Porter has a variety of off-the-shelf and custom instruments, but he's mostly seen onstage with a Fender P bass. He also has one of the first 100 Telecaster basses produced in Fullerton, California. This photo was taken at a Runnin' Pardners show at the original Brooklyn Bowl in 2016.
Every morning at 6:45, bass luminary George Porter Jr.'s late wife's dog, Ms. Vicki, tugs at him to feed her and take her out. That's early as hell for most musicians, but perfectly fine for Porter, because when Ms. Vicki is busy doing number two, Porter is busy getting into his creative zone. In 2020, Porter used that small daily window of time to craft the bass lines for the songs on Crying for Hope, his latest release with his band the Runnin' Pardners.
"While I'm waiting for her to return, I'm tinkering with the bass. I have a pretty big folder of ideas," says Porter, who recorded his sketches straight to Voice Memos using his phone's built-in mic, rather than any sort of interface. "I have that new iPhone 12, so the recording is pretty decent. We actually used the bass lines from the phone recording. Michael [Lemmler, keyboards and vocals in Runnin' Pardners] cleaned it up."
Crying For Hope
TIDBIT: Many of the tracks on Crying for Hope started as sketches Porter recorded with his iPhone, which were then cleaned up and used in the final recordings.
Crying for Hope features a mix of songs that were written in Porter's recent morning meditations and others that were written in 2017. During that earlier period, the band recorded 27 songs with guitarist Brint Anderson, who was a member of Runnin' Pardners for 25 years. Shortly after the recording, Anderson parted ways with Runnin' Pardners and Porter shelved the sessions. Those tracks were seemingly lost in the ether and only resurfaced in May 2020 via a computer foible.
"I started getting messages a few months ago saying that my hard drive was full," recalls Porter. "The computer was new so I was saying, 'It can't be full, that's a 2TB drive. It's not supposed to be full.'" In the middle of doing some detective work, Porter peeked into some folders and happened upon a gold mine of tracks. "I said, 'Oh man, some of this stuff is good. Then I contacted Michael and said, 'Man, you know, I listened to these Runnin' Pardners tracks that we did with Brint, and I think we should bring them back to the table and add Chris Adkins [current Runnin' Pardners guitarist] to the tracks.'"
"I have that new iPhone 12, so the recording is pretty decent. We actually used the bass lines from the phone recording."
The numbers "Porter 13A," "I'm Barely," "Just Start Groovin'," "You Just Got Tired," and "Too Hot Too Cold" were recorded live during the original 2017 sessions. The tracks from the 2020 session were cut separately because of the COVID-19 lockdown, but still have a remarkably live feel. "We were using FaceTime for communication between the musicians, and the sessions were actually recorded up in the cloud using Pro Tools. We would load the tracks up into the cloud and then we were able to record in our individual studios. What pleased me the most about this record is that it doesn't sound like we're all in different studios. It sounds very live. Terrence Houston [drummer] got the tracks after we had totally completed all our parts."
No matter how the tracks were cut, they all have that deep Porter pocket. For decades Porter has been considered the quintessential groove bassist. Interestingly, his first instrument was a classical guitar his mother gave him on Christmas Day as both a Christmas present and an early birthday gift (he was born on December 26). Porter took lessons for two years, working on songs like "Home on the Range" or "Red River Valley." Then one day on the way to a lesson, he came across bassist Benjamin "Poppi" Francis on Robinson Street in his native New Orleans, playing the blues with his grandfather on guitar. That moment changed everything, as Porter got hit with the bug. At a guitar recital, Porter was slated to play a "cowboy" piece but pulled a switcheroo and instead played the bluesy "St. Louis Woman." Infuriated by this, his teacher gave him the boot. This turned out to be a blessing for Porter, as he devoted his time to picking things up from local musicians who would jam all night on the street, around the corner from his home.
George Porter Jr.'s Gear
Photo by Josh Hitchens
Basses & Guitars
- Fender P Bass (1970 body with a 1973 neck)
- Fender Telecaster bass (one of the first 100 made)
- D. Lakin bass refretted by New Orleans' Strange Guitarworks
- Lakland Bob Glaub U.S. Series Custom Shop 44-64 Classic Precision (modeled after the P bass)
- Lakland Bob Glaub Skyline 44-64
- Takamine electric/acoustic guitar
- Alvarez acoustic guitar
Strings
- D'Addario (.055–.065–.085–.105)
Amps & Cabinets
- Two Aguilar Tone Hammer 700 heads
- Aguilar DB 410 cabinet
- Aguilar DB 212 cabinet
Effects
- EBS OctaBass
- EBS UniChorus Studio Edition
- EBS BassIQ Blue Label
- TC Helicon VoiceLive Play
When he was 10, Porter connected with drummer Joseph "Zigaboo" Modeliste and the pair became a fixture on the New Orleans scene. After sitting in with bluesman Earl King, Porter was introduced to vocalist/keyboardist Art Neville by guitarist Herbert Wayne, who sent Porter out as a sub for him one night. Initially, Neville was unimpressed by Porter, calling him "the worst guitar player he ever heard." Neville had sought a lead guitarist and Porter was strictly a rhythm player. Later, Porter switched to bass and Neville caught him on a gig with Irma Thomas, the "Soul Queen of New Orleans." This time, Neville liked what he heard and pegged Porter to form a band. In 1965, with guitarist Leo Nocentelli added to the mix, the Meters were born.
