I went to Sydney last week to interview David Grohl from the Foo Fighters. I was so excited. He's a hero of mine. But he made me feel like a real a-hole.
Not because he was mean or arrogant. The complete opposite. This guy is the biggest rock star in the world. He's worth $300 million. He's released nine wildly successful albums in his current band. He's considered one of the best drummers in the world. He's sold out every massive stadium on planet earth.
He has every reason to be a dick to the last interviewers after a long day of interviews. But he wasn't, he was nice. Generous with his time and answers. If I was him I would be horrible. Impatient. Precious. Demanding. You probably would be too. But not Dave. He's a genuinely good guy. Which is part of the reason he is so successful and loved. People who meet him rush home to write humiliatingly gushing rubbish like this about him.
Wednesday arvo at the InterContinental Double Jeremy Wells and I were led to an adjacent hotel room to the one in which the IV would take place. It was great because we could hear the other interviewers' questions which we stole. It wasn't great when we heard Dave say to his people: "Please tell me that was the last interview, my ass hurts, please, no more." It was a demoralising moment for a couple of dudes who had flown all the way from Auckland for 15 minutes of fame with Grohl.
There we were sitting waiting like a couple of idiots with our highly offensive sexual gift for the great man. Then it all got better again. Dave realised we had heard him saying he couldn't be bothered doing our interview. He apologised profusely. He looked mortified. He genuinely cared that he might have hurt the feelings of a couple of bottom-feeder radio punishers from New Zealand.