Sadler Vaden
Sadler Vaden has a new album. And a new baby, and a toddler, and a day job that takes him all over the country, slinging six-strings for Jason Isbell. I am exhausted just thinking about it. As a dad who can barely get the trash cans in the front yard before the garbage truck shows up, I am astounded that Vaden manages to balance work and life enough to squeeze in a self-produced, self-released record for himself. I might not understand the how, but I understand the why. When you finally get the kids in bed and put on Dad Rock, Vaden’s latest solo album, you can feel the paternal urge to roll a number in the garage.
“I’m really, really tired, obviously,” Vaden tells the Scene ahead of a break punctuated by a belated album release party Friday at Third Man. When we speak, he has just stepped off the bus after a morning driving through Texas hill country. The longtime guitarist in Isbell’s band The 400 Unit has been all across the country this summer, from festivals to theaters to opening slots on Zach Bryan’s stadium tour. Luckily, Vaden has had his family with him for the past two months.
“Rock ’n’ roll hours and baby hours don’t mix too well,” he says. “But it’s fun, because we’re together and I can help. … I will say, [the kids] sleep really well on the bus. [Laughs] It’s all the white noise — the kind of cold and the hum of the bus.”
Dad Rock, released just in time for Father’s Day back in June, captures the whirlwind of emotions that comes with those early years. If “dad rock,” the lower-case concept, can really be characterized as any music that embarrasses your children, Vaden’s kids are going to have plenty to roll their eyes at. He is unabashedly emotional in telling listeners about all of his joy and anxiety and wonderment. Dad Rock is 34 minutes and change of gushing dad vibes, a paternal positivity that pairs well with the ripping guitar solos that have been Vaden’s trademark.
“I actually started the sessions for Dad Rock right before our second son Theodore was born,” says Vaden. “So life on and off the road has been very, very busy, and a lot of adjusting. But ultimately it’s been really, really, really good.”
Dad Rock feels like a miracle of time management, a moment stolen from the all-encompassing process of making little people and teaching them how to be little humans. Primary tracking took place over two days, with the rest of the pieces coming together during downtime. It involved collaborating over the internet and crafting the fine details in the wee hours. Dad Rock captures that heady euphoria of exhaustion and elation of early parenthood the way “White Light/White Heat” captures the rush of scoring or the way “Dopesmoker” captures the aesthetic of a bong hit held too long.
“I don’t really know how I did it,” Vaden says. “I guess since it was in December, we weren’t touring. But it was definitely harder with two kids to find the time to do a project like this that I’m not necessarily able to tour on and all that. … I’d be cleaning up the kitchen with headphones on, listening to my friend Owen [Lewis] mix it.”
Having ace timekeeper Fred Eltringham (whom you’ll have seen lately onstage with Sheryl Crow) and Vaden’s fellow Music City rock dad Julian Dorio split drumming duties certainly helped. The deep pocket they create underscores the fundamental Southernness in songs like “The Rescuer” and “Two Balloons,” bringing out elements of Muscle Shoals and Alex Chilton’s Memphis in the ’70s and Mitch Easter productions in the ’80s. And, in a total dad-rock move, Vaden covers “Staying Alive” by Dorio’s old band The Whigs, a stone-cold classic of 21st-century Southern rock. The fact that Vaden turns the back half of the song into something that would be at home on Joe Walsh’s But Seriously Folks… makes it all as satisfying as cracking a cold beer after mowing the lawn.
“I didn’t really have a lot of time,” says Vaden. “I’m glad I didn’t spend too much time on it. I think it came out way better because I think it didn’t sound labored-over too much.”
It seems like Vaden tapped into that primal dad focus that makes us carry too many grocery bags at once. But rather than getting the pantry stocked faster, he made a stripped-back rock record that delivers exactly what it advertises.
“It was liberating for me personally to be like, ‘You know what? I think that feels good to me, so let’s leave it.’”
