An Interview with Kevin Starrs of Uncle Acid & the Deadbeats

Feature Photo of Uncle Acid courtesy of Freeman Promotions

Mixing elements of the occult, psychedelia, stoner, doom, and heavy metal, Uncle Acid & the Deadbeats are nothing short of eclectic. Dating back to 2012’s Blood Lust and right on through to 2015’s The Night Creeper, 2017’s Vol. 1, and 2018’s Wasteland, Uncle Acid has shown a knack for mixing and matching genres on a whim.

And that’s been a delight for the band’s fans, which is a good thing, and 2024’s Nell’ ora blu is the band’s most distinctive yet. According to Uncle Acid’s leader, Kevin Starrs, a lot of that comes down to comfort. “I suppose I’m more comfortable now as a singer,” he says. “When I started, it was the last resort as I couldn’t find anyone else. I really wasn’t happy doing it.”

He adds: “I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m not a great singer and that it doesn’t matter. When I think about it, most of the singers I like aren’t really that good either, but they all have distinctive voices.”

Nell’ ora blu has been well-received by the Uncle Acid faithful, meaning that more sonic exploration will surely be on the way. But Starrs isn’t overthinking things, choosing to take things as they come. “I don’t really set myself any specific goals,” he admits.

“There are certain venues I’d like to play for various reasons. The Albert Hall in London, Barrowlands in Glasgow, MSG in New York… but whatever. Ultimately, I just want to keep writing and recording.”

What inspired you to become a musician, and what keeps you inspired?

I really couldn’t tell you. There was no particular moment; I just felt like I needed to play music. It’s like an instinct.

Tell me about where you grew up. What was the scene like?

I moved around a lot growing up. We eventually settled in Cambridgeshire, but there was no rock music scene there—a lot of small towns and villages and a lot of small minds. Public transport is terrible in the east of England, so you end up feeling quite cut off and isolated. I’d go to local gigs and just watch from the back, looking for people to play with.

There was a real lack of talent for what I wanted to do. I’d been in bands with friends, but I actually found that more difficult than playing with strangers. I knew I would have to be totally domineering and control everything creatively. I just couldn’t do that with my friends at the time. If I told any of them what to play, they’d probably tell me to fuck off.

What were some of your favorite spots to take in shows as a kid?

You really had to go down to London or Birmingham to see anything interesting. Cambridge had a few bands come through, but not enough, especially heavy bands. And then the last bus home would be at 10 p.m., so it was hardly worth going out.

Did any local musicians inspire you as you were coming up?

I was more inspired by what I thought they were doing wrong—things like taking loads of band pictures before recording any music, playing shows without enough practice or decent songs, and not caring about presentation or artwork. The list would be endless. I couldn’t understand it. I wanted to try doing the exact opposite of all that.

Some people think we just appeared overnight and then supported Black Sabbath. There was this idea that because we didn’t slog it out playing the toilet circuit, somehow, we didn’t deserve the slot. We just bypassed that way of thinking. I couldn’t afford to drive around doing shows like that anyway. You can do it that way if you want, and it might work, but I thought there could be a more productive way.

To me, putting the time into something didn’t mean playing loads of pointless, demoralizing shows; it meant learning how to write decent songs and coming together in the rehearsal room to record and figure out arrangements. We did that for years before we went out and played to people.

How did you pick up guitar, and what was your first guitar?

My mum bought me a second-hand classical guitar, and I figured out a one-string version of Smoke on the Water within five seconds of picking it up. Eventually, she bought me an electric for Christmas one year—a Tanglewood Nevada Strat with a Kustom Tuck n Roll amp. It was everything I needed. I used the guitar again for recording some of the new album.

Of your older work, what albums mean the most, and why?

Probably Vol 1. as it was the first one. I couldn’t believe people in other countries were into it and wanted to buy it.

For the new record, Nell’ ora blu, where are you pulling from in terms of songwriting?

It’s a lot of improvised stuff, so I can’t really say. It’s instinct. Obviously, it all has to fit the story, so I would just listen to the acting, imagine the scene, and then play. Whatever comes out has been filtered through all the music I’m into.

Which song means the most to you, and why?

“Solo la morte ti ammanetta.” The lyrics on that song are possibly my favorite of anything I’ve ever written. Really nasty, and it just says everything I was feeling at the time. It was one of those that just wrote itself… every line, melody, and chord change just came instantly, and I didn’t have to work for any of it. That doesn’t happen often.

Tell me about your gear: guitars, amps, pedals.

I mostly play Les Paul Juniors after seeing pictures of Johnny Thunders using one. I just thought they looked cool. My main one is an early 1961 TV model with a slim neck. The P90 sounds like a chainsaw—no need for a second pickup or any switches.

My main amp is a Tweed Deluxe with 6l6s built by Lil Dawg Amps. I prefer it over my Fender Deluxe as it has a more out-of-control sound. Live, I pair it with a 1963 AC30 or Bassman clone built by ToeTags. My main two pedals are the Basic Audio Spooky Tooth fuzz and an EQD Speaker Cranker. I used a mid-70s Echoplex that belonged to Neil Young on the new record.

What’s the secret to your tone?

I like a raw, overdriven sound, and the combination of all the basic gear I use helps me achieve that.

What’s one thing about you as a musician that you want people to know and understand?

One of the important things for me, when we make records, is to stay out of the way of the music and let people react to it in their own way rather than us attaching our personalities to it. I like the idea of being pretty anonymous.

I grew up reading music magazines, and they always seemed to be about being a big rock star or some kind of character. This is good entertainment, but it’s not for me. I’m an introvert. The music industry is more geared up for extroverts with big egos and tall tales. People lap that stuff up. A little more respect for us weirdo introverts would be nice, though!

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