In this live interview at the Fader Fort in Austin, host Speaker A chats with musician Santigold just before her performance. Santigold describes the unique freedom she feels on stage, emphasizing the energy exchange with the audience and spontaneous moments like bringing a fan up to sing along. She hints at upcoming projects but keeps details secret, noting they’re not finished. The conversation shifts to a personal anecdote about her large Great Dane, describing its size, playful yet powerful nature, and how it dominates her life. Later, the dialogue turns to Santigold’s sense of humor, where she admits she isn’t quick-witted or witty, preferring goofy, self‑deprecating humor that makes people laugh at her. Throughout, the tone is informal, playful, and candid, offering insight into her performance philosophy, personal life, and comedic style.
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Hey, we're here live at the Fader Fort presented by Converse with Santigold.
There you go.
Thank you. Thank you for being here. You're about to perform. This is your second time performing at our space in Austin. Yes. What's your favorite part about performing for a whole bunch of people that, you know, maybe are drinking beers?
It's kind of like a freedom on stage that doesn't exist anywhere else, you know what I mean? It's like you get to let go on a different level and do weird stuff that's crazy. It's great to get the energy from the audience. Like last night we played at the Warner party and You know, when I bring people up on stage, and this guy was so awesome. He knew all the words, and we just like had a face-off, and we were like yelling the chorus of the song.
You brought a dude up on stage and he—
And he knew everything. First off, he was dancing, he was like grinding on my butt, and I was like, "What?" And he's like, "Woo-hoo!" But it wasn't— it was kind of cool. Like, he actually— he wasn't touching me, 'cause that would have been off limits. But he was just like so excited, and then I turned around and he knew all the words, so we just were like face-to-face, like screaming the lyrics at each other. It was fun.
Fun. With your new album, what do you have planned?
I have some actual projects that I want to do, but I'm not going to tell you. Why? Because they're not done yet. Bummer.
I want some secrets. What other kinds of secrets can you tell us then? Nothing?
No, there's something good. No, I don't have any secrets.
That's a bummer.
You tell me a secret.
I'll tell you a secret. Once I saw you on the street with a giant dog in Fort Greene. You did?
Yup. Oh, I was going to the park. That's my dog.
Your dog is so big.
He's so big. He's the best, right?
I mean, I was like, that dog is the same size as me.
I know, are you scared of dogs a little bit?
No, no, not at all, but I was just like, alright. I was like, that's a huge dog. Oh, that's Santigold. Those are two things I didn't expect to see.
I love him, he's so crazy. We go and we run around the park and he's a puppy, he's a year and a half.
Okay, wait, I just want to stop everyone and tell you that this dog, if you can picture the two of us curled up, and like, that's how big the dog is.
He will take up the whole couch.
The dog is bananas big.
He's a Great Dane, he's like 6 feet tall if you stand him up. We go to the park and he runs like crazy. It's the type of running where, you know how babies, if you pick up a baby, they have no sense of getting hurt, so they like throw their body back, you know? He's like that. So he'll come charging straight at you like if he hit you, he could break your knees, you know?
Yeah.
So it's kind of like a dangerous game. You got to get out the way, but he has so much fun. It's like the best. Anyway, that's not really a secret though.
You seem a little bit more— it wasn't a secret. I saw you. I didn't say nothing like, "Oh, hey, there's Zuleyha. She's on the COVID of our magazine." Whatever.
That's not a good secret. That has nothing to do with you.
What's a good secret to do with me? All right. I don't know if I have good secrets.
I mean, I have good stuff that I wouldn't know you wouldn't tell me real shit, and I'm not going to tell you anything real.
No, no, but isn't that what it's about being an artist, where you like say real stuff in metaphors? Like, that's the idea, I feel like, right?
I'm not really a quick thinker like that. I'm not very witty, so I don't have like metaphors on the tip of my tongue. Oh man, it takes me a really long time to think of things to say. Yeah, not like in casual conversation, but witty shit, not quick.
So I mean, does it count as witty if you spend a long time coming up with it?
No, I'm not witty.
Just done nothing. You got no jokes.
I'm just not a witty person. No, I'm funny.
Okay.
I am funny, but the type of funny I am is not witty funny. I'm like goofy. Like most of my funniness involves people laughing at me. Do you know?
