The band members also aren’t little girly minions who readily accept control and counsel from those outside their inner circle. This year, Robertson, vocalist Brett Anderson, bassist Maya Ford, and drummer Torry Castellano opted to part ways with Atlantic Records, and return to the indie scene that nurtured them when the Palo Alto, California, band launched its debut (American Teenage Rock ‘N’ Roll Machine) on Lookout Records in 1998. The new album, Bitchin’ [Purple Feather], is currently a self-released, self-promoted project that was borne out of pre-production demos for the next Atlantic release that was not to be.

You’ve pretty much been a Gibson and Marshall player the past few years—did you change up your gear for the Bitchin’ sessions?
I didn’t get anything new before the recording, because we were making demos—or what we thought were demos—and we were trying to use what we had to save money. So I did a lot of the recording with my Les Paul Studio, my Marshall JCM 2000 Dual Super Lead, and a Marshall Jubilee that [album co-producer and engineer] Jay Ruston had borrowed for another project. The 2000 is still my workhorse. It’s pretty much the bomb, but the Jubilee offered a warmer and creamier tone that blended well with the crunch of my 2000. Then, right after we finished the album, I got a Gibson Explorer Pro that I’ve started using live. Gibson sent it to me to check out, and I loved it immediately. It’s photogenic, it’s easy to play despite the angular shape, and it produces a really awesome, biting tone.

How did the possibility of leaving Atlantic ultimately affect the direction of the album?
During pre-production, we weren’t sure if we wanted to stay with them. They wanted us to start writing with other artists—which is what they were pushing on every act, whether they were pop, hip-hop, or whatever. We refused, but then we gave in after we were able to pick a few writers we actually respected—such as Holly Knight, who wrote “Love Is a Battlefield” and “Rag Doll.” That turned out really well, but we weren’t pleased by the direction Atlantic wanted us to follow. And it seemed like Atlantic wasn’t impressed either—not in a rude way, but they felt we were compromising, and that’s how we felt, too. I don’t think they felt very comfortable pushing us into that pop world, but that’s really the only world they operate in.

It definitely seems weird for a self-contained hard-rock band to dip into the pool of “radio ready” songwriters.
I have a lot of disdain for that kind of scene to be honest, and that’s why we were refusing for so long. But the new trend is that the songwriters are the producers. They’re like the new rock stars. They almost have a whole song finished, and then they ask the artist to fill in the lyrics. But I’m a guitar player, and I don’t even like writing lyrics that much. So, for me, it was sometimes like, “Why am I here?” Plus, a lot of the writers don’t want you to change any of the melodies, or even the guitar riffs. That’s not really something I’m okay with.

Were your songs really deemed “not commercial” or something? I’ve always enjoyed the band’s pop-rock sensibilities.
Whether our songs were good enough on their own or not, it wouldn’t really matter. I think Atlantic was just scared. We never really made that crossover hit with Spend the Night [in 2002], and going into the pop world with a rock band like us is difficult. I think that, in general, they were hoping for something more like dance music, but with a guitar riff. This blows my mind, but it’s so trendy for a pop singer to do a song with a driving beat and one little guitar riff that sounds as if it was recorded through a telephone. That has been a formula for a couple of years now. The labels want pop singers to be more edgy and rock, and they want rock bands to be more poppy. It’s a very odd world in the music industry these days.

So how did some of the album demos turn out to be the final songs on Bitchin’? 
I’d like to think it was because we actually did a lot of good work at the demo stage, and also because the quality of the demos we were doing with Jay were better than our last album. He’s a great engineer, and he likes a lot of the same bands we like, such as Van Halen and Ratt. I don’t think he gets the opportunity to work with a band that’s going for the sound we were going for, so he wasn’t interested in compromising it, or making it radio friendly. Now, a lot of people will go, “Yeah, we like those bands, too.” But they won’t let the album sound that way, because they know that’s not where the money is. However, Jay would just say, “I don’t think we need to do anything to this song—maybe just a tempo change.” We couldn’t believe it. When we did Spend the Night, some of the producers changed things that I thought didn’t need to be changed. It was almost as if they changed things just so they could say they did—even if the change was not necessarily for the good of the song. When we finished recording the demos for Bitchin’, I was pretty sure we had done everything we could. I even said to myself, “God, I hope we don’t have to do this again, because I don’t know how we can make it better than this. This is already the best.”

Did you do anything different during the writing stage?
Our vision was definitely to return to the sound of our first album, American Teenage Rock ‘N’ Roll Machine—which was heavily influenced by Poison, Motley Crüe, and other hair-metal bands. Then, I would do song demos with a MIDI beat and bass line. The whole structure of the songs—even the vocal melodies—was arranged and played on keyboard. It kind of sounded like a video-game soundtrack [laughs]. But some of the keyboard stuff helped me come up with ideas that I would never think of on guitar, because my fingers just kind of go to the same places they always go—the same scales, and the same positions. When I listened to some of the earlier demos that I played on guitar, the chord progressions sounded too familiar and boring. Of course, the fact that certain keys work best for Brett added to the problem, as I was tending to stick to those keys. So I was definitely stuck in a rut, and the keyboard expanded my mind. I’d say, “This is the best melody. I’ll figure out how to play it on guitar later.”

I should also admit that working with other songwriters—especially Holly—improved my craft. We all started honing the songs on a whole new level. We’d pick apart the arrangements and lyrics—and even the phrasing of the words—until everything was just right.

Can you specify what you mean by “just right”?
Melody has always been important to me as a guitar player, but, this time, it was more like an obsession. Melodies were priority one. This meant the vocals, the guitars, and even the drum fills. We went over every song with a fine-tooth comb, and made sure the melodies and countermelodies were as strong as they could be.

Your solos have always had a nice melodic impact.
Well, I can’t really show off [laughs]. I’m not that fast, I’ve never taken guitar lessons, and I’m not a noodle master who is always practicing and playing guitar in the back of the tour bus. In fact, I don’t really think of myself as only a lead guitar player, because I’m playing rhythm 90 percent of the time. So I’ve always been more interested in making my solos a continuation of the melody of the song, or taking that melody somewhere else and coming back. A lot of times, I come up with my solos in my head before I even pick up the guitar.

The Donnas lineup has been around for almost 15 years now, and the band’s style has evolved from punk to metal and classic rock. Along the way, you’ve developed quite a catalog of influences. Is it strange to be around so many new bands that are exploring much the same territory as the Donnas circa 1993, as well as the Donnas circa 2002 or 2007?
I’m sort of an old soul, and I feel absolutely ancient when people claim they’re making original music and I can nail the influences. Even if someone says the Donnas are making original music—which is very nice to hear—I’m like, “Don’t you know any of the music that has directed our style?” I mean, you never want to rip anybody off. The best thing to do is pay homage, try to do something a bit new and surprising, and remind people of what the original inspiration sounded like. It’s kind of like trying on comfortable clothes [laughs]. And yet—it’s really weird—I don’t feel I can do that now, because so many younger fans are pretty ignorant to classic and old-school rock. I never thought of myself as someone who listens to “obscure” music! In this day and age, a lot of people have huge music libraries, but it’s like they’re collecting music, and not really listening to it.