By Hillel Aron
By Joseph Tsidulko
By Patrick Range McDonald
By David Futch
By Hillel Aron
By Dennis Romero
By Jill Stewart
By Dennis Romero
“That sounds great,” I say. “I can’t wait to read it.”
“There’s probably something else, some other questions you’re supposed to ask,” says Jack. “But I can’t remember. I’m glad you’re not asking them, but I don’t care if you do, by the way. No matter what comes out of your mouth . . .”
Kyle rejoins Jack on the couch, still on the phone, on hold.
“. . . unlike Kyle,” Jack continues, “I’m going to roll with it. Kyle has checked out. At this point he’s just sittin’ here. And that’s okay. That’s part of the interview. You should print that: Kyle mistakes nonlinear artistic interview for lazy unprofessionalism, and then checks out.”
“That’s it,” says Kyle. “We didn’t do an interview, but we made a good friend.”
“Dude!” says Jack, faux-angrily twisting up the volume. “I’m pretty sure we got some gold early on. And I think we were getting ready for another dip, right before you fuckin’ checked out.”
“What?” says Kyle.
“We were gonna catch a wave!” says Jack, raising his elbows for balance.
Kyle digests this. Looks at Jack. Looks at me. Looks at Jack.
“Can I check back in?” says Kyle.
“Yes, you can,” says Jack.
“All right,” says Kyle, pocketing his telephone. “Ready. We’re back.”
Wonderboy, what is the secret of your power?
Wonderboy, won’t you take me far away from the ?mucky-muck man?
—Tenacious D, “Wonderboy”
Jack asks to see the small piece of paper across which I’ve scrawled the words Tenacious D, followed by my two important questions. (I figure one hour for an interview equals two questions at 30 minutes each.) I hand it to him, and he reads it to Kyle: “This is not really a question, it’s a statement. It’s just, in quotes, ‘Follow me. We are the shadows.’ ”
It’s a line from the film. I was going to ask some broad, important-sounding things.
“Well, in fact,” says Jack, “I actually fumbled that line. I said, ‘Follow me. We are the cha-daddows.’ It was important to me that, with that line, I show that we not only think that we’re the best rockers. We think that we’re the best at stealth, as well.”
“Well,” says Kyle. “I think at that point in the movie, you’re also taking a leadership role.”
“Yes,” says Jack.
“I’ve been exposed to be the coward.”
“Of the piece.”
“And you are the hero, taking the hero’s journey.”
“And I apologize if you feel that I forced that into the script.”
“Well, I think it’s a natural kind of alpha instinct.”
Three meaningful nods ensue. Then Jack returns to the important squiggles on the important piece of paper.
“Here’s a question,” he tells Kyle. “ ‘The Search for Inspirado.’ ”
Inspirado: the elusive creative force of the cosmos, origin of artistic ideas. “The Search for Inspirado”: title of one episode of the D’s HBO series.
“That’s not a question,” says Kyle.
“You didn’t let me finish,” says Jack.
Jack tosses me a brief see-what-I-have-to-put-up-with glare. “ ‘The Search for Inspirado,’ ” he continues. “How does that incorporate itself in Tenacious D in The Pick of Destiny?”
“Wait,” I say. “That’s a question. I didn’t write that.”
“Dave, please.” Kyle shows me the face of his hand, then turns back to Jack. “Well, I think it’s a universal problem that every artist has to face: Where do you find it?”
“And after you do,” I say, “what if . . .”
“Please, Dave!” says Kyle. “Don’t interrupt our actual interview, with your lefty, L.A. Weekly nonlinear stuff.”
“I . . .”
“Dave, please,” implores Kyle. “Now: ‘The Search for Inspirado.’ Who hasn’t searched for inspiration?”
His phone rings. Again.
Jack reads Kyle’s face and makes some gestures indicating that this is the call Kyle’s been waiting for. “I think that might be a search for . . . a delicious muffin,” he semi-whispers. “Search for a little goo-goo. Goo-goo is our word for warm, fuzzy muffin-love.”
Kyle’s lady friend has indeed arrived downstairs, and Kyle is busy guiding/advising her where to go and whom to get in touch with when she gets there.