When Their Time Comes: A Dawes Appreciation And Interview
Catching up with Dawes singer/songwriter/guitarist Taylor Goldsmith.
In 2009, while I was writing my first book, Big in China, I shut off most new music, digging deeply into familiar sounds to fuel the writing process. I had Dawes’ debut CD North Hills sitting on my desk for a few months, sent to me by their publicist Ken Weinstein, a longtime friend and publicist I trust. When he bugged me a little, I threw it in and the CD immediately joined the rotation with a lot of beloved classics.
I was struck by the band’s sound, which was wide open and expansive though the tunes were fairly minimalist and simple, firmly rooted in folk rock, redolent of Neil Young, the Band and the Jayhawks as well as the Replacements and Uncle Tupelo, but not copying anyone. listened to North Hills over and over, pulled in by the very first track, “The Western Skyline, ” a song that unfolds with a romantic sweep and makes me long for driving across the high plains of Wyoming. It became my favorite new song in recent memory.
Deep in my book writing bubble, I didn’t do much research about who these guys were. just knew that their songs hit me and stuck with me, and I wanted to listen to them over and over. They had a knack for melody. The songs were full of space but never spacey. The singing was emotional and direct, but on key, with obvious care taken to get it all right without being overly polished. All of this is immensely appealing to me.
The music balanced a lot, but most importantly, youthful energy and a decided maturity and intelligence, in both the lyrics and the minimalist, emotive arrangements. When I finally came out of that bubble, I realized that they come by the youthful energy naturally – the group is anchored by singer/songwriter/guitarist Taylor Goldsmith, who was just 23, and his kid brother, drummer Griffin, 20. They were at least three years younger when they recorded North HillsFor me, their youth was cause for celebration but not disregard. Gregg Allman wrote “Whipping Post,” “Dreams” and “It's Not My Cross to Bear” and “Melissa” when he was 21-22. Jackson Browne was about 23 when his first album came out, featuring “Doctor My Eyes” among other masterpieces. He was 16 or so when he wrote the immortal “These Days.”
After knowing little about then, I suddenly saw Dawes multiple times as they were releasing their excellent second album, Nothing Is Wrong. I saw them open for Alison Kraus at the beacon, at a private party at New York’s Mercury Lounge and at Pete Seeger’s awesome Clearwater Festival. Here they are at that Mercury show.
I have seen them multiple times in the ensuing decade-plus, including several times during an exciting stint with old friend Duane Betts as lead guitarist. They’ve released almost 10 albums since those years, exploring a lot of different musical avenues, some of which I’ve enjoyed more than others, while always admiring their approach and ambition and steadily improving musicianship. Griffin Goldsmith for instance is now one of the top drummers in Los Angeles.
IN recent months, the band has had increased visibility that I’m sure they wished they could have never experienced - as spokesmen for the vast losses of the Los Angeles fires, especially the African American and artistic paradise of Atladena, where the Goldsmith brothers lived minutes away from each other, their parents and former Dawes bassist Wylie Gelber, one of their best friends. All of them except Taylor Goldsmith lost their homes in the fires, which also destroyed the band’s studio. Taylor Goldsmith wrote about this for Rolling Stone and they became spokesmen for the city, leading an all star performance of Randy Newman’s “I Love LA” to open the last Grammy Awards.
I interviewed Taylor Goldsmith for Guitar Player in 2022, on the release of their eighth studio album Misadventures of Doomscroller and here share a fuller version of the interview. Since then, the band released a deluxe version of the album, including a live performance of the full album, where the songs really take flight, and another studio album, 2024’s Oh Brother. I hope you enjoy the piece, and if you do, please subscribe and share!
Dawes debuted in 2009 with North Hills, a fresh slice of Americana that sounded immediately vintage, the product of young guys who sounded old beyond their years. Singer/guitarist Taylor Goldsmith was 24, his drummer brother Griffin was 19 and bassist Wylie Gelber was 21. It was a left turn from the indie rock the Los Angeles natives played in the band’s predecessor, Simon Dawes, which also featured lead guitar wunderkind Blake Mills. Over the 14 years since their debut, Dawes has expanded their palette, reaching into a variety of styles, including minimalist pop rock and 80s synth sounds.
Their eight album, Misadventures of Doomscroller, further extends the band’s reach. Produced by Jonathan Wilson, who worked with them on their first two releases, it is musically expansive. Goldsmith takes extended solos and the compositions that hint at prog rock and even fusion.
I spoke to Goldsmith from New York, where he was living while his wife Mandy Moore filmed the Hulu show Dr. Death.
