It has been said “never meet your hero’s. They will only disappoint you”. Well, I have a silly little story about a silly little hero who turned out to be a really big let down. When I was 19 years old and living in NYC I picked up a copy of the Village Voice and discovered that Lisa Loeb (yes, that Lisa Loeb) would be signing her now album Cake & Pie as well as doing a short tutorial on pie baking at Tower Records. Instantly my little heart was aflutter. In my youth in New Mexico I had spent many drama filled nights hitting the walls of my small town as I bounced from one side of the valley to the next singing my heart out to “Furious Rose”, “I Do”, and of course “Stay”. Lisa’s songs did for me what songs are supposed to do for people; they burrowed into my little heart and took on a life of their own, as a soundtrack to my teen years. Now maybe I’m too much of a loyalist here, but once an artist has won my favor I am hard pressed to turn my back on them. As a true audiophile I tend to feel as though no collection is complete without a thorough catalogue of one’s favorite artist (of which I have too many to count).
On the night of Lisa’s signing at Tower I got dressed up and drug my then boyfriend down to Tower to stand in line outside waiting with my heart in my throat. Typically this is the enthusiasm most people would reserve for meeting a big name talent like Bono or Madonna, but no, the object of my foolish giddiness was a one hit wonder 90’s icon who’s physical persona instilled in me a lifetime affection for “nerdy-sheik”. When the doors were opened and we all began to file in for her performance/bake-off I grew increasingly nervous and by the time I was ushered before her with my trembling hands holding open my copy of her new CD I had grown quiet as a mouse except for the heartbeat pounding in my ears. After signing my CD she reached to sign a copy for my then boyfriend and noticed his jacket bore the name of the airline she had flown with to New York. A conversation ensued between to the two of them and in my eagerness to say something “cool” I shouted “Oh, he’s my boyfriend. This is my boyfriend”. It was then that I first encountered what I have now come to recognize as the “Lisa cold stare”. The look is somewhere between annoyed and disinterested and has the stinging quality of making one feel about one inch high and nearly offensive. “Oh...” came the slow reply “um, good for you”. Leaving Tower I felt mortified. I don’t know what I was expecting but this certainly wasn’t it. Did I think Lisa would say “hey you look like a cool kid! Lets go out for coffee”?! No. Of course not. I think what I expected however was that someone I had come to enjoy and spend my money to support would be able to make eye contact with me as though I were a human being and not a pest or the type of “fan” which must be suffered at such an event.
I remember long ago listening to an interview with Ani DiFranco where she discusses the way the intimacy of her music causes fan’s to feel as though they know her personally. She mentioned how strange this makes meeting fan’s because they come forth knowing so much about you but with you knowing nothing of them. Now, Loeb’s music is nowhere near as confessional or deeply emoting as Ani’s, and I would not say that I feel “personal” with Lisa Loeb. I can understand how it may seem overwhelming as fan’s come forward. I feel though that this kind of event is a two way street and I would appreciate if celebrities (no matter how minor) could respect that even if a crowed of well wishers in exhausting and full of unfamiliar faces, these folks come forward because to them, you are an old friend. One who’s voice has gotten them through tough times or given poetry when their own vocabularies failed to articulate the gravity of a situation. And they will turn out for you years past your prime and suffer through a sad plug for your new eye wear collection in order to hear you sing. I never wanted to meet Lisa Loeb because I thought she was the end-all be-all of music. Far from it! My desire came from a simple wish to stand before an artist who’s creations had moved me and say thanks.
Now, here I am, years later and on the verge of turning 30. A friend invites me to see Lisa perform a short set at a small bar in Dallas, TX where she is presenting her new eye wear collection. Of course, I jumped at the chance and feeling slightly less giddy than my 19 year old self but none-the-less thrilled, we headed to the show. After a couple of songs had passed Lisa asked for requests and I shouted “Truthfully” which had always been a favorite of mine. After a few bars, she stopped and said that she couldn’t remember the way the song went and that she had been distracted by familiar faces in the crowed. Then she looked at me. Lisa looked at me! Trust me, no one knows more than I do how ridiculous this sounds but having neurotically lived with the moment of my past Lisa-shame for 10 years, I felt once again very nervous. I sang back the next few lines to her, instructing her on. The words I sang however didn’t sound right to her, and pulling back to the microphone she finished out a rather butchered version of her own tune. No problem. I clapped my little heart out still pleased. Call me silly, but it means something to me that an artist I admire would have an interaction with me. No matter how botched it may have been. Following the show I did my best to contain my excitement as my friend Danny and I made our way to her vicinity. I stood patiently by waiting for an opportunity to say hello and Danny, trying to help a nervous friend out, touched her arm and said “Hi. My friend loves you but he is too nervous to meet you”. And there it was...again...years latter...same as it ever was...the “Lisa cold stare”....
She looked, nodded, “uh-hu”, and turned away. Crushed! Second time...speechless....
Now, maybe I am that asshole who screwed up her set by requesting a song she forgot the words to. Maybe she was simply embarrassed. Or maybe, maybe,...
Maybe its time I stop guessing why our hero’s don’t turn out to be who we expect them to be. Maybe it’s time to stop beating myself up for the fact that someone who’s art I have given time, money, and emotion to supporting turned out to simply not be worth it. And in truth, isn’t this a lesson we all learn the hard way time and time again in relationships throughout our lives? So tonight, as I write this and am reminded that somewhere inside of me is still that dramatic little teenager hitting the city limit signs of his home town knowing full well one day those signs wont be an indication to turn around, but instead to keep on going, I put on my copy of “Tales” one last time and listen to Lisa ask me to “Stay”. And once its done I will have to say “I’m sorry Lisa. I think that this time...I have to go”.
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