This eclectic British metal outfit’s blistering debut generates plenty of light and heat, thanks to contrasting guitarists Rory Kay and David Mena Ferrer.
Darkness, light. Silence, deafening volume. Intuition, intellect. In art, the balance between such contrasts has to be just right. Too stark, and things clash. Not enough, and the work is bland. But when the contrasting forces complement one another as well as guitarists Rory Kay and David Mena Ferrer of In Search of Sun, the creative outlook carries great potential.
Over the last three years, Kay, Ferrer, singer Adam Leader, bassist Faz Couri, and drummer Sean Gorman have worked relentlessly to forge a distinct musical identity. After releasing an EP under the name Driven, the band rechristened itself for the full-length debut The World Is Yours, ahard-rocking rollercoaster full of fluid leads, slamming riffs juxtaposed against plinking, cleanly compressed echoes, and a host of diverse tonal textures—often within a single song. Kay and Ferrer approach their playing and writing from very different mindsets, but their contrasting styles dovetail perfectly on ruthless power riffs, intricate high-speed patterns, and moments of austere beauty.
Roommates as well as bandmates, Ferrer and Kay were in their London flat watching Barcelona play Ajax in a UEFA Champions League match when we connected on Skype—an hour early because I’d screwed up the time. Undaunted, they shut off the TV, grabbed a couple of beers, and cheerfully demonstrated that their accommodating skill sets work as well in conversation as they do on the fretboard.
How did the songs on The World Is Yours develop?
Rory Kay: Most of the songs pretty much started with Dave and me. One of us would be playing a riff and the other one would just play something completely different, and we’d go, “Hold on, there’s some kind of magic happening there.”
David Mena Ferrer: But just because we’re the guitarists doesn’t mean we write all the guitar parts. I could write a vocal line, just as Adam could write a guitar riff. Everyone does everything, so we can get the best out of a song.
It seems like some of these tunes could work in other styles, not just metal. How have you developed as songwriters?
Kay: The EP we did as Driven felt more like a collection of riffs. For this album, it was more like, “This is what’s best for the song” and trying to get the bigger picture across.
Ferrer: “The Eyes Behind I” was kind of influenced by [Dutch DJ] Tiësto and trance music. I listen to quite a bit of trance and get influenced by the repetitiveness of that one line over and over again. If you're in a club, people just want to hear that line over and over again.
Kay: Now we’re even more influenced by that stuff, with what we’re writing at the moment. We come up with a riff, and people are, like, “That’s Daft Punk, man!”
Ferrer: We’ve already got five or six tracks [for the next album]. They’re not finished, but the ideas are there.
Photo by Malcolm Hynds.
How do your arrangements come together?
Kay: We do a lot of pre-production—we’re always recording. We’ll put the guitars into the Mac, and then someone will program some drums to see if it flows as a song. We might jam it in the studio, or one of us might jam with Faz. We keep adding parts. Vocals are
usually last.
Ferrer: Even with the vocals, we’ve been constantly doing preproduction. We had a year-and-a-half to work on [the album]. We constantly worked on the songs to make them better
So you aren’t of the “Write it, play it, print it” school?
Kay: We never really finish a song straight away. There would be countless vocal lines being put online for us to listen to. The song “51 56” had 40 vocal lines!
Ferrer: For about eight months, Adam and I worked together [at the same day job]. And all we would do during breaks would be to sit in his car, put the Mac on, and be like “Right: Vocal lines! Vocal lines!”—just every day for, like, six months.
Kay: I’d be at work and get a phone call, and it would be them. They’d put the phone up to the Mac, and I wouldn’t be able to hear it! [Laughs.]
Ferrer: I remember coming up with the chorus for “51 56.” We were in my car outside Adam’s house until like five in the morning, and we finally came up with it. He went and recorded it in some car park nearby, came back to my house at six, and got me out of bed. I went downstairs and put the headphones on, and we were just smiling. We just couldn’t stop listening to it for months.
Wait—he recorded the vocal in the car?
Kay: Yelling into his Mac! We all went to the car park once. It was outside a doctor’s office, and we’d see some doctor poking his head out the window. For a while, Adam made us get out of the car—he didn’t like singing in front of us—so it would be three dudes standing outside of the car and there’d be this guy inside going “AAAAAARRRRRRRHHHHH!”