ALAN PAUL: Your first two albums had a very folky Americana vibe that you’ve moved away from over the years. Why is that?
TAYLOR GOLDSMITH: We grew up on Bowie, Elvis Costello, the Rolling Stones - pillars of rock and roll education, and then right before we recorded North Hills some things clicked with me for what lyrics could do. That was right when things like early Bob Dylan and the Band and CSN which I had heard it my whole life was just starting to make sense to me and had a huge impact. Hearing how far words can take a song, I really committed to being a lyricist.
You clearly enjoy playing lead guitar, and it seems to be an expression of you just as much as the singing or songwriting.
That’s true, and if I’m having a rough night, I am always down to play guitar and If I can lift myself with a solo or riff, it can reignite me and save the show. When we first started, all my solos were composed. I didn’t know how to think like a soloist or improviser; I had to learn as the band went along. Being with Blake for so long, I didn’t really play solos.
After your fourth album, Duane Betts, an old friend of yours, joined the road band and you’ve had another guitarist ever since. Why did you do that?
We just wanted to open up and make the show bigger and Duane is a powerhouse guitarist. He doesn’t mind sinking into the notes instead of just trying to blaze. He can blow your mind with his melodies. He’s so confident that he’s willing to let it marinate in a way that takes a lot of maturity to be cool with. Having him and now Trevor on stage just gives us one more voice to pass the ball to and while they’re very different players, they both add a lot. Griffin and Lee play a ton of LA sessions and they recommended Trevor. There’s something very special about him, with a very angular, jazz approach. He’ll get out and open up new lines.
I think playing with you was also huge for Duane.
He has this thing that I really admire the hell out of… so many guitar players have this guitar slinger thing that I can’t pretend to know how does it. When I listen to Rick from Goose, or Brad Paisley or some of the things that Blake can do, it’s sort of like, this is a different instrument. With Duane, he doesn’t mind sinking into the playing, sinking into the notes. His melodies will be so stunning and that’s what he is blowing your mind with. It’s never not a guitar in his hands and I mean that in the best way; he’s so confident that he’s willing to let it marinate in a way that I think it takes any player a lot of maturity to be cool with.
We knew Duane back in his Backbone days. He was troubled then, so we didn’t get to know him that well, but he was a hero to Blake. And when we got to the point where we wanted another player on stage with us, Blake said, “You should talk to Duane,” whom I hadn’t talked to in years.
Was there ever a consideration that Blake should be that guy?
There were a couple of shows in 2013 for our album Stories Don’t End. We did a show in Santa Barbara, where he was billed to open but we knew all his songs and he knew all of ours, so just did a show together, and every third song we’d do a Blake song. It was one of the most magical nights of music we’d ever experienced… then did it the Wiltern back in LA and I had a conversation with him and asked if he would want to do this with us. I said, “We’ll do your tunes and it will be your tunes as much as ours.” We’ll split the mic.
He was very sweet about it, but was already making waves as a producer, blowing minds and doing what he was mean tto do and he said, “I love playing shows with you guys, but you guys tour a lot and the way I feel about how much I’ll go out there… if you guys were at the mercy of my willingness to tour, it will get ugly.” He had the foresight to do that and said, “Let’s not do that. Let’s stay great friends.” And it really worked for him; the Marcus Mumford album he just put out, the Daisy Jones and the Six show he just oversaw – and we wrote some songs together for that – and all of his amazing albums. He’s right where he wants to be without us guys banging on his door to hit the road for four or six months a year. We’re all getting to that point. It’s pretty intense.
Being a touring band is an intense lifestyle in ways that people don’t really understand.
Yeah, and if we were big enough to be able to only play a handful of shows, then something like that could work, but that ship has sailed. He’s in such a different direction now with the music he’s making with Pino and stuff, that’s so cool.
Playing with Duane I would listen back to some live stuff and I don’t want to pretend that I can compare to Duane because he’s so f’in good, but there were solos that if it weren’t for the fact that I’m a Tele player and he’s a Les Paul player you could mistake us. We have a similar vocabulary… Trevor has this much more angular approach and jazz approach . He’ll get out and I don’t know how he does it. but it feels awesome. It feels like this other lane that we didn’t have. I feel like Duane and I conceived of the arc of a solo in a similar way and Trevor has is very own approach.
He sounds to me like he’s very influenced by Nels Cline.
He loves Nels!
How naturally do you divide up who is going to play what? Is it natural when he is going to jump on a solo, like “Ghost in the Machine.”
