There's a good friend of mine –- a suit with a fat expense account who works for one of the biggest studios in L.A. –- who likes to brag to our mutual friends that I have the best job in the world. And while my parents raised me with a good amount of humility, I'm not necessarily going to tell him otherwise.

At least on the good days, I do recognize that being the executive producer for Nissan Live Sets on Yahoo! Music is a pretty good gig. Somehow I parlayed years of pathetic low-five-figure annual incomes as a music journalist -- free CDs, cool! – into a key role in what I believe to be the best video concert series on internet or television. I'm not curing cancer, nor am I paving blacktops or strapping on a tie and selling insurance; instead I’m getting away with a "grown up" vocation that somehow includes playing host to some of the biggest names in music.

But before I further this self-congratulatory drivel and come off looking like a total jerk, some perspective, please. If engaging with artists and managers and record labels requires a singular kind of finesse, working with the top-tier talent is an art unto itself. Nearly every single artist of that level is the benevolent dictator surrounded by a country full of handlers. And with them come demands and restrictions that inevitably cause a tug-of-war between what Nissan Live Sets is and how they want their artist represented within it. Some resist our quirky format (not doing a Q&A in the middle of the set, not stopping in between songs), some require audio post that perks up a flat vocal note or 30, many are nervous about how their artists, battling to mitigate the unstoppable cruelties of age, will be represented in this new HD world. To that end, camera angles and lighting are restricted and/or required to make butts smaller, wrinkles diminished, chins fewer. (And I'm not just talking about the ladies.)

And that's but a minuscule portion of the craziness that ensues from the moment we book. But nothing is more of an adrenaline rush and reoccurring test of sanity than occurs during the typical 13-hour shoot day. When it's crunch time, it's a flurry of activity with a gaggle of parties demanding attention:

• VIP: "Why do those VIPs get to sit on that couch but I don't?"
• Fan: "I want to meet Joan Jett. Here is my sob story why."
• Mother of teen Avril Lavigne fan: "My daughter's very upset that she can't get an autograph."
• Stooges manager to me: "Iggy will probably jump off the stage during 'I Wanna Be Your Dog.'" Me to Fire/Safety officers: "Iggy will probably jump off the stage during 'I Wanna Be Your Dog.'" Fire/Safety officers to me: "No, he can't." Me to Fire/Safety officers: "I'm not telling Iggy that he can't. He'll probably leave."
• Macy Gray handler one hour before taping time: "We need 12 pair of black socks."
• Velvet Revolver handler 30 min before taping time: "Scott wants makeup" (and yes we know we told you we didn't need it).
• Snoop Dogg handler one hour before taping time: "Snoop wants McDonald's" (and won't eat it in his performance clothes so keep pushing that start time back).
• Weezer frontman Rivers Cuomo, five hours before performance, and after weeks of discussions on how to re-jigger the room so that the band could perform a hootenanny on the general audience floor: "We'd like four individual performance risers around the room in a diamond shape instead of this one here." Okay…

But the rewards –- yes, back to the bragging –- are tremendous. For one, there are the performances. Man, oh, man. And on a regular basis I get to interact in a respectful and professional level with some fantastic artists. Sure, some couldn't care less, and some are complete freaks, but many, many others are genuinely appreciative of what we are doing. And then, suddenly, you find, typically after the taping when the wars are won and guards are down, where conversations turn to the silly and mundane. These are the moments to cherish, such as:

• Keeping Joni Mitchell company at her request as she smoked and shared an old memory of Bob Dylan;
• Hearing Ryan Adams share how much he hates the kind of music that he's most known for;
• PJ Harvey confiding in me how the Q&A was the weirdest thing she's ever done in her life;
• The shaman Carlos Santana putting his hand on my cheek and saying, "Be good, brother;"
• Buddy Guy sharing stories about his early days in Chicago and genuinely inviting me to let him show me around the Windy City;
• Talking parenthood with Trisha Yearwood;
• Hoisting a beer with many;
• Saying no to blunts from several others; and
• Watching the Pretenders get stupid drunk.

And then there was Kelly Clarkson, an artist whose music for which I must confess to have had great ambivalence before working with her. She was the friendliest, coolest, kindest of the lot, not to mention a stunningly good vocalist. After the show, several Yahoo! types were getting a photo with her. "Come join in, Neal," one of my co-workers yelled to me. "I already got my photo with Kelly," I countered. "Yeah, and we made out," Kelly enthused. Yeah… so there!

From that moment on, Kelly Clarkson has always been known as "my girlfriend."

Neal Weiss
Executive Producer, Nissan Live Sets on Yahoo! Music