The Meters were among the originators of funk, but offered their own unique New Orleans twist to the sound. They played four-hour gigs for six nights a week at the Ivanhoe Club on Bourbon Street and developed a telepathic musical bond. Later, the Meters became the house band for pianist/songwriter/producer Allen Toussaint and his label, Sansu Enterprises. That glory, however, came with a price in terms of creative freedom. Toussaint dictated the music with a heavy hand, and Porter's bass lines were relegated to mimicking Toussaint's left hand.
Porter suggests the Meters could have possibly been the first jam band, and he might very well be right.
Creative license to roam was the secret to the Meters' success. Porter suggests the Meters could've possibly been the first jam band, and he might very well be right. While the songs on the Meters' albums weren't much longer than three minutes, the band took that material and transformed them into simmering, transcendental marathon shows. It's no wonder their 1969 hit "Cissy Strut," a song that was finally inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 2011, is considered by many to be the ultimate jam tune. The simple opening riff has served as a catalyst for countless epic and endless improv sessions. Now, there are even videos on YouTube where Porter finally puts his foot down and teaches everyone how to actually play the opening riff correctly.
Throughout the '70s, the Meters recorded eight albums and were held in high esteem by music royalty. Paul McCartney invited them to play at his Venus and Mars release party in 1975, on the Queen Mary, in Long Beach, California, and Mick Jagger was in attendance. This led to the Meters being asked to open for the Rolling Stones for both their 1975 American and 1976 European tours. However, this opening slot was not quite the dream gig you might expect. Hardcore Stones fans typically hate any opening act, and at a 1976 gig in Europe, the Meters had stuff thrown at them. During this incident, Jagger and Keith Richards had to come out and quiet the crowd. One positive highlight about the Rolling Stones saga for Porter was that, at one show, Eric Clapton urged the Stones to do an encore, which they usually didn't do. The Stones' bassist, Bill Wyman, had already left, so Porter got to sit in.
With their emergence in 1965, the Meters simultaneously began a course that would influence the history of New Orleans' music, soul, pop, and rock 'n' roll. The Meters on Saturday Night Live in New York City in 1977. Left to right: David Batiste Sr., George Porter Jr., Zigaboo Modeliste, and Leo Nocentelli.
Photo by Ebet Roberts
In 1977, the Meters disbanded after conflicts over ownership of the band's name (although the original members reunited for sporadic events from 2000 on). Years later, after a jam session at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival, the Funky Meters were formed, and that band saw Porter, Neville, drummer Russell Batiste Jr., and Brian Stoltz (who replaced Nocentelli) taking more of a funk-rock approach, with Hendrix tunes being part of the repertoire.
Porter also formed Joyride, a band that he played with through most of the 1980s, and Runnin' Pardners, in 1990. By this time, Porter had developed a massive reputation in the music world and was called to collaborate and record by the likes of Tori Amos, David Byrne, Albert King, Robert Palmer, and Patti LaBelle. Porter's iconic P bass can be heard on classic albums like Palmer's Sneakin' Sally Through the Alley (1974) and classic songs like LaBelle's "Lady Marmalade." In addition to his main bands, Porter is also a prominent figure in the jam-band scene and has played with John Scofield, Eric Krasno, and the Tedeschi Trucks Band. He and the Meters received the Grammys' Lifetime Achievement Award in 2018.
Although he started on guitar, George Porter Jr.'s shift to bass proved to be a historic decision, defining the bottom end of New Orleans groove music and shaping the character of funk bass.
