could never be a pop star.  But she’s happy in her niche.  And the estrogen in the audience was happy with her.  Kevin had never seen so many women in the Smodcastle.

I’ve seen a million interviews.  Live and on TV.  The subject is promoting something, and certain topics are taboo, and truth rarely comes out.  Kevin’s only interested in the truth.  He extracts it.  And one got more insight into the struggle to be an artist last night at the Smodcastle than at any panel at any music conference ever.

You see it’s about the people.  They’re a special breed.  And those who last are not about the money, because it’s too hard for it to only be about the money.  They were always a little bit off, always living in an alternative reality in their heads.  And it’s only when they laid this down that they found out huge swaths of people identified.

Come on, how many of you have been surrounded by bodacious bods as you run around in $100,000 worth of steel? Whereas you know heartbreak, and anxiety…  Neil was inspired by twins he saw on the train every day who he never spoke to.  Now that’s life!

Kevin said it’s gonna be a regular series, Starfucking.  We’ll see what comes next.  Meantime, when this podcast goes live, I’d check it out.  Even if you’re not a fan of any of these people.  The conversation just oozed with humanity, about life with excitements and dead ends, triumphs and losses.  We’re all trying to get along.  And it’s art that keeps us going.  Imperfect people telling imperfect stories.  Those we can relate to.  Shiny is for Hollywood.  Shiny is a force field that you just can’t penetrate, which is why so many are rejecting the mainstream and digging down into the niches, because burrowed beneath the bullshit is where the real people live.