Did you record final parts as a group in the studio?
Kay: We didn’t record as a band. There wasn’t space in the studio for that. For the album itself, drums were first: Sean would record to a detailed guide track, bass next, guitars, and then vocals at the end.
Photo by Chloë Faye.
Your individual styles work so well together. How did you develop as players?
Ferrer: I’m self-taught. I don’t know any scales. I don’t know any chords. I just play what I feel—what comes out of my head. I started late: I’m 29 now and began when I was 18. A friend of mine got a bass and he was, like, “Why don’t we start a band?” I’ll be honest with you, man—I literally didn’t know anything about guitar. I was a complete idiot. But I really enjoyed it. The first thing I learned was “Toxicity” by System of a Down, just little riffs like that—really simple stuff. I got really into it.
Kay: I started on classical guitar when I was about 11. I went through all the grades, and I think I did my grade eight by the time I was 15. At that point, I still wasn’t really grabbed by guitar. I enjoyed the stuff I was doing, but all the theory was rubbish. None of it was useful for constructing any kind of music—no context at all—but it obviously helped my fingering. I’d been playing for six years by the time I got an electric. My friend at school was into Iron Maiden and he got a guitar. I went around and played it, and I obviously had to get my own. My mum just got me some Deep Purple and Cream records, the Led Zeppelin II album, and that’s what set me off. I was a complete bedroom guitarist, just playing all night, learning stuff off YouTube. I did go to a university for a year, and that kick-started me into learning scales. But I’m pretty much self-taught when it comes to anything I actually use.
Rory Kay’s Gear
Guitars
2003 Gibson Les Paul Standard with Bare Knuckle Holy Diver (bridge) and Gibson 490R (neck)
’70s or ’80s Epiphone SG
Gibson Custom 1957 Les Paul Goldtop Darkback VOS
ESP M II
Ovation MOB57
Amps
Orange Rockerverb 50 head
Orange 4x12 and 2x12 cabs with Celestion Vintage 30s
Peavey 6505
Marshall 1960B cab
Divided by 13 FTR 37 combo
Effects
Dunlop Cry Baby wah
Electro-Harmonix Clone Theory
HomeBrew Electronics Tramp
Strymon TimeLine
MXR 10-Band EQ
Ibanez TS9 Tube Screamer
ISP Decimator G String
Boss TU-3 tuner
Strings and Picks
Ernie Ball Heavy Top Skinny Bottom strings
Various 1 mm picks
David Mena Ferrer’s Gear
Guitars
Fender Telecaster with Seymour Duncan Pearly Gates (neck) and ’59 (bridge)
Epiphone Les Paul “Black Beauty” with EMG 81 (neck) and 85 (bridge)
Amps
Orange 4x12 and 2x12 cabs with Celestion Vintage 30s
Peavey 6505
Marshall 1960B cab
Divided by 13 FTR 37 combo
Effects
DunlopCry Baby wah
Boss TU-3 tuner
Ibanez TS9 Tube Screamer
Boss NS-2 Noise Suppressor
TC Electronic Nova System
Strings and Picks
Ernie Ball Regular Slinky (Tele)
Ernie Ball Heavy Top Skinny Bottom (Les Paul)
Dunlop 1.38 mm Max-Grip Jazz III picks
Who were your main influences?
Ferrer: Most of my friends were in bands, so my main influences would be the people I grew up with who taught me stuff. When it comes to big names, I’d say Dimebag Darrell is probably my favorite. Man, you don’t get heavier with that much tone. John Frusciante is another favorite. Even though he’s quite simple at times, he makes it sound beautiful. Everything doesn’t have to be really complicated.
Kay: My biggest influences were probably Zakk Wylde and Dimebag, although I could never play anything that Dimebag played—and still can’t [laughs]. I’m also massively influenced by anything blues.
Even though you have some similar influences, your approaches seem pretty different. How do you make them work together?
Kay: Dave might just play something that sounds good to his ear, and I play something that I think might fit, or vice versa.
Ferrer: Sometimes that can be a pain in the ass. The other guys will be like, “What beat [time signature] is that in?” And I honestly don’t know [laughs].
Kay: But we always get there in the end.
Everything sounds so tight.
Kay: That would have to do with the producer, Phil Kinman. He was very meticulous, and that rubbed off on me quite a lot. We wouldn’t move on if it wasn’t perfect. And that’s why it’s so solid.
