Working Saturdays means I usually get Monday off, but this week, I was more than happy to make an exception in order to host a session with Cody ChesnuTT (you’ll know him from The Roots’ ‘The Seed 2.0’).
Dropping into work to pick up my gear, I get a call from Cody’s tour manager. An early flight to Wellington left Cody with a sore throat. He says the session’s off.
Disappointed, but thankful to leave the heavy mic stands behind, I wander up to soundcheck at Bar Bodega, wondering whether I can trick Cody into singing at least a bar of my favourite song from his last record for me.
His manager wasn’t wrong. Cody looks exhausted, and is drinking a thick lemon, honey, ginger concoction.
I introduce myself, shake his hand – which he’s reluctant to do, as it’s sticky with honey – and I remind him that we talked on the phone last year about Landing On A Hundred, his first album in a decade.
He shares his fuzzy memories of being in New Zealand last time, and tells of the importance of looking after his voice. Then, sneakily trying to trick him into singing for me, I compliment him on his melodies, particularly ‘Don’t Follow Me’, which I confess to singing in the shower.
His face brightens.
Cue Cody breaking into song, exclusively for Music 101?
Not quite.
“Would you sing it for me?”
Welcome to the backfire of all backfires.
“Uh...”
I warble my way through a couple of bars, eyes shut tightly, feeling not only for his immediate torture, but that of our radio audience – how am I going to cut this interview without coming across as a self-obsessed X Factor reject?
“You're with Music 101 on Radio New Zealand National, I’m Emma Smith, and, in lieu of Cody ChesnuTT, I’ll just give it a whirl, eh? And a one and a two...”
I’m no Jimmy Fallon. Or even Garrison Keillor. And that’s just fine with me.
I finish the phrase and wince at him, though he seems surprisingly touched by the whole odd exchange, which, it turns out it is a great jumping-off point to talk about songwriting.
Confessing my unorthodox approach to Music 101 senior producer Sam Wicks later, he suggests that it’s pretty rare to have something close to an equal exchange with your interviewees – usually, we just grill them.
I wonder if that’s why Nardwuar always gets such great material from his guests – because he gives them things.
At Puppies later that night, I’m trying to make an impossible calculation: At what point do I leave the first gig, in order to catch a satisfying amount of the second.
Missing the first three songs of Cody ChesnuTT seemed a fair price to pay for 40 minutes of Lightning Bolt, but as Cody and his band wind up, it’s clear that ‘Don’t Follow Me’ was over before I arrived.
And then, as the stomping and chanting for an encore grows, I hear a familiar groove. Cody’s coming back to play it!
“It’s been an incredible day,” he tells us, “and I met a journalist who had really done her research...”
Really? A dedication! Awesome!
Cody's message to Emma. Photo: Unknown
“Emma, are you here tonight? Come on up.”
My plan, it seems, hadn’t finished backfiring.
On stage it’s all bright lights, sweat and cheering. I’m ushered to a microphone. His microphone.
“You’ve gotta help me with this, Cody,” I plead. I’m not supposed to be here. I can’t sing. I don’t know the words.
As he steps back, I clamp my hand hard over my eyes. But even in the momentary safety of total darkness, the band eggs me on with that looping groove.
I hum. They stop, leaving me to sing the first few words unaccompanied.
Eyes still firmly shut, praying for reverb, or some other force, to swallow me up, I begin…
