Not to be confused with their legendary homophonic namesakes The Doors, DAWES also come to us straight outta LA. Not Compton, of course, but not the glitzy, trashy Sunset Strip either. Instead, theirs are the more reflective, rural environs of Laurel Canyon: a haunt favoured by late 60s artistes like Crosby, Stills and of course the ornery Neil Young, whose name often favourably springs to mind whilst listening to this finely-wrought LP.
But let’s backtrack a little. Who exactly is or are DAWES? Well, they’re a talented Roots-Rock quartet grouped around singer/ songwriter Taylor Goldsmith and his drummer brother Griffin. They’ve previously released one album (the warmly-received ‘North Hills’) and this follow-up was produced by Jonathan Wilson (Vetiver/ Jenny Lewis), himself currently riding high on the critical acclaim afforded his solo album ‘Gentle Spirit.’
The provocatively-titled ‘Nothing is Wrong’ will surely appeal to anyone who enjoys their Roots/Americana on the scuffed and emotional side. Recorded live to analogue, their keening West Coast harmonies are garnished with heavy dollops of introspection and feature respected Tom Petty alumnus Benmont Tench riding shotgun on organ and piano. Their shtick is the kinda thing that will delight anyone who loves fiery, passionate Roots trailblazers like The Band, Crazy Horse and The Jayhawks and when you hear a song like ‘Million Dollar Bill’ – drenched in the rural sadness that soaked The Band’s eponymous second – it’s no surprise to hear that Robbie Robertson co-opted them into working as his backing band for his recent promotional shows.
Whether he’s being anthemic and strident (the vintage Californian pop of ‘How Far We’ve Come’, the exhilarating opener ‘Time Spent in Los Angeles’) or coming over all elegant and restrained (the heart-melting balladry of ‘Moon in the Water’), there’s a natural melancholia in Goldsmith’s voice and a nomadic, rootless aspect in his lyrics which ensures ‘Nothing is Wrong’ is a compelling listen. On the sun-up homesick blues of ‘My Way Back Home’ he stockpiles images of strange places and people he’s seen (“A ballerina in Phoenix, the pines up north...the sunrise on a highway that was not there before”), while on the aching ‘So Well’ (“I am a boy, I am a child/ and those simple dreams are still burning in my heart”) he seems to pine for the safety of innocent formative days. The band, meanwhile, respond to the needs of the songs in a versatile fashion, whether they’re bringing a welcome urgency to bittersweet dramas like ‘Fire Away’ or stripping it back on ‘So Well’ and ‘Million Dollar Bill.’
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They bring it all together magnificently on the closing track ‘A Little Bit of Everything’. If I’m reading it right, its’ narrative finds two separate would-be suicides pulling back from the edge and embracing “whatever helps me forget about the things that brought me to my knees.” Gripping and ultimately life-affirming against the longest of odds, it’s a poised and dignified way to bring events to a conclusion and it cements Dawes’ reputation as talented songsmiths that may be proud to uphold the West Coast harmony tradition yet still have plenty to tell us about our lives in the 21st Century. Consider me hooked.
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