How did you get that big sound?
Kay: We might not necessarily have been using our own gear. Anything that was riff work—that wall-of-sound stuff—we doubled. We even quad-tracked the heavier stuff. For the more intricate parts, we were mucking about with different guitars, pickups, and amps. A lot of the clean stuff has acoustic guitar on top of it.
Ferrer: We used delays and different sounds, too. I do love my delays, just to create that atmosphere. Like in “In Search of Sun,” we started that song without any delays—just the raw sounds—then we started playing around with delays and got that ping-pong delay that sounded amazing.
What about amps?
Kay: We’ve both got Orange Rockerverb 50s with 4x12 Orange cabs at the moment. For the raw sounds, we went with the Rockerverbs. We also had a Peavey 6505 in the studio. We had to get something out to the PR company, so we did a rough track with the Peavey—and it was more of the metal sound we were after. We wanted a less distorted tone, so we layered the Peavey and the Orange amps. It’s so well recorded that it sounds quite big on the first track, “The World Is Yours.” The difference in the amps really makes the parts blend. We also used a boutique amp called Divided by 13. Its cab has two different speakers and the blend worked really well. When the amp is pushed, it has this really nice crunch to it. We used it on the beginning of “Skin” for that slightly distorted tone. It’s my favorite amp that I’ve ever played. For some of the clean stuff, we used Waves plug-ins and they worked well.
Did you mic the amps as the tracks went down or reamp?
Kay: We recorded all the guitars straight into the producer’s equipment and reamped everything, which is a great way of relaxing and not worrying about the tones. We were monitoring off of plug-ins—I think they were the Line 6 amp modelers that came with Cubase. When we wanted to create feedback, we had to be in the room with the amp, but we saved those parts until the very end.
Photos by Sean Friswell.
What guitars did you use on the album?
Kay: The producer had a lovely Les Paul Standard Goldtop, which I used for most of the solos. We also used my Les Paul. We borrowed a Strat for a lot of the clean tones, which worked really well. We just used anything that worked: For “Skin,” I needed a Floyd Rose, but mine broke before we went to record it. The producer had an ESP—I can’t remember which one. It had these Duncan Designed pickups, but it sounded great.
Did you use your own pedals in the studio?
Kay: There were parts we had to play with wah pedals and stuff. When we reamped, we also used a Tube Screamer, which we use live. For “Idle Crown,” I used my Strymon Timeline in the verse bits. It’s got a really beautiful ice effect—which you can’t really hear unless you put headphones on [laughs].
Ferrer: I have a TC Electronic Nova system, and we used some of the delays and tremolos from that, too. I already had the delays set for live purposes, so I just used them.
Speaking of live, how are you replicating the studio effects onstage?
Ferrer: I pretty much just use the Nova system. For each song, I have my delays and all the things I need, and after every song I press the bottom for the next bank. For some tracks, I’m tap dancing—bam bam bam bam bam. When we first started recording the album, I was like, “How the fuck am I gonna be able to play this live?! I have to press these four things!” [Laughs.] But by practicing, we can just do it without thinking about it.
Kay: We are looking to simplify stuff, but it’s all about money at the end of the day. We live with a guitar tech, and he’s always telling us about these MIDI switching systems where all the stuff is in the rack and you’ve got one board. We’re still quite young in terms of all the equipment we have.
Ferrer: There’s not a place I can go to try new stuff out with your own gear in England. You need to either get it and take the gamble, or borrow something.
Kay: Everything we have we’ve borrowed first.
A lot of the guitar parts on the album sound pretty challenging to play onstage.
Kay: We had to learn to make it work live—we really, really did. The songs were quite hard for us to get across and still have the same energy. We’re known for having a lot of energy. It’s hard to keep that momentum going when you’re standing there staring at your fingers and you’re, like, “Shit, here comes that hard bit!” Literally, practice and playing more gigs …
Ferrer: Practice makes a difference. There are practices where we’re just headbanging, trying to get as much energy as we can. But there’s nothing like playing live. A gig is always going to be different. We’re in the middle of a tour, and we feel a lot more comfortable every show.
Kay: There’s a lot of layered stuff, but parts-wise, nothing really gets left out. In terms of the sound, we obviously can’t replicate everything we did on the album—we don’t have all the same equipment—but we try to make it work. I might use a tremolo or something that I didn’t use on the album because it sounds good live and fills the gaps.
