Celebrity Run-In Stories

Just for fun, here’s the Leo Kottke interview from April 2007

When it comes to acoustic guitar players, virtuoso Leo Kottke falls into what novelist Spider Robinson calls “wizard-class talent.” But that’s not all. He’s also a composer, singer and raconteur. The Minnesota-based performer has released more than 30 albums of material since 1969, and has been called “the single greatest influence on finger-style guitarists.”
It’s no wonder that Garrison Keillor has made Kottke a frequent guest on his “Prairie Home Companion” weekly radio show, where his comfortable stage presence and dry wit fit perfectly.
Kottke is known for a style that borrows from many genres, including blues, pop, folk, and classical. He’s recorded with such diverse folks as Lyle Lovett, Los Lobos and Phish bassist Mike Gordon. And the titles of his many self-composed instrumentals bear quirky titles from “Vaseline Machine Gun” to “Accordian Bells” to “A Low Thud.”
Despite a famous self-deprecating reference to his voice in the liner notes on his first nationally-released album, Kottke has a voice perfectly suited to cover Tom T. Hall’s “Pamela Brown” and Paul Siebel’s haunting “Louise.”
The following is an e-mail interview with Kottke conducted Thursday.
Q: I’ve read that your first instrument was a trombone. Did you feel any connection with the instrument similar to what you obviously have with the guitar?
A: You’re the first person to ask that question… at last, a question I can answer. All I had with the trombone was appetite, but I didn’t know that, I didn’t know you could have a special relationship with your instrument. Jack Hannah had it with his trumpet, and I envied that, but it didn’t suggest to me that I might want to play the field and find mine: loved music, wanted to play, would have played anything. Luckily the guitar came along, a gift from my mom when I was sick; that toy guitar, plus an E chord, cured me.
Q: Have you ever returned to the trombone to check the shape of your lip?
A. Sure have, but it took decades. The horn, a Bach #10, is leaning against a bookcase back home. My lip is shot but the rest comes back quickly. My ear will always go to the trombone. Stravinsky wrote beautifully for the trombone.
Q: What was the first really cool guitar you owned? And how many do you have today?
A. A Gibson B-45 12-string. It was stolen in Portland when I was starting out. I’d come out to meet John Fahey and play a couple jobs. I still miss it, wonder about it, would strangle the thief with an E-string.
Q: For most of us, the first time we made your acquaintance was with the 6-and 12-String Guitar album. We were blown away. We didn’t even know it was possible for anyone to play like that. I never have figured out why there was an armadillo on the cover. Do you know?
A. I used to complain that there was one in the guitar (that’s the B-45, by the way.) It was partially finished with linseed oil and the stuff would make it sound “occupied” when the humidity was up. (Also, the armadillo has a weird zygote). The woman who illustrated the calendar at the coffeehouse I played then started using that armadillo to mark my dates.
Q: And while we’re at it, your description of your voice on the liner notes, that it sounded like “geese farts on a muggy day” had us in stitches. Are you afraid that’s going to show up in your obituary?
A. I know it will.
Q: And it’s not true, either. The stuff on Greenhouse — especially “Louise” and “From the Cradle to the Grave,” is plenty powerful. Are you sorry that they asked you to sing?
A. In the beginning all I did was singing. Then something happened. I’ll never know what. After that, all I wanted to do was play. Except for Louise, I sing songs for what they invite on the guitar.
Q: You’ve listed a number of influences over the years, including, Joe Pass, Pete Seeger and Jim Hall. Have you had a chance to play with any of them, and what was it like?
A: Yes, with Joe. It reminded me that I never did my homework. And it’s a great honor. Very humbling. I can tell you that Joe liked my right hand but he heard me play the piano and said “Don’t ever do that again!”
Q: Have you found additional influences as your career has moved ahead?
A: Anger will ruin your playing. Love can do the same. But the guitar itself is the leader. Detached, indifferent, patient.
Q: You play a lot of Bach. What is it that attracts you to his classical stuff instead of Mozart or Beethoven?
A: He’s the baroque. And every note means something. Every note. Wow. He’s also accessible to guitar. You can’t cover Beethoven’s Waldstein on guitar. Bach is not of the romantic or the classical, he has an absolute rightness that satisfies the deepest part of the intellect. When you listen to Bach you know what it’s like to be a lizard on a hot rock. Happy.
Q: When you do play another guitarist’s song like Jorma Kaukonen’s “Embryonic Journey” or John Fahey’s “The Last Steam Engine,” do you approach it differently than a vocal like Tom T. Hall’s “Pamela Brown” or Lindsey Buckingham’s “World Turning?”
A: No, some of them “let” you and some of them won’t.
Q: And when you write your own stuff, which comes first, the instrumental or the off-the-wall title?
A: Always the tune. I only come up with a title because I have to name the thing.
Q: OK, what’s Garrison Keilor really like?
A: You have to sit next to him when he takes off. That’s when you know him. I remember when he was talking about a vacuum cleaner and a picture window and discovered the meaning of “performance.”
Q: When you do Prairie Home Companion, do they just say “Bring five songs,” or do they request certain tunes? And do you do a dress rehearsal of the show, or just show up and do your stuff ?
A: I liked it better when everybody stayed on stage. Now you come and go and kind of lose the feel. They never tell you what to play in your own segments, but Garrison will get some bright ideas… and there will be no escape. For some shows there’s a run-through the night before.
Q: After working with such diverse artists as John Fahey, Lyle Lovett, Los Lobos, Jonathan Winters(!) former Prince side-man David Z., and Phish bassist Mike Gordon, is there anybody out there you’re hankering to jam with?
A: Fiona Apple.
Q: Anything I haven’t asked that you’d like to answer?
A: Sushi.
Q: Cool. Thank you very much.
A: Likewise.