Photo by Michael Weintrob, Instrumenthead.com
Even though Porter has reached immortal status in the bass world, he's still relentless in his pursuit of the musical truth. He religiously documents every performance he can. "I have a little Zoom H4n, and I record, like, 100 percent of the shows that I'm in control of. It has four inputs, so I take two channels from the desk and the two ambient mics that's on the front of the H4, and every night I record four tracks. I have three 2TB hard drives that are full, and I'm working on trying to categorize the different gigs to a 4TB drive. I'm trying to gather all the Funky Meters shows that I have, all of the Runnin' Pardners shows that I have, all of the Porter trio shows that I have, and all the jam bands that I played in, and I'm putting them in. I've got that drive divided into four pieces."
Porter's archive is a constant source of study for him. "When I get off the gig and something happened that night, more than likely the next morning that gig is on the computer behind me, and I'm finding what that thing was." And if something really magical occurred, Porter might not even wait until the sun rises. "Before my wife [Aralean] passed away, I actually used to come home from the gig and sit down in the driveway and listen to the last set in the car. I usually would get to the house about 2:30 a.m. and I would sit out there for 45 minutes and, you know, usually my wife might call up and say, 'Hey, the music's too loud!'"
George Porter & The Runnin' Pardners "Cryin' For Hope" 4.16.21 Suwannee Surprise
"Crying for Hope," the title track of George Porter Jr.'s latest release, explores themes of social justice. The song started from some noodling Porter recorded on an acoustic bass into his iPhone during the morning as his late wife's dog, Ms. Vicki, took care of her business. The tune started off as an instrumental, but after the George Floyd incident, Porter says he was compelled to "cry for hope." Here, the bassist and his krewe perform it at an outdoor venue near Live Oak, Florida.
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Electro-Harmonix Hell Melter Distortion Pedal
With its take on the cult-classic, chainsaw distortion pedal, the EHX Hell Melter takes distortion to its extremes. The Hell Melter features expanded controls and tonal capabilities, allowing the already in-your-face sound of the pedal to broaden by switching to more open clipping options and boosting the internal voltage for increased headroom, less compression, and more attack.
Originally designed as the ultimate in high-gain tone, this world-famous distortion circuit is known for the death metal sounds of Sweden’s Entombed and the shoegaze wash of My Bloody Valentine. It’s even found a home in the rig of David Gilmour!
The EHX Hell Melter’s expanded control set includes Gain and Level controls, and a powerful active EQ featuring with parametric mids for improved versatility. The Dry level control allows for blending your input signal for improved low-end when used with a bass or even blending in other distorted tones.
Boost Footswitch engages an input gain boost and volume boost which is internally adjustable. The Normal/Burn switch toggles between the classic chainsaw sound and the more open clipping option.
For the first time in the band’s history, the Dawes lineup for Oh Brother consisted of just Griffin and Taylor Goldsmith (left and right).
Goldsmith’s lyrics spoke to me the loudest, with lines like “Well, you can judge the whole world on the sparkle that you think it lacks / Yes, you can stare into the abyss, but it’s starin’ right back” (a casual Nietzsche paraphrase); and “Oh, the snowfall this time of year / It’s not what Birmingham is used to / I get the feeling that I brought it here / And now I’m taking it away.” The way his words painted a portrait of the sincere, sentimental man behind them, along with his cozy, unassuming guitar work and the band’s four-part harmonies, had me hooked.
Nothing Is Wrong and Stories Don’t End came next, and I happily gobbled up more folksy fodder in tracks like “If I Wanted,” “Most People,” and “From a Window Seat.” But 2015’s All Your Favorite Bands, which debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard Folk Albumschart, didn’t land with me, and by the time 2016’s We’re All Gonna Die was released, it was clear that Goldsmith had shifted thematically in his writing. A friend drew a thoughtful Warren Zevon comparison to the single, “When the Tequila Runs Out”—a commentary on vapid, conceited, American-socialite party culture—but it still didn’t really do it for me. I fell off the Dawes train a bit, and became somewhat oblivious to their three full-lengths that followed.
Oh Brotheris Goldsmith’s latest addition to the Dawes songbook, and I’m grateful to say that it’s brought me back. After having done some catching up, I’d posit that it’s the second work in the third act, or fall season, of his songwriting—where 2022’s Misadventures of Doomscrollercracked open the door, Oh Brother swings it wide. And it doesn’t have much more than Dawes’ meat and potatoes, per se, in common with acts one or two. Some moodiness has stayed—as well as societal disgruntlement and the arrangement elements that first had me intoxicated. But then there’s the 7/4 section in the middle of “Front Row Seat”; the gently unwinding, quiet, intimate jazz-club feel of “Surprise!”; the experimentally percussive, soft-spoken “Enough Already”; and the unexpected, dare I say, Danny Elfman-esque harmonic twists and turns in the closing track, “Hilarity Ensues.”
