Dawes: We Exist Live
For their seventh full-length effort, Dawes finally turn in a studio set tailor-made for a concert stage, ironically as the live-music world remains on pause.
Throughout their first decade as a band, Dawes heard an increasingly familiar refrain from their fans: “Your live shows are so good. I wish your records sounded more like that.” It wasn’t an outright knock on the LA quartet, but it wasn’t quite the unequivocal compliment they’d hoped for either.
They were proud of their catalog and its success. Each of the band’s six studio albums authentically represented where they were at that moment in time. Each album also produced charting singles; 2016’s “When the Tequila Runs Out” peaked at No. 5. And, to them, each record sounded like Dawes.
So, ahead of Good Luck With Whatever’s October release, when the members of Dawes shared the masters from their upcoming seventh studio set with their confidantes, they were more than pleased when their friends’ responses affirmed their own—this album bridged the gap between their dynamic live experience and their creative proficiencies in the studio. In a normal world, without a pandemic, Dawes would be in the middle of a tour or, at least, prepping for one right now. Instead, on this September morning, guitarist Taylor Goldsmith is at home. Taylor’s brother, Dawes drummer Griffin, is on his way to get a COVID-19 test before a local recording session. Bassist Wylie Gelber is in his workshop, tending to his other avocation: building custom instruments. Keyboardist Lee Pardini is in his car, driving to visit family in the Bay Area.
There is a bit of cruel irony in the fact that after finally producing a “live-sounding” album, they are unable to tour behind it. Yet, perhaps, it the perfect record for a moment when fans are yearning for the live Dawes experience.
“I want to do this for anybody that loves Dawes,” Taylor says. “I wouldn’t want to hold off [on the release of the record] because we’d make more money in a year. That feels pretty heartless. To the extent that we can take care of each other, it’s our duty to keep to it.”
In February of 2019, just over a year before the novel coronavirus really hit North America, Dawes met up with six-time Grammy-winning producer Dave Cobb in Nashville during a rare day off mid-tour. The four musicians were well aware of Cobb’s recent work on hit records by a number of artists in their orbit, including Chris Stapleton, Jason Isbell, Brandi Carlile and Sturgill Simpson.
“In our universe, Dave Cobb looms large. I really admire his work. It wasn’t lost on us that this guy knows how to bring stuff out of artists,” Taylor says.
Before meeting with Cobb, Dawes had never really ventured outside their sphere when choosing a producer, working almost exclusively with friends in the profession—Jonathan Wilson, David Rawlings and childhood pal and former bandmate Blake Mills. In contrast, they had only met Cobb once before, casually, in Los Angeles.
“I didn’t foresee us making a record together, but then we went into his space and talked for a while, and he had such an immediate and clear idea of what people love about Dawes,” Taylor says.
Over the course of their preceding two releases—2018’s Passwords and 2016’s We’re All Gonna Die—Dawes had grown more interested in exploring their sonic capabilities. They utilized drum programs, fleshed out their material with string arrangements, and opened their creative ecosystem up to cowriters. Augmented by touring guitarist Trevor Menear, onstage, the group also consistently turned loose an edgier portrayal of American rockand-roll, almost in spite of, rather than because of, their album counterparts.
“Passwords is sort of ornate. There are numerous keyboard, guitar and drum-machine overdubs, and things of that nature which made it more of a production effort,” says Pardini.
However, Cobb warned the members of Dawes right off the bat that he wasn’t interested in that approach. During their candid conversation, he told the group that he wanted to focus in on Taylor’s lyrics, without hiding behind synths or recording tricks.
“We wanted to get back to basics,” says Griffin. “At least in my head, I didn’t want to do anything that didn’t feel natural to us. I just wanted to fucking rock. That’s what we do best.”
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Located in the heart of Nashville’s Music Row, Cobb’s inner sanctum is RCA Studio A. Originally designed and founded in 1964 by legendary guitarist Chet Atkins, the space has been on the National Register of Historic Places since 2015. In 2016, it became home to Cobb and his Low Country Sound imprint.
The main recording space is immense, with an immaculate honey-colored parquet floor, high ceilings and fundamentally perfect acoustics. It’s the kind of place that tempts artists to spread out and fill the area with grandiose intentions; in other words, it’s exactly the opposite of what Cobb did with Dawes.
“The room is so massive; just ready to be rocked in,” Gelber says. “And we’re all sitting in a circle—with Griff in an isolated drum room, but right there—all making eye contact.”
Both the band and Cobb agreed they’d yield the best results by recording live in the studio, aiming to capture the sound of a classic, high-energy, electric-guitar-driven rock band. Last summer, over the course of a three-week session, Cobb and the quartet worked at a breakneck pace, moving quickly from take to take. Serving as an unofficial fifth member, the producer was also in the circle, motivating and feeding off of the band’s drive.
“He was definitely an animated presence,” Gelber says. “He was in the track, counting us into every take. You can hear him counting in at the beginning of ‘Who Do You Think You’re Talking To?’ That’s Dave.”
Dawes is a notoriously cerebral band, but Cobb’s urgency nudged aside their natural inclination to contemplate each performance, pulling any of the band’s left-brain tendencies more to the right. “There wasn’t a lot of time or space to sit there and deliberate over parts,” Pardini says. “The idea of limiting our options was a positive; to really rein it in and get that live feeling.”
