Dar Stellabotta on building her own instruments and making ‘Into Thin Air’
Dar Stellabotta’s ‘Into Thin Air’ comes from a very specific place. The songs started after the end of a three-year relationship, during a period where writing felt unavoidable.
“It seems I cannot write while in one,” she says. “Or maybe I have not found the right partner yet.” It took about a year and a half to write, with every song tied to real people. Some she’s known for years, others she met for only a few minutes. Most of the album was recorded in Louie Lamanna’s living room in Pittsburgh, with Wayne Mitzen handling the mix and master. She’s playing instruments she built herself. “I treat my cigar box guitars like a piece of me. No two cigar box guitars I build are ever the same.” She got the vinyl a day before the release show. “I literally cried. I had never heard my music sound so great.” The record almost didn’t arrive in time after delays at the pressing plant, but it did. “I am not the best musician, I have flaws, I am no one, just an artist and this is my art.” ‘Into Thin Air’ doesn’t try to fix that or hide it. “My art is for the rejected because that is who I am.”
“I treat my cigar box guitars like a piece of me.”
This world is getting crazier by the day. You were kind enough to send a vinyl record across the pond and it never made it to my door. It went back to you. Twice. Nobody seemed to care. Sometimes it feels like the whole thing is fraying at the edges like that. No responsibility. No one picking up the phone. The only real response left is to write about it or crank an amp and let it rip. When you sit down with that cigar box guitar, what’s the spark? What pushes you to write a song instead of just shaking your head?
Dar Stellabotta: Lol, that is a tough one! A lot of people might not know this, but I love old-school hip hop. I will get in a mood and listen to my carefully curated hip hop playlist, and as the lyrics drop from the beat, my mind will naturally produce my own lyrics that I will later bring into a song I’m writing. Usually, I write the lyrics down.
Take us back a bit. Where did you grow up? What did the streets, the houses, the people sound like? And how did that kid end up building guitars out of what most people would toss in the trash? There’s always a turning point. When did you realize this wasn’t just a hobby but your lane?
I grew up in a neighborhood called Marlton in Upper Marlboro, Maryland. My dad listened to Motown and doo-wop. Our family regularly attended church every Sunday. In the beginning, what caught my ear, independent of what I heard my dad playing, was ’90s pop. My eldest sister’s friend Dawn gave me an Ace of Base tape, and it was over from there. As for building cigar box guitars, it all started in about 2017 or 2018 when I attended a show in West Virginia that my friend Rob Lee put together. There, I saw a cigar box guitar in the raffle but did not win. So I went home and ended up finding a how-to-make-a-cigar-box-guitar video on YouTube by Glen Watt. Not thinking it was actually going to work, I built one and then fell in love with the sound.
I’d love to hear the full story behind ‘Into Thin Air’. Not the short version. The real one. Where were you when the first riff showed up? Was it written fast, like a punch, or did it fight you for a while? And what did it feel like hearing it back for the first time after recording?
The writing of this album started after the end of a three-year relationship. It seems I cannot write while in one, unfortunately. Or maybe I have not found the right partner yet. During that time, I was watching a show called Nashville. Nashville is about songwriters and musicians in the country scene. The music moved me to write. All the songs on this album are about people I have known. Some of them I have known for years, and some I’ve only met for a few minutes. It took maybe a year and a half to write this album. The first time I received the record from the pressing plant, I literally cried. I had never heard my music sound so great, and this was all thanks to Louie Lamanna and Wayne Mitzen. Louie convinced me to record. Most of the album was recorded in his living room in Pittsburgh, PA. I recorded a little at Wayne’s house, but he mainly mixed and mastered all the songs.
The album dropped on translucent orange vinyl on September 6, 2025, the same day as the first Maryland Cigar Box Guitar Festival at Union Craft Brewing in Baltimore. What did that day feel like in your bones?
It was very nerve-racking because I literally received the record from the pressing plant the day before the show. During the pressing process, the plant was conveniently shut down for maintenance, delaying the order immensely. But thank God I did receive the records in time. As I listened to the record for the very first time, I wept because, to my ears, it sounded great, and just completing the project had its own trials and tribulations.
You built the cigar box guitar yourself and ran it through a Micro Dark Terror tube head into an Orange PPC212 cab. That’s hands-on, get-it-done… What’s the relationship between you and that instrument? Do you treat it like a tool, a weapon, a friend?
I treat my cigar box guitars like a piece of me. They are individual artistic creations. No two cigar box guitars I build are ever the same. It’s like anything I am experiencing or going through at that time goes into the creation. Building cigar box guitars is, in a way, therapy to me. Building, creating, and working with your hands has a healing power. I treat my cigar box guitars as my creations.
You recorded the album with Louie Lamanna and had Wayne Mitzen mix and master it. What did they bring out in you that maybe you didn’t even hear at first? Was there a moment in the studio where something clicked and you thought, yeah, this is it?
