I have a theory that as soon as somebody views themselves as an artist, they enter into a bubble of inability. Since getting involved with Big Bertha Records, Pete Molinari has proved to be a superb musician and songwriter. He gives his all to gigs whether anyone turns up to them or not, he works hard in the studio and he never stops honing his craft. But he is completely useless in all aspects of normal life.
Like most musicians, Molinari is always late. He has no idea how to use a computer (he gets other people to update his MySpace page) and he can only just operate a mobile phone; though actually answering it does usually prove too difficult. He gets lost as soon as he walks out of his house. He misses his train back to Chatham after every gig. And for a 25-year-old British man his knowledge of the modern age is incredibly poor. I put this to the test with a series of questions about the world we live in.
"Why is Jordan famous?" I ask him.
"As in the River Jordan?" he replies, looking confused.
"What is the name of The Arctic Monkeys' breakthrough hit?"
After a pause he looks pleased with himself and says: "Hey Hey We're The Monkees."
"Who starred in the television series 'Life On Mars'?"
"David Bowie."
"What is a Playstation?"
"It's a television game." (To be fair, this is almost correct.)
"What is the difference between a Mac and a PC?"
"A Mac is something you wear. A PC is another television game."
I could go on. He's only vaguely aware of Nirvana and Oasis, but he can list every song Woody Guthrie recorded. His nine brothers and sisters all have sturdy, blue-collar jobs, but Pete's only practical skills are applying pomade to his hair and running away from the local yobs while wearing Cuban-heeled boots. I'm always finding myself doing little jobs for him that in theory he could do himself. Why do I put up with it? Because he's talented and charismatic. With talent and charisma you can get away with anything -- at least in the record industry.
