From: ckline@aol.com (ckline)
Newsgroups: alt.bitterness
Subject: hero
Date: Mon, 03 Jul 1995 05:59:40 -0800

   His mom answered the door, I didn't know that at the time, I thought I
was at the wrong house. Why would one of the members of one of Punkıs best
bands live at home with his mother?  I asked if Grant was there, she said
yes, but she thought he was sleeping, did he know I was coming over? I
told her no, I was there to do an interview with him, so she went and got
him up. Ten minutes later Grant Hart walked out, shook my hand, and
invited me to sit down while he went and got himself a cup of coffee. As
he left, Grant's mother came into the room and offered me something to
drink, and eat, I politely declined, sat and waited. Fifteen minutes later
Grant reappeared holding a delicate cup of coffee and smoking a cigarette.
I had talked to him twice on the phone, but now I was sitting there
talking to half of the creative force behind Husker Du. Yeah sure the band
might mean nothing to you, but if you listen to anything that is now named
"alternative", "modern", or "progressive", they most likely have listened
to Husker Du, and more likely been influenced by them. They were one of
the first independent bands to sign to a major label, way before Sonic
Youth or Nirvana did. The band broke up in 1987 after a break down in
communication between Grant and the other songwriter Bob Mould, and the
suicide of the bands manager, Grantıs heroin addiction, and Bobıs
sobriety. Too many things at once, "too much rope, and not enough dope.'
as one of their songs said.
   Husker Du meant a lot to me, I had followed Bob and Grantıs careers
since I first heard Husker Du, a year a after they broke up. I can tell
you almost anything about either one of them, I am obsessive about only
this band. This is the one band that I will buy any bootleg for, any
anything that has to do with them, but this is getting lost, I meant to
write about meeting my hero. Grant was one of my heroes, and on a trip
across the US, during my stay over in Minneapolis, I set up an interview
with him for the magazine that I was working for.  We sat in his living
room, he explained to me about his new band, intricacies of Husker, his
current relationship with Bob Mould (non existent, but still concerned
with what Bob thought of him), Grantıs solo career, and all of the other
goofy things that you ask when you interview a musician.  After talking
for a couple hours Grant told me that he had to go get something from a
friend, and so we left his parents house, that he told me he was living at
because his dad was laid off, and now Grant paid the mortgage, thus
helping his parents and providing shelter for himself. 
   The friend was his dealer; what he did was went to score. After we left
the house we then went to a gas station, where Grant went into the
bathroom and disappeared for half an hour, then finally wandered out
looking a little further away then he did when he went out. I guess I had
shown the fact that I was a fan of his, and to me it seemed that Grant was
counting on the fact that I wouldnıt out it in writing that he had shot up
heroin while we were together, he was right, I didnıt include it in the
article. He got into the car looked at me for a while, and then we drove
off to go look at his paintings that were stored in a friends record
store, from there we went to another friends house, sat in the basement,
talked about old records, new plans, and various other things. Later I
drove Grant to practice with his new band; he smoked in my car. I have
never allowed anyone to do that, will never allow anyone to do that again,
but I couldn't say no to him, I had no control.  He was my hero, and I let
him smoke in my car.
   So we went to their rehearsal studio, I watched Grant and his band play
for an hour, we took a couple more photos, and I said good bye, Grant
walked me to my car, put his arm around my shoulder said he had a nice
day, gave me a zine that his brother wrote, then leaned real close to me,
like he was going to kiss me. I looked away, somehow I was too nervous and
too straight to kiss him. maybe I should have, hell, I let him smoke in my
car, but I couldnıt kiss him. he waited there for a little bit, five
seconds maybe, but it seemed like an hour. He then backed away, shook my
hand. I said thanks, asked for directions to get back to where I was
staying; Grant just pointed to the freeway. I left with all sorts of
thoughts swimming in my head. I never told anyone that Grant tried to kiss
me. I knew he was gay but since he had just went on about how great it was
to be in a band with his lover, I thought it was odd that he was trying to
kiss me, or maybe it was make the goofy guy who was writing a story about
him feel even more goofy. Iıll never know.
    But the goofiest thing was that I left the whole thing pretty happy,
not the least bit let down -- one of the only times Iıve met someone and
not felt let down. Yeah I watched the guy score and do heroin, he tried to
kiss me, but hell otherwise he was really nice, and overall I still
remember it as a hell of a day. I tried calling him almost a year later to
ask him about his new record for a review I was doing, but by then I
couldnıt read my own scribble of his phone number.

Oh well
ckline