THERE are not many acts who can tempt me to part with my hard-earned cash these days.
Partly it’s because I have been spoiled by the job I do, which has allowed me to see everyone from Tom Jones to Cliff Richard, Pavarotti to Duran Duran, and Simple Minds to Pet Shop Boys in the city I call home.
Equally, though, I have never bought into the whole ‘star-struck’ thing. Whether watching Liza Minnelli or Kiri Te Kanawa, I never loose sight of the fact that, talented as they are, at the end of the day they are just doing a job like anyone else.
Which is why I don’t tolerate divas well.
Recently, I heard of just such a star (D list) who insisted that during her Edinburgh run, staff at the theatre concerned avert their gaze and not engage her in conversation if their paths crossed in the corridor.
I know what I would have said to her. But then, even the biggest divas tend to be on their best behaviour when they meet the press and need an interview to put bums on seats.
Anyway, the exception to the rule - there’s always one - is Lady Gaga. I always imagined she would be pretty down to Earth in an eccentric kind of way. To be honest, she is one of the very few acts I’d pay to see - even freebies couldn’t tempt me to go see the Madonna circus when it came to Murrayfield a couple of years back.
So you can imagine my delight two weeks ago, when, while walking through Times Square in New York, a production assistant from The Letterman Show invited me to attend the filming of an episode featuring... Lady Gaga. Better still, we all decamped from the studio to a nearby dance hall where the New York cabaret star treated us to an intimate mini-concert.
Surreal and completely unexpected, I think I may finally be star-struck.