Where art thou? Taylor and Griffin Goldsmith cling to each other on the band’s ninth album.
It was nearly a decade ago when Dawes released their fourth album with the plea so many rock ‘n roll fans have consistently prayed for, i.e., “May All Your Favorite Bands Stay Together.” Considering they had managed a 15-year stretch from “North Hills” to “Oh Brother” with mostly cosmetic changes, that should be seen as practising what they preached. And, they’re not done offering arguably the best folk rock to be found on the planet.
After the amicable departure of two bandmates last year, Dawes has been reduced like a fine sauce bubbling on the gas stove in the hit TV series, “The Bear.” The Goldsmith brothers, Taylor (guitar, vocals) and Griffin (drums), along with multi-instrumentalist Trevor Means and Mike Viola (chief cook and bottle washer), carry on like wayward sons of the pioneers of the Laurel Canyon sound.
Taylor Goldsmith is the explorer, dreamer and spellbinder fronting Dawes. He combines an erudite, original approach of a genuinely visionary singer/songwriter. The result is a cyclone of unorthodox ideas capable of lifting almost any brain out of its cognitive malaise like Joe Biden juiced on Adderall. What spins out of this whirlwind of ideas, however, puts Dawes back down on solid ground far removed from Oz.
“Oh Brother” bursts out of the gate spurred by Griffin’s crisp drumming and Taylor’s play-that-funky-guitar riffs on ‘Mister Los Angeles,’ a Shamanic snake oil salesman, someone you might meet after too much ‘Time Spent in Los Angeles,’ the superb highlight of Dawes’ second album. This character spouts progressive buzzwords like “toxic,” identifies as a kitchen, and worries about controversy affecting his image. Really, that’s his biggest worry? Fortunately, this is an example of Taylor’s self-deprecating wit.
Grooving to the irresistible jam of ‘Front Row Seat,’ you’d almost believe Duane Betts had signed on for a second stint with his Nestlé crunching guitar riffs or that Phil Lesh was still playing bass rather than grinning from the afterlife. Mixed feelings about the end of days are confronted from the front row seat of the modern world. The best of times, though? Well, the brothers were just a twinkle in the eyes of their parents during the Sixties.
Long-term relationships are inspected from every angle on ‘Still Strangers Sometimes.’ There’s more than one way to define intimacy, and this song attempts to know the unknowable part of being in a relationship. Taylor (Tailor) continues to let out the waist on the jeans of perception while lowering the hemline of reality on ‘Surprise.’ “The person you were wouldn’t recognize the person you are, but not in the ways you’d expect. It’s a song about getting older and taking stock in how elegantly (or not) we’ve all navigated the terrain.”
Only a fool would say that Dawes is retro, but on ‘House Parties’ the signposts are there in the nostalgia of a sightseeing trip to NYC, playing Donkey Kong and Mega Man with friends. Feeling alive, jubilant even, is all in the human connections you forge, without which you may miss your moment in time and turn into ‘The King of the Never-Wills.” It is “the darker side of the hometown hero archetype,” according to Taylor Goldsmith. “As the verses go on, the roles alcohol and addiction take on in that process.”
‘The Game’ displays a taste of Two Gallants’ style – Griffin on a minimalist trip with the snare drum and Taylor’s chunks of guitar all the instrumentation that’s needed. Dawes is attempting to explore the realities of non-white and/or female songwriters. “It’s sung in reverence – not pretending to know what someone else’s experience is like, but in awe of what I’ve witnessed,” Taylor determined, although you have to wonder if any of that narrative carries a whiff of his own experiences. And for the first time found it hard telling the difference / Between all her friends and all her fans / Which left her with a special brand of emptiness / She channeled right back into the songs / She wasn’t gonna ask herself the question / If this is what she wanted all along.
Taylor’s theories and speculation on ‘Enough Already’ are rooted in a time-tested pragmatism. Notions of feeling good about himself versus focused ambition are astonishing only because they’re so human. In downsizing Dawes, he’s actually hoping to find the spark to ignite a marvellous new bonfire. In more than one way by this latest collection of songs, he is reverting to techniques that will not only ensure the survival of the brothers but could assist in mounting a new way forward without letting go of what got them to where they are. “This song is an effort to balance both perspectives,” he reasoned. “To realize I couldn’t be sane without my gratitude, but I couldn’t do this job at all if I didn’t let that ambition steer the ship once in a while.”
To alter our condition we must alter ourselves, psychologically and philosophically (even numerically), cutting away the fabric that we may see ourselves for what may be our destiny. Taylor the Tailor has got the sharpest shears in folk rock. He and Griffin are open for business and show no evidence of tapering their commitment despite the cynicism of the album’s closer, ‘Hilarity Ensues.’
“If we zoom out far enough, it’s all relatively silly,” he concluded as if unravelling the threads of the big picture and discovering it was merely a child’s doodle. “But maybe, in a roundabout way, that recognition can allow us to enjoy the absurdity of it all the more.”
With “Oh Brother” the Goldsmiths are announcing to the world that they are lifers making music. This record may be a transitional chapter but it’s not an ending. They are just inviting us into a part of their story they can live with, where making terrific music continues.
