The Unpublished Interview for 'Crank It, We’re Doomed'

Groper or gropee?

By Daryl Sanders

I learned a long time ago to expect the unexpected in an interview with Todd Snider. But even after interviewing him hundreds of times, I did not expect to hear what I heard when I recently interviewed Snider about his long, lost album, Crank It, We’re Doomed.

I arrived at Snider’s home on Old Hickory Lake around noon on a beautiful sunny day in November with a list of questions that had not been answered in previous discussions we’d had over the years about the record. To my surprise, Snider told me he had a list of questions, as well. As it turned out, they weren’t questions really, more like a list of grievances, slanderous exaggerations and pseudo-vendettas directed at people in Nashville, which had little-to-nothing to do with Crank It.

As he was going through his list, at one point he said, “And, oh, yeah, John Rich groped me, and I can’t get a witness.”

“John Rich groped you,” I said. “When?”

“Well, he didn’t grope me so much as grope me back, but still, not cool.”

It soon became clear that Snider actually expected me to include at least some of the items on his list in the piece I was writing for the Nashville Scene because “all the other lame-stream rags refused to publish them because of facts.” I explained that I didn’t think the Scene would want to publish any of what he was telling me either because “they’re kind of hung up on facts, too.”

The incredulous look on Snider’s face told me that was hard for him to wrap his head around.

“What are facts though really, Daryl?” he asked. “I mean you can prove anything with them. That seems fishy.”

As someone who has spent a lifetime in pursuit of facts, I had no idea how to even respond to that, so I remained silent. Snider then launched into a rant about the Scene.

“What about how every year when the Scene gives me the Man of the Year award, the pictures they use for the cover are always the odd ones where I hardly even look like myself? A couple years ago, they fucked with the photo so bad I came out looking like a Black guy. My mom still doesn’t believe I was Man of the Year that year. And you don’t think that’s a story? Or a fair grievance to air? Does the Blind Lemon Pledge mean nothing in this town?”

Again, I had no response. Snider took my silence as a no.

Then he pleaded with me, “Daryl, at least let me say this: ‘I lost my penis in a rice paddy in Vietnam many, many years ago. Not during the Vietnam War though — it was the ’80s. I won a radio contest and was flown over by the station to see a Toto concert. It got crazy that night. If you remember the ’80s, you missed them. Am I right? High five! Lost my penis in a rice paddy.’”

I may also have had an incredulous look on my face by that point because Snider then pivoted toward something he thought might be more believable.

“But also what if you put in there that I help out at senior citizens centers seven days a week,” Snider asked. “Sure it’s for the pussy, but that doesn't mean it’s not altruistic on some levels.”

I laughed out loud at that, which made Snider break into a happy smile.

“Also, don't forget to mention that night when John Rich groped me,” he continued. “I swear that happened. It needs to be known. Don't you dare stifle me.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” I told him, “but I would have to know a lot more about it and need to talk with any witnesses to the groping — that sort of thing.”

“Why are you trying to protect John Rich?” he challenged. “Oh, I get it — you want to be groped by John Rich. Good lucky, buddy. I’ve heard your tunes. They don’t spell shit.”

I was uncertain what tunes Snider was referring to, but I quickly assured him I had no reason to protect John Rich; that in fact, I despised him and would never want to be in close enough proximity for him to grope me.

That seemed to satisfy him for the moment, so I took that opportunity to bring the interview to a close. As I was leaving, I told him I’d consider whether to include any of what he told me in the piece for the Nashville Scene, but if not, I would publish a complete account in a piece for The Snider Files. And that, of course, is what you just read.

© 2023 Daryl Sanders