地点：兰斯伯瑞酒店(The Lanesborough Hotel)
时间：2011年5月14日，周六傍晚
把兰斯伯瑞酒店的员工鼓噪起来得颇费一番周折，这是伦敦数一数二的低调豪华五星级酒店。20年前，它在贝尔格拉维亚（Belgravia，伦敦的上流住宅区——译者注）圣乔治医院(St George’s Hospital)的旧址上建起，从那之后，王子、苏丹、总统、独裁者以及电影明星等入住者络绎不绝，它如今毗邻海德公园角(Hyde Park Corner)与骑士桥(London's Knightsbridge)，气势宏伟但又不为人所知，这一点颇为出人意料。
我是周六打的前往酒店的，到那后，发现自己得挤过警察围成的人墙与门迎（忙得不亦乐乎）才能进入大厅，尽管前台员工细心周到，处理此类问题得心应手，仍难控情绪亢奋的歌迷，他们欢呼雀跃，跟炸开了锅一样。见到这个阵势，我想凯特•米特尔顿(Kate Middleton)大婚前入住戈林酒店(Goring Hotel)时的情景肯定也不过如此吧！
我走到前台，礼貌地咳嗽了一下，（就象每天对门房说的那些话，）低声说道， “您好，我是到这与Lady Gaga会面的。”
我想众所周知，好莱坞明星煞费苦心以怪异的化名入住酒店，往往不乏得意之情。只有那些熟悉内情者方能直接造访明星的房间或者由专人领上去会见。Lady Gaga的助手早就提醒过我，别来神神秘秘的这一套，不知什么缘故，我本能地觉得Lady Gaga名声实在太大，哎……太具个性，因此嘛，并不兴这一套凡夫俗节。
就在我急匆匆地经过人群时，两边挤得水泄不通的歌迷山呼海啸，兴高采烈，紧握成拳头的右手高高举起，我试图以同样的方式还礼，但却显得很笨拙。歌迷们肯定已经猜到我此行兰斯伯瑞酒店的目的，我这一还礼，就等于礼貌性地承认此事。高举拳头是全世界Gaga粉丝（他们自诩小怪兽(Little Monsters)）的标志性动作，尽管本人“年事已高”，体态臃肿，但觉得称呼自己是小怪兽歌迷并无不妥之处。
本人通常不给在世的人写人物专栏，Lady Gaga是目前唯一享此殊荣者。史蒂夫•乔布斯(Steve Jobs)也算是个例外，去年我代表《时代》周刊(Time magazine)对他进行了专访。我本意并非是说史蒂夫•乔布斯与Lady Gaga是当今世界最重要的人物，其他人都不足挂齿，只是……哎，有些人就能以某种特别的方式燃起你的采访欲，至于在世人看来，这样做合适与否，本人这把年龄就不在乎那么多了。
2000年4月，在新开张的西好莱坞(West Hollywood )苏荷馆(Soho House)的顶层阳台上，经由一位朋友介绍，我就认识了Lady Gaga。那天晚上，她撩起了自己一直披的面纱，于是我亲吻了她的双颊。在那个很潮的私人会所，餐桌上就坐的都是耳熟能详的好莱坞一线明星，看上去象是夸张的杂志照片小样，14岁的Lady Gaga进屋时，全场一片惊愕，鸦雀无声。
那一阵子，全世界每家电台与美发店都在大声播着她那曲《糟糕的浪漫》(“Bad Romance”)。（““啦啦啦啦啦, Roma-Roma-ma-ma, Gaga 哦啦啦……想要你的丑，想要你的病……”就那样的东西）对于那些耳塞一族（一天到晚听着这些音调优美、容易上瘾、踮着小脚的优美旋律）来说，这是一首难以抗拒的歌，虽然在我看来，这就是她另两首歌《狗仔队》(“Paparazzi”)与《我有一张扑克脸》(“Poker Face”)的翻版，它们让我坚信Lady Gaga是位货真价实的音乐家，她的歌里有真正的思想。
我由专人陪同上电梯，一起穿过一道道暗黑色面板装修的走廊，最后进入会谈的套间，这一路上，我的脑海中不时回味这些记忆。摄影师沙米尔(Shamil)与他的助手早已等候多时，他们已经架设好灯光，调试好拍摄角度：不多会，一群服务员走进来，手里端着精挑细选的茶盘与饼架，直看得人目瞪口呆。
“哇塞，”我心里想。“看到弗莱先生这位正宗的英国佬与来自纽约鲍厄里(Bowery)的这个姑娘在一起喝午茶，该有多么逗！不知这是谁出的鬼主意？既然这样的话，就让本人来玩到底吧，再说，烤饼看得人垂涎欲滴！我准备好录音用的iPhone，坐到沙发上，又过了一遍笔记本上草草记的问题。
Lady Gaga的故事早已家喻户晓，耳熟能详，无需我在此再�嗦一遍。即便对于那些只关注股票指数、油价与金价的波动、伦敦波罗的海交易所(Baltic Exchange)大行情的FT读者，也都毫无疑问熟悉这位来自纽约下东部区(Lower East Side)的女孩，短短几年，她就由史蒂芬妮•杰尔马诺塔(Stefani Germanotta)这个寻常姑娘变成了全世界最知名的歌手。诸位肯定听说过肉皮装、亚历山大•麦奎(Alexander McQueen)设计的高跟鞋以及那些惊世骇俗的帽子，这些帽子是菲利普•崔西(Philip Treacy)专门为比特莱斯公主(Princess Beatrice)设计的，戴到Lady Gaga头上后，看上去就象演员埃纳•沙普尔斯(Ena Sharples)在Rovers Return旅馆中（这是其出演的肥皂剧中所假设的场景）戴的东西。
所以随后开的玩笑就变得很随意，Lady Gaga穿着大胆，出位到了极致，甚至到了荒诞不经的地步。这种造势伎俩看似自命不凡，却又无聊之至，是后现代版的《皇帝的新装》(Emperor’s New Clothes)。我们就象那低能、但又自命不凡的长臂猴，太好骗了。
. . .
通过观察明星助手们的情绪，就可以对明星本人的性格与行为猜个八九不离十。Lady Gaga的助手们不时走进来，就她下午会谈迟到向我表达歉意（在另一房间，她正进行背靠背电视台采访），他们的行为举止看上去轻松、愉悦、自然，他们脸上没有那种因为刚刚遭到人臭骂一通，但为钱所迫而流露出忍气吞声的神情，所以见我并没有心情抑郁，动不动就大发脾气。
