It is these moments that make journalism a bit nerve wracking. I cower backstage sitting on an amp uncertain as to who I'll be interviewing since everyone seems to have some kind of dilemma. Finally, The Warlocks' guitarist/lead vocalist Bobby Hecksher walks up to me and politely asks if we can go sit in the bus.

Inside the bus, I sit quietly while Hecksher anxiously makes a few phone calls to friends who will not be able to get into the sold out show they are playing with Black Rebel Motorcycle Club in L.A. tonight. Unlike many musicians who walk into interviews self-possessed with their own greatness, it is obvious Hecksher cares what I think. Mussing his hair over and again nervously he suddenly begins talking unexpectedly,

"I don't want you to think that we're a bunch of snobby drone brats that got all this for nothing. We worked for three years solid to get this. People have this perception that all this stuff comes [easy] and it doesn't. The hardest thing is times like tonight when you have personal fucking anxiety bullshit... but I can't stop the show because of it."

At no point during this entire interview does Hecksher manage to stay seated for more than two minutes. His trepidation makes me nervous but also concerned. It is obvious, that he is greatly interested in honesty and if the rapidity of his words is any sign of how fast his brain is moving then a bottle of valium is desperately needed. He continues to digress about the problems facing him tonight,

"I can't just say 'Fuck it' and I don't want to either... it's just difficult tonight. This is the first time in a long time that I've had [this] kind of anxiety."

He looks down at his hands somewhat somberly and I try to comfort in a way remarking on the pressure of being the central member of a band while trying to maintain the delicate balance of making sure that your fellow band members feel appreciated.

"It takes a group of people to believe in what you do to make it 'our band'. It is true, I do write the material, but if their hearts didn't want to play my songs it would come out like bullshit. I mean, we are totally dysfunctional, you could tell at sound check, we are totally fucking dysfunctional. It's very hard work."

Hard work indeed. Especially considering Hecksher started songwriting only four years ago at age 25, a fact that makes his musical success rather impressive. A cellist, guitarist and bassist since childhood, he discovered a whole catalog of songs coming out of him one day and the rest is history. It is obvious Bobby knows he is a talented musician but he's also aware that his talent comes with a dose of neurotic spaciness which he humorously credits his mother for. I ask if he's close with his mom.

"Um... we have a strange relationship. I love my mom dearly. The thing is we're on two separate worlds. She's not really a music person and you know how moms are, they want to give you all this advice. So I keep telling her, 'Stop it with the advice on music, Mom.' She's also very spacy and a lot of that space..."

I chime in, "You inherited."

"Fuck yeah. I mean, I have to move my microphone because I know I'm going to trip into it. It's stupid but I know if I don't say anything [to the sound tech] I will knock the mic over or knock my guitar into it. That's how badly I know myself."

I remark that at least he knows that as opposed to repeatedly knocking the microphone over at shows. He laughs and agrees. At this point, Bobby finally seems to be a little bit calmer. The apprehension is still lingering but he seems to be talking with a bit more ease. Due to all the activity during this interview (Bobby has changed his shoes, made a vitamin drink, poured me a shot of vodka, turned off the television, made two phone calls, stretched, played with his hair and continuously paced back and forth) I wonder if I have captured enough actual conversation on tape. Turning the tables, Bobby tells me not to worry and assures me that everything will work out fine. In return, I tell him the same thing as I walk out of the bus before the show.