If it was not for Louie telling me he would record me for free, I most likely would not have recorded this album. Thanks to him, this album was made, and Wayne. Wayne is a rocket scientist who literally has a lab in his house. Wayne really put the polish on the finished product and mixed it for vinyl quality. It all clicked when I placed the first record on the turntable and placed the needle on the wax. At that point, all the effort, work, struggle, and discomfort became worth it.
Let’s talk about ‘Lo-fi Rejection’. That title alone says a lot. What were you rejecting? The industry? Expectations? Your own doubts? And what were you chasing with that record?
The name of that record reflects the rejection of my music in the industry over the years and is basically the album where I say “to hell” with everyone I’m going to record and release a record with the first cigar box guitar I built. I accomplished a successful Kickstarter that funded the pressing of 250 translucent green records. This record launched me into an eight-show Netherlands tour and then a national summer tour when I came home. All this derived from the first cigar box guitar that I built, which cost 28 U.S. dollars to build. Basically, a music career rejected by the mainstream but accepted by my people. My friend Jesse calls us neurospicy individuals. One time, this guy my friend Heather dated messaged me on Facebook and told me I should quit singing because I sucked. So yeah, I know my music is not the best, but I didn’t see that guy building guitars and writing songs. Moral of the story: just because someone does not like your art does not mean everyone will. Everyone is different and likes different things.
You’ve described yourself as “just a washed-up punk rocker that made a guitar out of trash.” That’s funny, but it also feels loaded. What part of that is tongue-in-cheek, and what part is battle-scar truth?
In the late ’90s, the DC and Baltimore punk scene was in full swing, with shows almost every night of the week, and my friends and I were avid attendees. We had the music and a place to go. It felt like it would never end. But just like most good things, it did. Then one year, about 2017 or 2018, I built a cigar box guitar out of mostly materials lying around my house. My friend Russ describes my songs as “three chords and the truth!” So that is where that came from.
Do you have any other musical involvement under your belt that we should dig into? Past bands, side projects, basement recordings, secret collaborations, the stuff that shaped the sound before people started paying attention.
There were many bands over the years. The most recent is Fuzz Voyage, an instrumental stoner doom band I created with my friend Nolan in DC, then continued on with my friends Ben and Jeremy. This project came to a screeching halt when Ben had a stroke over a year ago. But you can hear our ‘Heavy Compass Demo’ on the Fuzz Voyage Bandcamp. I am looking to rebuild the band again in the future.
There’s something beautifully stubborn about building your own instrument and then stepping onstage with it. Was there a moment early on when someone doubted it? Told you it wouldn’t work? I’m guessing that only fueled the fire.
Oh yes, like I said earlier, a few haters would tell me my vocals sucked. I know I am not the best singer, but that’s punk rock, man.
“This world brought my music to life!”
The cigar box guitar scene has its own underground heartbeat. Festivals, builders, small communities who really get it. What does that world mean to you?
This world brought my music to life! If it wasn’t for the people who organize the festivals and some super fans, I would never have gone anywhere. They found me on Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube. Social media gave my art life, and the cigar box guitar scene.
You thanked a long list of people for helping keep the train rolling. Friends, family, CB Gitty, Wickedbucker Pickups, so many names. When support shows up like that, does it change how you approach the next record? Does it add pressure, or does it just make you play louder?
All of that just feeds the fuel of love and positive vibes. If the music comes (I write), then there will be another record. Right now, I am in the middle of mixing an experimental single called ‘It’s Alright.’ It will definitely be released by summer. A summer banger! Just kidding!
When someone drops the needle on ‘Into Thin Air’ for the first time, what do you hope happens in that room?
I hope they realize they are not alone in all things and all struggles. My art is for the rejected because that is who I am. I am not the best musician, I have flaws, I am no one, just an artist, and this is my art. Into Thin Air represents where everything and everyone eventually goes.
Washington, D.C. has a deep punk and DIY history. Has the city itself shaped your approach? Does that old-school D.C. grit still echo in what you do, even if the tools look different?
Yes, for sure. All my songs pretty much remain a few chords at an upbeat pace! Maybe my songs are in self-protest against old versions of myself. Someone described my music as talking about my problems but then finding a solution through self-therapy. Don’t quote me on that, though! The DC grit does echo in what I do because to make a following out of what I do, you have to hit the road, play shows, meet people, sell records, do radio interviews, build more guitars, teach workshops, sell guitars, build amps, sell amps, throw the first Maryland Cigar Box Guitar Festival, travel overseas by myself to tour European countries, screen print tees and patches, do everything yourself. I would say that takes a little old-school DC grit. My art emerged from DIY, and I’m proud of that.
Last one. If you came over to my place and we started digging through my record shelves, what do you think we’d end up spinning? I’ve got… a lot of records.
I would go straight to the reggae/ska section and see what relics you possessed!
Klemen Breznikar
Dar Stellabotta Website / Facebook / Instagram / YouTube / Bandcamp