“Every song we would do once or twice, and Dave would say, ‘Cool, I think we got it,’” Taylor says. “And we’d all look at each other and say, ‘We’re not sure we got it.’ But he’d just say, ‘Well, I am. Let’s get to the next song.’ And he was always right. It’s a really scary way to work, but it’s also really inspiring.”
Dawes’ repertoire has always been guided by Taylor’s perspective. He’s the sole author on seven of Good Luck’s nine tracks, sharing “Who Do You Think You’re Talking To?” with Mills and Matt Sweeney and crediting Jim James with collaborating on “Me Especially.” The latter selection’s origins trace back to The New Basement Tapes sessions, particularly a guitar riff held over from James’ unrecorded version of “Florida Key.”
A few months after completing Passwords, Taylor married singer and This Is Us actress Mandy Moore. Throughout the year following their nuptials, many of their conversations tilted toward the future. Taylor found himself rising each day at 7 a.m., just like a rank-and-file adult, and recontextualizing what it means to be on the bus with his buds, or making guitar faces onstage every night for three hours.
And Good Luck With Whatever is loaded with numerous expressive vignettes about aging, which coalesce into a musical thesis on life’s transition from Act One to Act Two. “I was feeling that personally,” Taylor says. “[It is about] stepping into adulthood, and trying to figure out what the most graceful version of that looks like. I’m not the young kid with the buzz band anymore.”
He was also listening, in chronological order—to Moore’s chagrin, he confesses—to every Rolling Stones album. Specifically, he studied the evolutionary arc of Keith Richards’ guitar work. (He also finally read Richards’ Life autobiography.)
Good Luck’s opening track, “Still Feel Like a Kid,” kicks off with an ember of a charred guitar sound that was sparked from a Let It Bleed outtake. It’s a revelry riff, announcing a new morning in Dawes Land that brims with sunnyside ba-ba-bahs and celebrates the privilege of a life in a rock-and-roll band.
“A lot of what you are hearing is a conscious effort on Taylor’s part to kind of be like, ‘This is what we do and we do it well. If you don’t like it, fuck off,’” Gelber says. “Where we are in our lives, we’re feeling comfortable in our skin.”
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In July of 2019, Dawes stood on the fabled stage of the Newport Folk Festival. The band was, on paper, celebrating the 10-year anniversary of its debut, North Hills; they welcomed a cadre of guests, including Isbell, Wilson and Benmont Tench, as well as members of Lake Street Dive and Hiss Golden Messenger, to perform songs from their formative first album. Yet, it didn’t seem that long ago that Dawes was being hailed as the next indie folk darlings from Laurel Canyon—a tag that still generates mixed emotions.
“Because we’re creating, and not thinking about it, sometimes I take up those labels, and I say, ‘I guess that’s what I am,’” Taylor says. “Other times, I don’t appreciate that. I feel it’s pigeonholing. Now, I’m 35 and I don’t care anymore. One thing I’m really proud of is that, more than ever, we’ve embraced ourselves. All the noise of people’s opinions about our music has less of a place than ever.”
After a decade of ceaseless touring, Dawes have taken stock of their evolving legacy. They have become a highly respected ensemble, reliably selling out shows in theaters across the country. “Here we are, 10 years in, putting it all on the table, bringing that to this record, and doing it in a live way,” Griffin says.
“We’re not going to be headlining Coachella,” Taylor adds. “There’s a freedom in that realization.”
It’s a freedom that allows, if not encourages, second single “St. Augustine at Night”—an acoustic duet between Taylor and Pardini—to be the centerpiece of an otherwise raucous 40-minute ride. Simply put, the tune finds Taylor at his plaintive and poetic best. The narrative is at once nostalgic and heartbreaking—a scroll of individuals watching their lives pass by, united by life in a Florida tourist town.
Beginning in 2013, Dawes started issuing their albums—six, including two live records—on HUB, their in-house label. The formula worked for the foursome; they found that having fewer people making decisions about their repertoire, cover art and marketing plans felt far better than drowning in a sea of well-intentioned voices. For Good Luck, however, Dawes signed with Rounder Records.
“It’s really for the sake of making sure we’re keeping things fresh and new. Now, I find myself excited about more people, more voices, more contributions, more thinking,” Taylor says. “There are 20 people on a Zoom call that are going to do something for our record. I can’t even believe it.”
However, there are qualifiers that come with the optimism. Each of the four admit it in their own way, but the message is resoundingly clear: Dawes lives on the road. Before the COVID-19 crisis hit the pause button on live music, the members of Dawes were days away from backing Moore on a two-month spring tour. They had also planned to perform with Phil Lesh and David Crosby as part of the Grateful Dead bassist’s 80th birthday celebration at Port Chester, N.Y.’s Capitol Theatre—after connecting with the Lesh family through Jason Crosby and jamming at Terrapin Crossroads. Then, they planned to hit the road in support of Good Luck. Now, other than streaming a twilight performance in late August from a rooftop in downtown Los Angeles, Dawes are forced to wait.
“We exist live,” says Griffin. “[It’s where] our music gets a chance to breathe and evolve. My brother was obviously writing with the intention of touring. Our strength is being able to translate the emotional intent.”
A new album typically leaves Taylor’s songwriting well dry. Yet, the COVID hiatus has been unusually productive for him, with enough material already in the works for another LP. Still, he says, Good Luck With Whatever won’t really come to life until its songs are able to grow onstage.
“I’m so happy this record is coming out. I’m so happy people will get to add it to what their impression of Dawes is,” says Taylor. “I’m curious as to what a record like this can do to our relationship with a fan base at such an incredible time in history.”