那时，正当我自己思量要不要让人再添点热茶水时，Lady Gaga已经走进房间。
我可不能说她头上那顶张扬的瓦格纳风格 (Wagnerian)的帽子是特地为我而戴，但这的确让我宽下心来，她很随和地跟我打招呼，“咱俩又见面了” ，并对我莞尔一笑。
她坐到椅子上，随手把腿搭到我坐的沙发沿上，于是我们的会谈就这样开始了，我们开聊后，沙米尔在一旁拍着，一副感激的神情。
“您都知道些什么？”过了一会儿她问道，“我们为啥不先谈，最后再多照一些相？”听到这，沙米尔与助手赶忙出去，显得很紧张。我能觉察出，沙米尔担心Lady Gaga事后可能会食言，结果自己只拍了屈指可数的几张照片，回去后会被主编狠K一顿。
现在屋里只剩我们俩人了，我觉得最好先问她事关她的一则传闻，这是我早先从酒店员工处听到的。
“我听说你昨晚给所有守候在外的歌迷派发饮料？”
“事实上，我昨晚给他们送的是热巧克力与蛋白杏仁甜饼干。但今天，我全天要见记者，心里有点不爽，因为担心无暇下楼去问候我的歌迷。但我还是瞅着机会，下楼给歌迷送了些新鲜饼干与鲜花。”
就此而言，流行歌手与电影明星及足球明星一样，会对你说“一切为了粉丝”，但对于Lady Gaga来说，她与小怪兽歌迷们的关系包含了全然不同的含义。但执着的批评者会从两个方面指责这样的行为：就想着出风头，唯名是从；或者，她啥事都不做，做一个舒舒服服呆豪华寓所里的天后，对待歌迷薄情寡义，爱理不理，听凭他们站在楼下挨冻。
“英国歌迷有何不同？”我问道。“或者说全球的歌迷有啥共性的地方？”
“对，他们之间有共性。小怪兽们是个休戚与共的整体。无论我走到哪儿，他们都给我营造一个小家，这种感觉温馨极了。”
“您似乎很乐于充当无依无靠者，边缘人、畸形者、局外人（那些没能融入社会，自我感觉游离于群体外的人……）的代言人……”
“我关心所有的人……”
“是吗……”我追问道，“事实上我觉得我们都是局外人，只是有些人更善于隐藏而已。”
“有些人戴着伪装的面具，我的新专辑《生来如此》(Born This Way)探讨的就是能否重生，在每个人的一生中不断得到重生。”
“真的吗？”听到这让我颇为诧异。“我原以为这首主打歌(title track)的含义是‘我生来就是男同性恋者、非同性恋者、双性恋、女同性恋者、变性人等等，’而您只是进一步确认…… ”
“不，事实上，性只是其中很小的一部分……看到大家如此死扣字面意义真是很有意思。只要一见歌词中有“同性恋”这个词，突然之间，其它的歌词就不见了踪影。但是，我很高兴地看到世人真正关注“同性恋”这个词，因为这个重要的词揭示了人自身的解放。但无论从哪种意义上看，这张专辑关注的是重生，它关注的是一次次的重生，直至找寻到每个人内心深处真正的自我，诠释你之所以是你，自我感到是生活的主宰。”
（未完待续）
http://www.ftchinese.com/story/001039204
The Lanesborough Hotel
Saturday evening, May 14 2011
It takes quite a bit to excite the staff of The Lanesborough Hotel, one of London’s more self-consciously luxurious five-star residences. Princes, sultans, presidents, oligarchs and film stars have been coming here ever since the grand but oddly anonymous building on the corner of Hyde Park Corner and Knightsbridge arose from the ruins of Belgravia’s old St George’s Hospital some 20 years ago.
I arrive there by taxi one Saturday night and find myself bundled through a tunnel of polite but harassed doormen into a lobby that, for all the discretion and professional sangfroid of the front-of-house staff, fails to suppress a crackle of excitement that fizzes around the interior like electricity. This, I imagine, must have been how the Goring Hotel felt when Kate Middleton came to stay the night before she was transformed into a royal duchess.
I approach the desk, cough politely and murmur, as if it were the kind of remark I might drop into the ears of a concierge every day, “Hello. I’m here to see Lady Gaga.”
