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McGinn: 10 years of shows, interviews and bugging people

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McGinn
McGinn
Little Richard goofs off during a 2005 concert at Kuss Auditorium, one of the worst shows witnessed by modern man.
Bill Lackey Little Richard goofs off during a 2005 concert at Kuss Auditorium, one of the worst shows witnessed by modern man.

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By Andrew McGinn, Staff Writer Updated 3:06 PM Friday, December 11, 2009

I think I’ve always known that I’m a bit, uh, different.

Strange. Weird. Eccentric. Kooky. All together ooky.

But in thinking back about my first 10 years at the News-Sun, I’ve worried my co-workers on more than one occasion — but never more than the time in 2006 when chief photographer Marshall Gorby and I were sent out to Los Angeles to cover John Legend’s first trek to the Grammys.

There we were, waiting to be let into the Sony after-party at the Roosevelt Hotel on Hollywood Boulevard, where Legend and his family were celebrating, when a host of celebrities passed before us.

Within maybe three feet of us walked Jennifer Love Hewitt.

Marshall was excited.

I was unfazed — until an elderly gentleman shuffled by.

“Holy crap,” I exclaimed, “we’re at a party with Burt Bacharach!”

Marshall thought I was crazy.

It’s just one good memory from, really, a decade of them.

Fresh from college, I arrived in Springfield in December 1999 with low self-esteem and an acidic brand of sarcasm.

Not a good combination for making friends.

As much as my life revolves around music, movies and comics, I’m a lousy candidate for an entertainment reporter because I hate nightlife.

If I leave work at 5:30, I’m in my pajamas by 6:15.

It’s more of a Brian Wilson thing than Hugh Hefner.

But in 10 years, I’ve seen some great shows locally — and some bad ones. I’ve talked to some incredible people along the way, and some real jerks, too.

Let’s talk specifics.

Best show: I haven’t seen them all, but a few stick in my head.

• Seeing B.B. King, one of the last true bluesmen, in Kuss Auditorium in 2004, was to be in the presence of greatness.

• In 2006, King Crimson guitarist Adrian Belew put on one of the best (and, no surprise, worst attended) shows I’ve seen at the Summer Arts Festival.

• I love country music, and I hate country music. In 2006 at Kuss, Marty Stuart played the kind of country music I love — steeped in backwoods gospel and brimming with hot Telecaster licks. No wonder country radio doesn’t play him anymore.

Best show seen by nobody else: On a Wednesday night in 2006, I saw a Kiss tribute band from L.A. called Kiss Army at G.Z. Pete’s. It was me and, like, 11 other people.

It didn’t deter the band. They drooled blood and everything.

I wrote back then, “When Gene blew fire for us at the end of ‘Firehouse,’ it was like having Kiss come play in your backyard.”

Best $3 I’ve ever spent.

Worst show: Little Richard, 2005, Kuss Auditorium.

I wrote at the time, “The Little Richard who showed up here was the ‘Hollywood Squares’ Little Richard — the camped-out eccentric in a crazy mullet wig who commands the audience to ‘shut up’ and waits for the giggles to subside before doing it again. And again.”

The man is a legend, but his show was a waste of time.

Best interview: Well, in 2006, I sat for two hours over cheeseburgers at Mela with Stan Lee.

Stan is, now and forever, The Man.

He didn’t even look annoyed when I asked him, for probably the 5,987th time, how he thought to turn the pagan god Thor into a superhero. Genius.

Worst interview: Oh, hands down, Alice Walker, the author of “The Color Purple” who doesn’t like to talk about, well, “The Color Purple.”

Coolest interview that I was shocked it actually happened: I’m a big Beach Boys fan, and I come by it honestly. My mom once got Carl Wilson’s autograph (wish she still had it) back when they wore the striped shirts.

In 2004, I managed to get a promo copy of Brian Wilson’s “Smile” album, and asked if I could get on his interview schedule, fully expecting the publicist to rebuff this absurd request from some peon in some place in Ohio.

When he called, I was so nervous, I could barely move my hand to write.

My favorite subject: I’ve devoted more column space to actor/singer Kenny Miller than anyone else.

A 1949 graduate of Springfield High, he’s been a part of the things I love most — monster movies (he was in “I Was a Teenage Werewolf”) and British Invasion music (in 1965, he cut some sides in London with Kinks producer Shel Talmy).

He even dated Jackie DeShannon.

Whenever he’s in town, we try to get together. Usually, I spend the next hour or two asking him stuff like, “Ever met Vincent Price?! Adam West?!” It goes on and on.

The world’s nicest — and most patient — man.

Dumbest thing I’ve written: I’ve written some stupid things, but my review of Rosemary Clooney’s Kuss show in 2000, I’ll now admit, was scary stupid.

I wrote that she “hobbled from the wings” — that she was propped “against a piano.”

And the kicker? I called her a “grizzled singer who’s lucky to still have a pulse.”

Then I couldn’t figure out why people called to complain.

It was a “mixed review,” I argued.

Contact this reporter at (937) 328-0352 or amcginn@coxohio.com.

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