I unearthed these pictures from an ancient photobucket account of the first time I ever met Dan, before I met him, really.These are from the 2007 Dan Sartain/Willowz/Detroit Cobras tour, from the August 10th show in Dallas TX at the Palladium, top floor. I was 18 years old, and so excited to finally see him live. Bryce Prewitt was sick I believe, but I wasn’t going to miss this show for anything.
I somehow conned our friend to come with, who I introduced to Dan’s music a little while before (even faux screen-printed a shirt of the Join album art for him for Christmas).My friend shows up in his work clothes – khakis that were too large for him, a tucked in button down, a middle part. I remember I was like “oh no, this will not do” and I spent the next hour making him into a greaser fit to see a show of this caliber – pompadour, leather jacket borrowed from me. We both felt extremely cool.
Dan was the second artist up on the bill and I was positively elated. He by far had the smallest set up of the night, with just his Silvertone for the majority of the set and a drummer. But the energy was absolutely electric. Clearly the crowd was mostly there for the Detroit Cobras, but lord, you wouldn’t know if from how Dan played. I danced liked no one was watching, because only about 20 people were – Dallas crowds, man.
I always prided myself on being a ballsy little fucker, and that I could walk up to any musician, no matter how much I idolized them, and “shoot the shit”. Cool was my currency, and I desperately wanted this man to think I was cool. He was out on the balcony, leaning against the railing and smoking a cigarette, entertaining a friend. He looked extremely cool. I realized I might be punching a little above my weight, but my friend was watching, and I had a reputation to protect. I borrowed a cigarette and strolled on up to Dan and gave him the classic “Great set, man” and asked him for a light.
Looking back at this in my 30s is pretty cringy, and if I were Dan I would’ve given my best “Who the fuck are you look” but…he didn’t. He grinned and lit my cig, welcoming me into the conversation like I was expected. I remember asking if he’d like one, and he held up his hand with what I could now clearly see was a joint, not a cigarette, and said “Only if it’s a lefty cig!” And just like that, we’re talking about vintage guitars, working at record stores, and a couple of mildly crazy/funny tour stories that will forever be lost to time and my creaking memory. In 5 minutes I felt like I was talking to a friend I hadn’t seen in awhile, and it was easy to mirror his almost frenetic energy, all legs and elbows and piss and vinegar.
We parted when the Cobras came on stage, both sauntering in to the venue from the warm Texas night. I never told him, after we became friends in 2011 about this show, only mentioning that I had seen him play a few years back. It hardly seemed relevant at the time, and I was already in my early 20s with enough wherewithal to be embarrassed by my brazenness. But I doubt he would have cared, and probably would’ve found it funny. Even before I knew him, he was kind to me. Humoring a silly teen that thought he was just the bees knees, and with him being so close in age to me, and playing with the gravity and talent of a man twice that, he inspired me that if he could do it, maybe I could too.
On the drive back my friend told me that what had occurred was extremely cool. And yeah, it was, but more importantly, it felt extremely normal. That’s the kind of energy Dan has. Simultaneously effortlessly cool, cool enough to make you feel cool, but also he’s your goofy weird friend, cracking jokes and talking about Nightmare on Elm Street. It’s the personality perfect for a consummate performer that also might crash on your couch after the show. And even after we became friends and got to know each other as people, a little 18 year old fan whose entire life was rock n’ roll will always look back on this night fondly, a night when one of her favorite artists in the world talked to her like she was not a stranger, or a fan, or a weirdo, but as a friend he hadn’t met yet. She says thanks, Dan.
