David Serby, on his musical leanings: "I just love sad and messed-up people. Those are my people."

Courtesy of Jeb Schoonover

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David Serby does not sing about happy marriages, tree-lined streets of dreams, or heart-warming happy endings.

His brand of honk-a-billy blues probes the gut-kick you get when your heart breaks in more pieces than you know how to deal with.

"I just love sad and messed-up people," the 43-year-old California crooner explained last week. "Those are my people. I'm more drawn to people who have lived a harder life and been drawn to the darker side of life. I find some comfort in the bad things."

It's not that his life is all down-in-the-dumps blue, mind you. Serby has a loving wife, a good day job with a California nonprofit, and a band of enviable performers who played to the backside of legends like Dwight Yoakam. He and the band play their first-ever Tucson show at The Hut on Saturday.

But dig deeper than the liner notes of Serby's latest album, "Another Sleepless Night," and you'll find a sad story or two.

Perhaps the most poignant one is the story of how he found his biological brother, and then his biological parents. Serby recalled that his dad, longtime musician Pete Canton, whipped out a scrapbook soon after they met. There were pictures of Canton with folks like Johnny Cash and Tex Williams, a letter from Merle Haggard and a picture of Jay Dee Maness.

Serby recognized Maness right off; the pedal-steel player had played on both of Serby's records.

He continues to maintain contact with his biological parents and brother. With each visit, he feels closer, but he does it all with a dose of caution. His mother — the woman who raised him — isn't too keen on the arrangement and Serby doesn't want to upset her.

His father died in 1994, right around the time that Serby's first marriage was tanking and his life was taking its first big wide turn into sadness.

That's also when he returned to music, a hobby he nurtured in his youth. He put down his guitar when he was 20 and didn't pick it up again until he was 30.

His neo-honky-tonk takes its cue from the roots rockers who influenced him as a teen growing up in California — guys like Dave Alvin and Yoakam, the Blasters, X and the grandfather of Cali country, Buck Owens.

Although Serby's lyrics are brooding, the music is rocking.

"It's uptempo, and the music is actually joyous," he explained.

His career got a big boost last month at the inaugural Stagecoach festival in California. Serby was the festival's very first performance — the first guy to take the stage on Day One.

An experience like that should've brightened his soul, inspired him to write a lovely happy tune.

Not even.

"I've tried to write happy songs," Serby explained with a chuckle. "They just never come out."