Ferrer: For example, when I play some of the clean parts live I use a Tube Screamer, because it jumps out more. At some of the venues we play, if I just have it clean, you would not be able to hear me. So having that little bit of crunch makes it work.
YouTube It
Hear the complementary tones of David Mena Ferrer’s Tele and Rory Kay’s Les Paul in the title track from their new album.
Given how intricate some of the parts are, is there any room for improvisation?
Kay: Not within the band or the structure of the songs. Solo-wise, I might play something completely different, but we don’t just go out and jam.
Ferrer: We think of the set as a whole show, and we work on it, work on it, work on it until it’s ready. We want to get to a level soon where we can play the songs to a click and have imagery locked in with the music.
Kay: We’ve also started using sounds to fill in the gaps between songs. Right now we’re just using our pedalboards, but we want to get Sean to start using triggers to play samples, too. We’re always looking to big-up the live show as we get ready for bigger stages—instead of being just five dicks running around onstage [laughs].
Pedals, pedals, and more pedals! Enter Stompboxtober Day 13 for your shot at today’s pedal from Electro-Harmonix!
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.
John Mayer Silver Slinky Strings feature a unique 10.5-47 gauge combination, crafted to meet John's standards for tone and tension.
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hese signature sets feature John’s previously unavailable 10.5-47 gauge combination, perfectly tailored to his unique playing style and technique. Each string has been meticulously crafted with specific gauges and core-to-wrap ratios that meet John’s exacting standards, delivering the ideal balance of tone and tension.
The new Silver Slinky Strings are available in a collectible 3-pack tin, a 6-pack box, and as individual sets, offered at retailers worldwide.
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The folk-rock outfit’s frontman Taylor Goldsmith wrote their debut at 23. Now, with the release of their ninth full-length, Oh Brother, he shares his many insights into how he’s grown as a songwriter, and what that says about him as an artist and an individual.
I’ve been following the songwriting of Taylor Goldsmith, the frontman of L.A.-based, folk-rock band Dawes, since early 2011. At the time, I was a sophomore in college, and had just discovered their debut, North Hills, a year-and-a-half late. (That was thanks in part to one of its tracks, “When My Time Comes,” pervading cable TV via its placement in a Chevy commercial over my winter break.) As I caught on, I became fully entranced.
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.”
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Led by Goldsmith, Dawes infuses more rock power into their folk sound live at the Los Angeles Ace Hotel in 2023.
A more affordable path to satisfying your 1176 lust.
An affordable alternative to Cali76 and 1176 comps that sounds brilliant. Effective, satisfying controls.
Big!
$269
Warm Audio Pedal76
warmaudio.com
Though compressors are often used to add excitement to flat tones, pedal compressors for guitar are often … boring. Not so theWarm Audio Pedal76. The FET-driven, CineMag transformer-equipped Pedal76 is fun to look at, fun to operate, and fun to experiment with. Well, maybe it’s not fun fitting it on a pedalboard—at a little less than 6.5” wide and about 3.25” tall, it’s big. But its potential to enliven your guitar sounds is also pretty huge.
Warm Audio already builds a very authentic and inexpensive clone of the Urei 1176, theWA76. But the font used for the model’s name, its control layout, and its dimensions all suggest a clone of Origin Effects’ much-admired first-generation Cali76, which makes this a sort of clone of an homage. Much of the 1176’s essence is retained in that evolution, however. The Pedal76 also approximates the 1176’s operational feel. The generous control spacing and the satisfying resistance in the knobs means fast, precise adjustments, which, in turn, invite fine-tuning and experimentation.
Well-worn 1176 formulas deliver very satisfying results from the Pedal76. The 10–2–4 recipe (the numbers correspond to compression ratio and “clock” positions on the ratio, attack, and release controls, respectively) illuminates lifeless tones—adding body without flab, and an effervescent, sparkly color that preserves dynamics and overtones. Less subtle compression tricks sound fantastic, too. Drive from aggressive input levels is growling and thick but retains brightness and nuance. Heavy-duty compression ratios combined with fast attack and slow release times lend otherworldly sustain to jangly parts. Impractically large? Maybe. But I’d happily consider bumping the rest of my gain devices for the Pedal76.