On the records it’s always me. He hasn’t been on them. Sometimes live we will divvy up the solos section and sometimes we’ll add a solo. Like on “If I Wanted Someone,” we had a solo for me and Lee and now we have three. On other songs, like “Ghost In The Machine,” if I just know Trevor can take it to outer space in a way that I can’t or whatever. He has a nimble dexterity that I don’t have and that song is really fast and we’re on the I chord, he just has more options at his fingertips. So far, it’s always happened easily and naturally.
If you’re working on a song like that in the studio why wouldn’t you bring him in and go at like you would on stage?
We’ve certainly talked about that very thing but once we’re going, starting to arrange, have the drums set up and sounds dialed in, we’re like, “Let’s just go. Let’s do this!” and rather than leave a hole for solo we can’t even hear, let’s react to each other on the floor. He was very understanding and it just felt natural to forge ahead, even though I know he would have crushed it. It’s just who we are, and what we’re gonna do. That solo was live to the tape.
Seems you’ve been playing more acoustic lately, including acoustic sets live.
Yes. That’s been fun. On the Evening With shows, I’ve been doing some sections myself, ith maybe the guys up for some harmonies or something. That’s such a fun part of the night for me, because I get to try new stuff or revisit old stuff we haven’t played as band in a long time. It’s kind of an experimental part of the night, especially when I try new stuff to see how its working, and make adjustments accordingly
Much of your early music was break up stuff. Is it harder to write now that you’re married and have a family?
It’s just different. I don’t want to write those songs. I have a hard time enjoying those songs and I don’t mean just by me unless it offers some aspect of who someone is and gives me something that brings me back or helps me reprocess an emotion. Sometimes I hear my own older songs and think “Why am I singing about this?” It felt so indiscrete. If I am going to get so personal, I want there to be a point. I’m proud that I wrote those songs, and all my favorite writers have those periods, but I thought it was essential to be able to take on different perspective as well.
“When My Time Comes” is anthemic, with a big sing-along chorus. Were you aware of that power when you wrote it?
Definitely not. It wasn’t even on North Hills. I just had this chorus and guitar riff and a friend of mine heard it after we had finished recording and he said, “You have to finish this and put it on your record because it’s going to be a big deal.” I was doubtful, but I wrote the first verse, and kept insisting on forcing words into the “woah, woah woah” part. I finally gave up and let it be wordless and I didn’t even write the second verse until I was in the studio. That song had so many chances to not be on the record and if it wasn’t, I don’t think we’d still be a band. It became such a big part of the show right away. People who had never heard it immediately started singing along by the last chorus.
When we cut North Hills, the idea of being a full time career was drifting away and I was just happy to have a record to play for my friends at work and I figured we’d be a local band and play when we could. With Simon Dawes and Blake, we all lived together, we toured with Incubus, and it felt like it was moving. Then that ended and I had a regular job at a home warranty insurance place and we played around LA. We all quit our jobs when we got offered an opening slot on a Delta Spirit tour and that song resonated in a short set and led us to a manager and agent. and I really don’t know if that would have changed without “When My Time Comes.”
Griffin is such a good drummer. Is there’s a brothers thing there rhythmically, the way there famously is with harmonies. Like, is your right hand totally attuned to his playing?
I think he plays drums according to the way I sing and play guitar and sing and I play and sing according to the way he plays drums. He holds this band together in a major way. He’s so loyal and committed, even as he’s created this identity which goes way beyond the band – and that’s thrilling to me.
We have different criteria for judging shows, so when he thinks it was too fast, I always think it was the best night and when I think it was too slow, he thinks it was the best night. I’m looking people in the eyes and gauging how much they’re dancing and singing, and he’s listening to us execute and it’s less of an energy thing. I think both of those radars are very important and if I can let myself go, then I can pay attention to both at once – be mindful of the audience engagement and if we are hitting our marks and nailing it. They are not mutually exclusive!
The paperback edition of my fourth book, Brothers and Sisters: the Allman Brothers Band and The Album That Defined The 70s, was recently released by St. Martin’s Press. It was the third consecutive one to debut in the New York Times Non-Fiction Hardcover Bestsellers List, following Texas Flood: The Inside Story of Stevie Ray Vaughan and One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. My first book, Big in China: My Unlikely Adventures Raising a Family, Playing the Blues and Becoming a Star in Beijing, about my experiences raising a family in Beijing and touring China with a popular original blues band, was optioned for a movie by Ivan Reitman’s Montecito Productions. I am also a guitarist and singer with two bands, Big in China and Friends of the Brothers, the premier celebration of the Allman Brothers Band.