The main engine behind Dawes, the Goldsmith brothers are both native “Angelinos,” having been born and raised in the L.A. area. Taylor is still proud to call the city his home.
Photo by Jon Chu
“I have this working hypothesis that who you are as a songwriter through the years is pretty close to who you are in a dinner conversation,” Goldsmith tells me in an interview, as I ask him about that thematic shift. “When I was 23, if I was invited to dinner with grownups [laughs], or just friends or whatever, and they say, ‘How you doin’, Taylor?’ I probably wouldn’t think twice to be like, ‘I’m not that good. There’s this girl, and … I don’t know where things are at—can I share this with you? Is that okay?’ I would just go in in a way that’s fairly indiscreet! And I’m grateful to that version of me, especially as a writer, because that’s what I wanted to hear, so that’s what I was making at the time.
“But then as I got older, it became, ‘Oh, maybe that’s not an appropriate way to answer the question of how I’m doing.’ Or, ‘Maybe I’ve spent enough years thinking about me! What does it feel like to turn the lens around?’” he continues, naming Elvis Costello and Paul Simon as inspirations along the way through that self-evolution. “Also, trying to be mindful of—I had strengths then that I don’t have now, but I have strengths now that I didn’t have then. And now it’s time to celebrate those. Even in just a physical way, like hearing Frank Zappa talking about how his agility as a guitar player was waning as he got older. It’s like, that just means that you showcase different aspects of your skills.
“I am a changing person. It would be weird if I was still writing the same way I was when I was 23. There would probably be some weird implications there as to who I’d be becoming as a human [laughs].”
Taylor Goldsmith considers Oh Brother, the ninth full-length in Dawes’ catalog, to be the beginning of a new phase of Dawes, containing some of his most unfiltered, unedited songwriting.
Since its inception, the engine behind Dawes has been the brothers Goldsmith, with Taylor on guitar and vocals and Griffin on drums and sometimes vocal harmonies. But they’ve always had consistent backup. For the first several years, that was Wylie Gelber on bass and Tay Strathairn on keyboards. On We’re All Gonna Die, Lee Pardini replaced Strathairn and has been with the band since. Oh Brother, however, marks the departure of Gelber and Pardini.
“We were like, ‘Wow, this is an intense time; this is a vulnerable time,’” remarks Goldsmith, who says that their parting was supportive and loving, but still rocked him and Griffin. “You get a glimpse of your vulnerability in a way that you haven’t felt in a long time when things are just up and running. For a second there, we’re like, ‘We’re getting a little rattled—how do we survive this?’”
They decided to pair up with producer Mike Viola, a close family friend, who has also worked with Mandy Moore—Taylor’s spouse—along with Panic! At the Disco, Andrew Bird, and Jenny Lewis. “[We knew that] he understands all of the parameters of that raw state. And, you know, I always show Mike my songs, so he was aware of what we had cookin’,” says Goldsmith.
Griffin stayed behind the kit, but Taylor took over on bass and keys, the latter of which he has more experience with than he’s displayed on past releases. “We’ve made records where it’s very tempting to appeal to your strengths, where it’s like, ‘Oh, I know how to do this, I’m just gonna nail it,’” he says. “Then there’s records that we make where we really push ourselves into territories where we aren’t comfortable. That contributed to [Misadventures of Doomscroller] feeling like a living, breathing thing—very reactive, very urgent, very aware. We were paying very close attention. And I would say the same goes for this.”
That new terrain, says Goldsmith, “forced us to react to each other and react to the music in new ways, and all of a sudden, we’re exploring new corners of what we do. I’m really excited in that sense, because it’s like this is the first album of a new phase.”
“That forced us to react to each other and react to the music in new ways, and all of a sudden, we’re exploring new corners of what we do.”
In proper folk (or even folk-rock) tradition, the music of Dawes isn’t exactly riddled with guitar solos, but that’s not to say that Goldsmith doesn’t show off his chops when the timing is right. Just listen to the languid, fluent lick on “Surprise!”, the shamelessly prog-inspired riff in the bridge of “Front Row Seat,” and the tactful, articulate line that threads through “Enough Already.” Goldsmith has a strong, individual sense of phrasing, where his improvised melodies can be just as biting as his catalog’s occasional lyrical jabs at presumably toxic ex-girlfriends, and just as melancholy as his self-reflective metaphors, all the while without drawing too much attention to himself over the song.
Of course, most of our conversation revolves around songwriting, as that’s the craft that’s the truest and closest to his identity. “There’s an openness, a goofiness—I even struggle to say it now, but—an earnestness that goes along with who I am, not only as a writer but as a person,” Goldsmith elaborates. “And I think it’s important that those two things reflect one another. ’Cause when you meet someone and they don’t, I get a little bit weirded out, like, ‘What have I been listening to? Are you lying to me?’” he says with a smile.
