Rock’s Reluctant Front Man
By MARC MYERS
Just days before the start of Steely Dan’s “Shuffle Diplomacy” tour last Saturday, Donald Fagen was holed up in a New York rehearsal studio. Mr. Fagen, who co-founded the rock band in 1972, has just completed his fourth solo album though he won’t have time to mix it until the tour ends in the fall.
Donald Fagen, who co-founded Steely Dan nearly 40 years ago, says he is as uncomfortable on 
stage as ever: ‘I never wanted to be a singer…we just couldn’t find anyone else.
One of rock’s most introverted stars, Mr. Fagen projects a crabby persona on stage, like the guy who yells at kids for sitting on his car. But when he lets his guard down he reveals a dry, self-deprecating wit.
A self-taught pianist, Mr. Fagen, with co-leader guitarist Walter Becker, has over the years created an indelible sound for Steely Dana stylistic s’more of jazz, R&B and rock (“Aja,” “Rikki Don’t Lose That Number,” “Hey Nineteen”). In an interview, Mr. Fagen, 63, talked about his snarky side, his on-stage discomfort and his future work.
The Wall Street Journal: Do you still like your band’s name?
Mr. Fagen: Naming the band Steely Dan was a spur of the moment thing. Back in ’72, we needed a name quickly for the cover of our first album. Walter and I were both fans of novelist William Burroughs, so we named it after the rubber device [a sex toy] in “Naked Lunch.” It was basically an inside joke that went mainstream. Now we’re stuck with it.
Do you see a lot of people under age 45 at your concerts?
We don’t care how old people are so long as they come [laughs]. We’re sort of free of audience influence. Walter and I are our ideal fans, and we figure fans will like what we like. And if they don’t, that’s really not our problem.
How did you teach yourself to play piano?
I took some lessons as a kid but trained myself by ear. I did it the way jazz musicians used to learn years ago, which is to play records and slow them down to figure out the notes. At first I tried to imitate Red Garland, who was my favorite jazz pianist.
Why haven’t you recorded a jazz album?
My style is a little quirky. I can’t play as fast as most professional jazz players. I always thought I could do something the way Thelonious Monk does, where he has his own eccentric way of improvising that wouldn’t require great speed. But it seems the more I practice, the worse I get. I started late, and muscles and reflexes don’t develop properly. Fingers four and five don’t work so well.
What’s your greatest strength?
My rhythmic feel. I think I have an old-fashioned feel that’s kind of more laid-back than most people who currently play. It’s sort of swing-era jazz, an older R&B feel, like Ray Charles.
How do you and Walter Becker work out the songwriting?
How we write has changed over the years. Generally speaking, I do the greater part of the music. Then Walter and I sit down and improve and amend the pieces musically, and then work on the lyrics together.
Do you and Walter still care what each other thinks?
After more than 40 years together, we’ve each had our moments. Between 1980 and ’85, we split up. It wasn’t really anything personal. We kind of ran out of steam. But after a few years we started writing again. Our relationship is based on entertaining each other, so it works.
Where do your lyric references come from?
My writing is really intuitive. As a kid, I went to school in New Jersey and hung out in New York, so the way kids used to talk got into our earlier songs. Walter and I both love inventing slang. For example, in “Josie” [from “Aja”], there’s a street gang using a weapon called the “battle apple.” It sounded better than any real weapon we could think of.
Where does the sardonic edge come from?
Walter and I enjoyed reading science fiction as kids. Writers like Alfred Bester, Frederic Brown and Robert Heinlein. They were mainly writing satire under the guise of science fiction. They created this alternate reality that’s sort of like this one, but by its very difference illuminated certain things about this one.
You seem uncomfortable on stage. Are you?
If I seem uncomfortable, it’s because I am. I’ve never been comfortable as a lead performer and I never wanted to be a singer particularly. We just couldn’t find anyone else who had the right attitude to put over the material. We tried. In the early ’70s, we asked Loudon Wainwright, because he’s smirky. But he was under-whelmed by the idea.
Do you have a snarky personality?
[Laughs] Yes, it comes naturally to me. I do it on stage without thinking because I know what the songs are about.
How’s the solo album you just finished?
Unlike my previous albums, I wanted to get away from a theme. I’ve sort of had it with my autobiography. I’m still addressing things now in songs that are personal. But instead of looking back, they are set in the present. And I’m not the protagonist. There are characters.
Is there a new Steely Dan album in the works?
Walter and I keep throwing around the idea for one but we haven’t really settled on anything yet. There will likely be a “Best Of” in 2012, our 40th year.
Did you ever meet Bob Dylan?
I met him a couple of times, very briefly. Bob doesn’t say much and never said anything to us about our music. But he was a big influence. Before Bob, no one in the pop medium had ever used that breadth of subject matter or surrealistic and dream language.
How do you remember all of your tricky lyrics in concert?
I have a notebook in front of me on the piano with the lyrics to songs we haven’t done in some time. My vision isn’t great, but if I squint, I can see a line once in a while.