A Moment In Time With Leslie West
Posted: Thu Oct 16, 2008 10:13 pm
My first assignment for Premier Guitar was an interview with Leslie West earlier this year. I have been a fan of Leslie's since his days in The Vagrants, going back to 1967, and although I had seen him live many times with Mountain and solo, I had never met him. I knew he had a reputation as being a bit rude, crude and difficult, but I was confident I could handle it. So, I went to BB King's in Manhattan the night before the Super Bowl, to see Mountain, meet Leslie, and conduct an interview.
Flashing my backstage pass, I was admitted and directed to Leslie's dressing room, which was filled with wellwishers and fans. Leslie was dressed in blue jeans and a shirt, with a fur vest that made him look like Sonny Bono, circa 1965. I approached the man and shook his hand, introduced myself and asked him if he was ready to do the interview.
The first words out of Leslie's mouth were, "Did you bring a tape recorder?"
"Yes, I did."
Jeez, not even a hello?
"Well, I just had an operation my eye the other day and I really don't feel like doing this before the show. Can you come back in after our set?"
I replied that was no problem and I would see him after he was finished.
While waiting to get backstage after the show, I was making what I thought was innocent small talk with some New Yawker with an bad attitude who misinterpreted something I said and tried to pick a fight, which I avoided. Lovely. This guy was a real douche bag. If you're reading, go F yourself, you creep.
When I finally got with Leslie, he said, "Oh man, I'm too tired now. Call me at home. Here's my cell number. Call me in a few days. I gotta decompress."
What followed was a comedy of errors insofar as reaching Leslie. I must have called and arranged the interview four times, only to be stymied every time I called. Finally, he said to me, "Bob, it doesn't say "Premier Guitar" on the business card you gave me. How do I know you're really with the magazine?"
"I just joined the staff as a freelancer. Those cards were printed a year ago."
"OK, call me back tomorrow at 1:00. We'll do it then."
Next day, I called. Answering machine.
Finally, a few days later, I got Leslie on the phone.
"Alright Leslie, this is it. I have a deadline to meet and we're both here on the phone. Let's do it, OK? Let's get this sucker done."
I figured I might as well adopt the streetwise attitude Leslie exhibited. It worked.
"OK, ask me whatever you want. How long is this going to take?"
So, I did the interview on my cell phone, with my earpiece, it the front seat of my car, in a parking lot in a shopping center in Wayne, NJ. Leslie was hesitant at first, but as we talked, he opened up and gave me exactly what I needed for an effective article.
When the magazine hit the stands, Leslie emailed me; "Bob...Good job with the article. I appreciate your accuracy....Leslie"
It's emails like that that make my job as a music journalist worthwhile. Leslie even liked the pictures I took of him during his set.
Flashing my backstage pass, I was admitted and directed to Leslie's dressing room, which was filled with wellwishers and fans. Leslie was dressed in blue jeans and a shirt, with a fur vest that made him look like Sonny Bono, circa 1965. I approached the man and shook his hand, introduced myself and asked him if he was ready to do the interview.
The first words out of Leslie's mouth were, "Did you bring a tape recorder?"
"Yes, I did."
Jeez, not even a hello?
"Well, I just had an operation my eye the other day and I really don't feel like doing this before the show. Can you come back in after our set?"
I replied that was no problem and I would see him after he was finished.
While waiting to get backstage after the show, I was making what I thought was innocent small talk with some New Yawker with an bad attitude who misinterpreted something I said and tried to pick a fight, which I avoided. Lovely. This guy was a real douche bag. If you're reading, go F yourself, you creep.
When I finally got with Leslie, he said, "Oh man, I'm too tired now. Call me at home. Here's my cell number. Call me in a few days. I gotta decompress."
What followed was a comedy of errors insofar as reaching Leslie. I must have called and arranged the interview four times, only to be stymied every time I called. Finally, he said to me, "Bob, it doesn't say "Premier Guitar" on the business card you gave me. How do I know you're really with the magazine?"
"I just joined the staff as a freelancer. Those cards were printed a year ago."
"OK, call me back tomorrow at 1:00. We'll do it then."
Next day, I called. Answering machine.
Finally, a few days later, I got Leslie on the phone.
"Alright Leslie, this is it. I have a deadline to meet and we're both here on the phone. Let's do it, OK? Let's get this sucker done."
I figured I might as well adopt the streetwise attitude Leslie exhibited. It worked.
"OK, ask me whatever you want. How long is this going to take?"
So, I did the interview on my cell phone, with my earpiece, it the front seat of my car, in a parking lot in a shopping center in Wayne, NJ. Leslie was hesitant at first, but as we talked, he opened up and gave me exactly what I needed for an effective article.
When the magazine hit the stands, Leslie emailed me; "Bob...Good job with the article. I appreciate your accuracy....Leslie"
It's emails like that that make my job as a music journalist worthwhile. Leslie even liked the pictures I took of him during his set.
). What a showman! What an awesome Guitar God! Maybe he didn't have the charisma of some lesser talents who surpassed him in the charts.
