A Disappointing Cracker

As told by Brian Itzkowitz

When I was 30 years old, my heroes included Abraham Lincoln, Larry Bird, and David Lowery of the band Cracker. Lowery had formed Cracker along with lead guitarist Johnny Hickman in 1990, but had previously headed up the seminal alternative rockers Camper Van Beethoven. His unique vocal stylings and literate lyrics made him an immediate favorite of mine from the moment I heard him sing. So, it was considerable excitement that I drove from my home in Denver to Vail, CO to see Cracker perform live in a small venue where a friend of a friend was promoting the show.

Arriving on the early end, I caught the opening act as I began a nightlong practice of guzzling beer. Cracker took the stage and performed what I thought was a great set. The crowd was small and stoned, but they played the hits and I was happy. Toward the end of the show, the promoter Bill approached me and said “Hey man, I heard that Cracker is your favorite band. After the show, I’m going to let you go backstage and meet them. Just don’t be too drunk.” It was too late on the last count, but nothing I could do at that point. But I started to panic somewhat – what was I going to say to these guys? I was drunk, and now nervous.

Cracker played their encore, and as it finished, a huge bouncer from the club came up to me and said “Brian? Let’s go – I’m taking you backstage.” I nervously went with him, behind the stage, down a corridor. I was excited! I was about to meet one of my heroes.

We approached a door and the bouncer put his hand on my shoulder, opened the door, shoved me through, and vanished. My adrenaline was pumping as I realized the only people in the room were me…and Cracker. I managed to stammer “Great show, guys!” As soon as the words escaped my mouth, Davis Lowery walked directly toward me, visibly annoyed and eating a slice of thin crust pizza impeccably folded in half. He stood directly before me and said “Could you give us like five minutes?” as he opened the door the door and ushered me out.

Sometimes meeting a hero isn’t what it’s cut out to be. They’re assholes just like you and me.