Taylor Goldsmith's Gear
Pictured here performing live in 2014, Taylor Goldsmith has been the primary songwriter for all of Dawes' records, beginning with 2009’s North Hills.
Photo by Tim Bugbee/Tinnitus Photography
Guitars
- Fender Telecaster
- Gibson ES-345
- Radocaster (made by Wylie Gelber)
Amps
- ’64 Fender Deluxe
- Matchless Laurel Canyon
Effects
- 29 Pedals EUNA
- Jackson Audio Bloom
- Ibanez Tube Screamer with Keeley mod
- Vintage Boss Chorus
- Vintage Boss VB-2 Vibrato
- Strymon Flint
- Strymon El Capistan
Strings
- Ernie Ball .010s
In Goldsmith’s songwriting process, he explains that he’s learned to lean away from the inclination towards perfectionism. Paraphrasing something he heard Father John Misty share about Leonard Cohen, he says, “People think you’re cultivating these songs, or, ‘I wouldn’t deign to write something that’s beneath me,’ but the reality is, ‘I’m a rat, and I’ll take whatever I can possibly get, and then I’ll just try to get the best of it.’
“Ever since Misadventures of Doomscroller,” he adds, “I’ve enjoyed this quality of, rather than try to be a minimalist, I want to be a maximalist. I want to see how much a song can handle.” For the songs on Oh Brother, that meant that he decided to continue adding “more observations within the universe” of “Surprise!”, ultimately writing six verses. A similar approach to “King of the Never-Wills,” a ballad about a character suffering from alcoholism, resulted in four verses.
“The economy of songwriting that we’re all taught would buck that,” says Goldsmith. “It would insist that I only keep the very best and shed something that isn’t as good. But I’m not going to think economically. I’m not going to think, ‘Is this self-indulgent?’
Goldsmith’s songwriting has shifted thematically over the years, from more personal, introspective expression to more social commentary and, at times, even satire, in songs like We’re All Gonna Die’s “When the Tequila Runs Out.”
Photo by Mike White
“I don’t abide that term being applied to music. Because if there’s a concern about self-indulgence, then you’d have to dismiss all of jazz. All of it. You’d have to dismiss so many of my most favorite songs. Because in a weird way, I feel like that’s the whole point—self-indulgence. And then obviously relating to someone else, to another human being.” (He elaborates that, if Bob Dylan had trimmed back any of the verses on “Desolation Row,” it would have deprived him of the unique experience it creates for him when he listens to it.)
One of the joys of speaking with Goldsmith is just listening to his thought processes. When I ask him a question, he seems compelled to share every backstory to every detail that’s going through his head, in an effort to both do his insights justice and to generously provide me with the most complete answer. That makes him a bit verbose, but not in a bad way, because he never rambles. There is an endpoint to his thoughts. When he’s done, however, it takes me a second to realize that it’s then my turn to speak.
To his point on artistic self-indulgence, I offer that there’s no need for artists to feel “icky” about self-promotion—that to promote your art is to celebrate it, and to create a shared experience with your audience.
“I hear what you’re saying loud and clear; I couldn’t agree more,” Goldsmith replies. “But I also try to be mindful of this when I’m writing, like if I’m going to drag you through the mud of, ‘She left today, she’s not coming back, I’m a piece of shit, what’s wrong with me, the end’.... That might be relatable, that might evoke a response, but I don’t know if that’s necessarily helpful … other than dragging someone else through the shit with me.
“In a weird way, I feel like that’s the whole point—self-indulgence. And then obviously relating to someone else, to another human being.”
“So, if I’m going to share, I want there to be something to offer, something that feels like: ‘Here’s a path that’s helped me through this, or here’s an observation that has changed how I see this particular experience.’ It’s so hard to delineate between the two, but I feel like there is a difference.”
Naming the opening track “Mister Los Angeles,” “King of the Never-Wills,” and even the title track to his 2015 chart-topper, “All Your Favorite Bands,” he remarks, “I wouldn’t call these songs ‘cool.’ Like, when I hear what cool music is, I wouldn’t put those songs next to them [laughs]. But maybe this record was my strongest dose of just letting me be me, and recognizing what that essence is rather than trying to force out certain aspects of who I am, and force in certain aspects of what I’m not. I think a big part of writing these songs was just self-acceptance,” he concludes, laughing, “and just a whole lot of fishing.”
YouTube It
Led by Goldsmith, Dawes infuses more rock power into their folk sound live at the Los Angeles Ace Hotel in 2023.