Q&A

You guys ask some good questions…

Photo by Max Wanger

At one point in the creative process do you feel closest to the song?

The first part of my answer is a bit obvious: right when I have finished it as a writer but before arranging it with the band. Hopefully my reasoning is a bit more interesting: I think this is when the song has the most potential it’s ever going to have. It’s something I think about a lot when I listen to certain recordings. Let’s take Neil Young and the Eagles as our examples. When I’m listening to Cortez The Killer and I get this feeling of discovery from the entire performance, not only is that pleasing aesthetically, but I also feel like there is an underlying statement to it. Namely, that this is NOT the definitive version of this song. It is a living, breathing thing and this version is as “true” as any live version a fan will eventually hear. This approach seems to put the song before the recording. Or at least separate the two concepts. On the other hand, when I’m listening to Hotel California, the song and the recording feel completely integrated. It’s one thing. There will obviously be live versions, but this version is the plutonic ideal all future versions will have to be mindful of to some degree. This comes from how slick and well-played the song is. You feel a certain degree of intentionality. It is definitive. And despite this kind of thing often being deeply enjoyable, there is less potential for what the song could be. At least to my ears. And I’m saying this as a massive Eagles fan. It’s just a matter of approach. No rights or wrongs. 

Anyway, this is the kind of thing I think about when a song is first finished. It still retains all of its potential. That doesn’t mean it’s in its best form. In fact, it rarely is at this stage. It just means it’s in its most exciting moment for me as the writer. 

Does what you like in a lyric change? Has it changed?

Absolutely. When I was younger and constantly fumbling through some kind of romantic misadventure, I responded most to songs that reflected that experience back to me. I remember while discovering Zevon, hearing songs like Accidentally Like A Martyr and The French Inhaler, thinking “why don’t these records have more of these stone cold heartbreakers?” not fully appreciating the achievement of songs like Roland The Headless Thompson Gunner or even Werewolves Of London. Songs like that require a power of imagination and a level of bravery I just had no concept of. I wanted the sad sappy stuff. 

Now it’s pretty much the opposite. I just want to hear a song and a concept I’ve never heard before and, unfortunately, a lot of the love songs tend to cover some portion of the same ground. That’s obviously not a hard fast rule, and it doesn’t mean I don’t believe in them. I bet most of my favorite songs are love songs, just like everyone else on the planet. It’s just that as a writer I find myself drifting to the 1-of-1s, the songs that introduce a new topic or feeling into the language of songwriting. Songs like Elvis Costello’s Shipbuilding, Benji Hughes’s Neighbor Down The Hall, Randy Newman’s In Germany Before The War or just about anything by Frank Zappa. One of my most recent favorites is a song called When Was The Last Time You Were Home by Paul Spring. There’s obviously room for everything (and thank god for that) but this just happens to be where my ears drift these days. 

As a little postscript to this response - it’s worth saying that that 26 year old love song fan is still regularly woken up by new writers. Specifically, check out the tune Universe by Annika Bennett, fiimy by Winnetka Bowling League or Be Your Boy by Medium Build. 

What were you realistically expecting when you made NH?

Next to nothing. I was fairly pessimistic at that point. I was only 24 but I had already watched my childhood band - my pride and joy, Simon Dawes - break up, and I had already taken a job as a telemarketer for a homeowner’s insurance company. I knew I had a pile of songs I liked, and I knew I wanted to record them to show all my friends. Our newest friend at the time, Jonathan Wilson, helped us make it on a budget. Everything was recorded and mixed in two weeks. We were thrilled. But I was convinced we’d make the record and go right back to our day jobs. Which is what happened for a little while. Of course we dreamed of touring,but had no means of kickstarting that machine. It wasn’t until our old friends Delta Spirit invited us out to be the first of 3 on a nationwide tour (against their manager’s and label’s advice) that we could quit our jobs and get our collective foot in the door. That’s when making the band our job started to feel like a possibility. Funny how still after all this time, I feel like that kid leaving for tour and feeling like it could all come apart at any moment. I always think I’m 3 months away from waiting tables. I objectively know that’s not true, it’s just the gear my brain likes to operate in. I should probably talk to a professional about that. 

How do you approach a shake up in the band lineup? Is it an opportunity for reinvention?

I think it has to be. So many of my favorite bands had serious personnel changes through the years - the Stones, Dire Straits, The Cure, Steely Dan - the list is endless. And while that might obscure some of the romance we tend to project onto bands like U2 or The Band, it gives us fans such delineated chapters of their story. It’s even happened to some degree in Dawes already. We had our era with Tay, our founding keyboardist, followed by our era with Lee. And our next collaborators will contribute to and expand upon our identity just as much as those guys did. We will miss Lee and Wylie deeply. I already do. But our possibilities have never been so limitless and, creatively, I have to be excited about that. I think Lee and Wylie would see it the same way. 

Are there Dawes songs that took a long time to get put on an album/ released and why?

A lot of recording can be like fishing. We get a bite, we can tell that the fish is a big one and then in the midst of the struggle, the line slackens and our catch is gone. But - to continue with this questionable metaphor - sometimes it’s worth going back the next day and trying to battle it out again. Maybe even with the same exact fish.

The first time we recorded Picture Of A Man was for Stories Don’t End (all you substackers that got the vinyl would hopefully know that by now), but it just didn’t jive with the rest of the record. So then we tried it again for All Your Favorite Bands. Griff and I sang a 3 part harmony in the chorus with Gillian Welch. It was a very special moment for us, but still didn’t quite fit the album we were cutting. Then I wrote a new guitar riff that worked with that lyric and we re-arranged it one more time so that it became one of my favorites on We’re All Gonna Die. I always really liked the song. We just hadn’t found the right version. We’ve had this experience with a lot of our songs. Some songs slip through the cracks, which make me feel like they were never good enough to begin with. But some are worth fighting for. So I always like taking a previous album’s rejects (a harsh word for what I mean) and plopping them into the new batch. Even if it takes 3 albums for the song to make the cut.

Thanks for all your questions! I kept it to 5 to keep it from getting too long. But we will for sure do more of these in the future!