Lots of stories.

One that I like to tell my students, and is totally true:

I was in the elevator going up to the legal department at the movie studio in Culver City, CA…at the time, it was on the 8th floor, the same floor as casting.

OK, I am Gay so of course I noticed the really good looking kid in the elevator holding his script. It was just the two of us in the elevator.

“Going to audition?” I said.
“Yeah.”
I saw the script and recognized the title and said, “I hear it is supposed to be good.”
“Yeah, it really is. I hope I get the part!”
“Good luck…”
“Thanks!” he said, and I still remember that smile and hope in his eyes.
I also took another glance as he walked down the hall…damn was he cute.

Well, he got the part.
It was to play the young stud in Thelma and Louise.
The “kid’s” name was Brad Pitt.

I like to say I literally met him “on the way up.”

When I was small–7 or 8–and living in California I had a really good friend whose mother was best friends with Marlon Brando’s mom back in Nebraska, and now that she was in California, her good friend’s little boy sometimes dropped in to say Hi.

So we went an afternoon giggling and hiding in the hedge and watching MARLON BRANDO drink ice tea with her mom. We knew he was famous and we thought he was kind of cute. As he was leaving he saw my friend and tousled her hair before he got into his car (it was green). Ooooh, he touched her! It was very exciting.

In the 70s a friend of mine was working to get a guy elected gov (PS, he won) and Robert Redford was also doing some campaigning for him…or something. My friend had a small plane and one day he invited me out to the airport for a flight, but really it was to impress me with Robert Redford. He said, “Hey, I’d like you to meet Bob,” and I stuck out my hand and got my “Pleeztameetcha” ready in my mouth, and then he went on, “Bob Redford.” I still managed to say Pleeztameetcha but it took a few seconds longer to get it out. He didn’t look anything like the movie star (for one thing, he was shorter). I kept thinking this was not really the famous guy and my friend was whooshing me, but he wasn’t.

I also once really disgraced myself at a party when I went up to this famous guy and said, “Don’t I know you from somewhere, you look really familiar…” Well, duh. It didn’t dawn on me for a couple of minutes. Once he realized I really was that clueless, he was kind of amused.