Dan Sartain

(July 2010)

Interview by Adam McKibbin

Dan Sartain’s brand new record Lives is immune to the trappings of modern trends, instead choosing to hunker down and relish a retro, rockabilly sound that has turned the heads of fellow trend-transcending rockers Jack White and Mike Ness.  Sartain the guitar player is certainly a main attraction; raised on the likes of Billy Zoom and Johnny Ramone, he knows that a rock and roll riff without attitude ain’t much of a riff at all.  In about a half hour of runtime, he uncorks a generous number of doozies that will have listeners scrambling to knock the air rust off their air guitars.  But Sartain the protagonist is just as important to the success of Lives, as he documents run-ins with paranoia and voodoo, pines for Yes Men to follow him around and re-label his wrongs as rights, and orders the audience to not invite God to his “Atheist Funeral.”

The Red Alert caught up with Sartain while he was out thrift store shopping in his native Birmingham.  Good-natured and quick with a laugh, he talked about the challenges of growing up as a rockabilly rocker in Alabama, the members of his personal Guitarist Hall of Fame, and how Jack White got people to start taking Sartain’s band seriously – even years before they met and toured together. 

I was watching an interview with you where you talked about how it was hard growing up, musically speaking, in Alabama.  How did you find the music that spoke to you?

Well, there’s always music, so I just got turned on to the pretty popular stuff, and then went on from there.  My parents were good about that.  They saw Black Sabbath, they saw Alice Cooper, they saw Neil Young, they saw the Stones with Mick Taylor on guitar – so they pointed me in a good direction.  Just because music is popular doesn’t mean it’s not good.  There’s still not really a band as good as the Beatles, you know?  And they’re the most famous band ever.  But I’ve said that a couple times in interviews with folks, about Alabama.  You know how it is, coming from a small town – it’s an obstacle between you and good music, as opposed to living in a town where underground bands would want to come.  It’s easier to get people to come to your show in Atlanta or Houston than Bumfucknowhere, where they will hate you if they do see you.

You get out to some of those places and kids will come out to any show – just because there is a show.  Just the fact that there’s a band is enough to draw a crowd.

Yeah, it’s still kind of true to an extent.  We’re booking tours sometimes and it’s like “OK, you’re going to be in New York on Sunday night, might as well go ahead and get you a show on Monday, too.”  Well, man, you can’t hardly get nobody from New York to come to your shows, as big and crazy of a city as it is.  So you might as well go to Buffalo on Monday – or the Catskills or something. [Laughs]  But sometimes you’re in the middle of nowhere on a Friday or Saturday, and that’s kind of a bummer, too.

When did the rockabilly influence come in, then, and who were the important sources?

Ricky Nelson, mainly.  He seemed like a guy I could actually imitate pretty well.  [Laughs]  We kind of had similar voices and kind of played guitar the same way, when I started out doing it.  He seemed like a guy whose act I could steal pretty way.  The other guy that I felt I could steal his act would have been Jim Morrison – but I think pretty much every man can do that.  I like the Doors a lot, but I didn’t want to do that.

Your new record is a great guitar record.  How did you learn to play?

My father.  There was always a guitar around, and he taught me chords.  I had to learn some technique on my own.  Technique isn’t really teachable; it’s like telling someone how to taste something.

Who would make your Guitarist Hall of Fame, then?

Glen Buxton.  I’m really stuck on him lately; he was the guitarist for Alice Cooper.  Him and Billy Zoom.  Chuck Berry was another guy that I felt like I could imitate.  Intimidate.  [Laughs]  Nah, I don’t feel like I could intimidate Chuck Berry in the slightest.  Johnny Ramone, too, but I can’t do it as good as him.

I read a review very recently of Billy Zoom and it talked about how happy he looks on stage, even after all these years.

He’s making fun of all that stuff.  He can do all that stuff in his sleep.  That guy is a really talented guitar player, and not a punk rocker at all.  He just saw that was the trend that was going on and was like “Alright, I can do circles around this stuff.”  And he could, you know?  [Laughs]  He never looks down.  Not only is he smiling – that’s the act part of it – but the really impressive part is that he never looks down at his guitar once.

The White Stripes get mentioned a lot in your press, especially after you toured with them and then released the single on Third Man.  What was your relationship with them prior to Jack [White] calling up and asking you to go out on the road?  Were you a fan of theirs?

At that point, when they came out… you know how people, especially men, they don’t progress very well?  Like people who were my age when Nirvana came out, they were probably like “Oh, yeah, whatever, I’ve seen a long-haired guy with a guitar before that plays this kind of music.”  I think I was right past the target audience; I was getting my ass kicked by the world at the time and realizing that my opinions mean nothing and that I’m never going to change the world and that there are things about the world that I’m going to have to accept.  [Laughs] 

When [the White Stripes] came out, I recognized their importance because I was in a two-piece band, too, and a lot of times the club owners wouldn’t want to pay us because we didn’t have a bass player.  They thought we weren’t a complete band.  “Well, I think the White Stripes went with no bass player because they didn’t want one.”  We definitely needed one.  [Laughs]  But we didn’t have one all the time.  After they came out, people took us more seriously.  So I owed that guy a thank you before I even met him – years and years before I met him.  I appreciate what he’s done for rock and roll; he’s a good singer and a good songwriter.  I thought it was great when it came out, but I was also trying to do my thing, so I wasn’t as impressed by stuff anymore.  I’m about to go to the record store right now and buy records that I’ve already bought.  [Laughs]  I’m not buying any new records.

And now you’re out on the road with Social Distortion, which seems like a pretty great bill.  What’s your history there?

You know, I don’t know what [Mike Ness] is up to now, but I know all my friends are crazy about them, so I wish I could go back to 1998 and brag to all those people.  But, yeah, it’s a pleasure and a privilege.

What’s the live setup like?  Do you have that bass player?

Yeah, yeah, I’ve got a couple guys with me – a bass player and a drummer.

“Atheist Funeral” is one of my favorite tracks on the album – and not just because I’m an atheist.  But what kind of a response has that been getting?  I imagine it’s kind of a tricky subject to bring up in your neck of the woods.

Well, I think it’s OK – because people quit paying attention to me here.  [Laughs]  It’s alright.  It’s weird, though, when I come back here.  At some point, you kind of want your ego inflated a little bit, especially if you’re feeling a little down.  People talk about musicians and their big egos, and that might be true – but I think it’s pretty much true for everybody.  Sometimes you need it a little bit.  I go out on tour and it’s nice and somebody I’ve never met before is bringing me a gift and it’s like “Wow, thanks, that’s awesome – I can’t even get this kind of treatment in my hometown.”  And I come back to my hometown and I don’t get that treatment.  It’s like “Hey, wait a second, I wanted no cheese on my sandwich, why didn’t you listen to me?” [Laughs]