Scheduling an interview with hip-as-shit rockers on the rise is always an arduous, energy-sucking affair. How is a struggling San Fran freelance hack supposed to hone his chops and become the next Danny Sugarman or, hell, the next Gary James when he's devoting more time to coordinating an interview than actually writing his damn story? (By the way, James is my teenage hero -- a real, old-school rock critic and flea-market habitué residing in Syracuse, N.Y., who, in the late '80s, played an integral role in investigating the "Elvis is alive, and he frequently dines at a Wendy's in Kalamazoo,... More >>>