As I am sure you know, it is a matter of pride among Hollywood stars that they check into hotels under elaborate and often preposterous aliases. Only those in the know are therefore able to call their rooms or ask to be shown up to see them. Lady Gaga’s people had alerted me to no such code system, and somehow I instinctively knew that the lady was simply too big and too … well … too Gaga, to bother with such nonsense.
Either side of me, as I had hurried through, many in the huge gathering outside the hotel had raised their voices in screams of excitement and their right hands into a kind of frozen claw, a gesture that I had inexpertly attempted to return. The crowd must have guessed why I had come to The Lanesborough and it was only polite for me to acknowledge this by returning their salute. This upraised claw is the worldwide identifier of Gaga fans, or Little Monsters, as they style themselves. I am not embarrassed to call myself – grotesquely over-aged and oversized as I may be – some kind of Little Monster too.
I do not write newspaper profile pieces for a living and Lady Gaga is currently the only person about whom I would do such a thing. With the exception that is, of Steve Jobs, whom I interviewed last year for Time magazine. I am not claiming that Lady Gaga and Steve Jobs are the most important figures in the world and that everyone else can go hang, it is just that … well, some people light your fire in a very special way and I am past the age of caring how good or bad that might look in the eyes of the world.
I had already been introduced to Gaga by a mutual friend on the roof terrace of the newly opened West Hollywood Soho House in April 2010. She had lifted the veil she was wearing that evening and I had kissed her on each cheek. In that stylish private members’ club whose dining tables were peopled by what looked like an exaggerated magazine photo mock-up of every Hollywood A-lister you had ever heard of, this 24-year-old girl had caused a stunned silence to fall as she had entered.
This had been around the time that “Bad Romance” played on every radio station and was blaring from every hair salon in the world. (“Rah-rah, ah-ah-ah, Roma-Roma-ma-ma, Gaga ooh-la-la … I want your ugly, I want your disease…” That one.) For sheer ear-worm tuneful, addictive, toe-tappy tunefulness it was a number impossible to ignore, although for me it was the acoustic versions of her songs “Paparazzi” and “Poker Face” that had convinced me that here was a musician worth paying attention to. The real thing.
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