Mustering an army of guitars, amps, and stompboxes, this dirt-pedal fiend explores the frontiers of blues on his new album, Everybody Wants to Go to Heaven.
Like all great blues records, Peter Parcek’s powerful new album Everybody Wants to Go to Heaven cuts close to the bone. Yet, from the opening track—a gut-punch rendition of Peter Green’s “World Keep on Turning”—Parcek takes us on a two-way journey. One direction is back to the deep emotion that defines the truest blues of every era; the other is forward into a modern sonic approach with which he breaks blues conventions without dishonoring them.
“I wanted to try something that seems impossible when you say it out loud,” Parcek admitted when PG spoke to him on the phone. “I wanted the rawness of the blues—the rootedness, if you will—but I also wanted it to be contemporary.”
In this case, “contemporary” didn’t just mean using modern effects or production and arranging techniques. It also means “of the moment” emotionally. Parcek wrote and recorded Everybody Wants to Go to Heaven in the aftermath of his mother’s death, simultaneously mourning his loss and celebrating her life. These feelings were close to the surface throughout the making of the record, which was recorded in Nashville and near Parcek’s Boston-area home, and remained raw when we spoke months later.
The connection between Parcek, the blues, and his mother goes back to his musical awakening as a kid growing up in the 1960s. He first heard Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, Albert Collins, and other heroes through the crackle of AM radio—listening at night when Southern stations could reach his New England bedroom.
Eventually, it inspired him to express himself through music. “When I was in high school, my mom saved up Green Stamps to get me a nylon-string guitar,” he recalls. “I also began playing harmonica, and early on made more progress on the harp.”
In his late teens, Parcek moved to London in the mid ’60s and discovered a whole community of musicians who shared his obsession with the blues. “I’d go see players like Clapton and Peter Green all the time,” he says. That’s when he began to get serious about performing. “Back then, there were so many great British blues guitarists that I focused on vocals and harp,” he says. “I didn’t really get serious about the guitar until I came back to the States.”
He found work as a sideman (most notably with blues piano legend Pinetop Perkins), bandleader, and, eventually, as a solo artist who always seemed willing to infuse his blues with a little something off the menu. Fast forward more than four decades, and Parcek has tapped into something that Peter Green did so eloquently in his days as Fleetwood Mac’s talisman: bringing forward the blues without being imprisoned by purism. On the sequel to his national debut album, 2010’s Blues Music Award-nominated The Mathematics of Love, Parcek is aided by producer/percussionist Marco Giovino—of Robert Plant’s Band of Joy—as he paints his blues with tonal colors ranging from earthy to ethereal, and puts his signature on the style using dazzling chromatic runs, elegant bent notes, grizzled and soaring tones, and a variety of influences from Wes Montgomery to Django Reinhardt. But even when he’s constructing distant ambient soundscapes on songs like Blind Lemon Jefferson’s “See That My Grave Is Kept Clean” and his own “Every Drop of Rain,” the emotional truth remains close. And, of course, the pounding pulse of “Ashes to Ashes,” the raw drive of “Things Fall Apart,” and the playful instrumental romps “Mississippi Suitcase” and “Shiver” show plenty blues bona fides. As a contemporary once said of Green, it’s the “blues feeling” that’s important. And on Everybody Wants to Go to Heaven, that feeling is abundant, deep, and visceral.
If I had to pick two words to describe Everybody Wants to Go to Heaven, they’d be “lush” and “raw.” That’s a pretty unusual combination. Was that your intention?
Some of this is very personal. I hadn’t made a record for a while. I didn’t have the budget. And in the midst of that, my mom passed away. One way that artists react to deep loss is to create from it, in honor of it. Songs like “Every Drop of Rain” and “Ashes to Ashes” started to come through, and they were really in honor of her. So thematically, we’re talking about mortality, aging, impermanence, and loss.
TIDBIT: Guitarist Luther Dickinson and bassist Dennis Crouch were drafted to play on the album's Nashville sessions.
That comes across in a lot of places, but you break away from those themes, too.
Well, early versions of the record were just unrelievedly about loss. It struck me that I needed to give listeners a breath—something fun, but still, hopefully, deep and rooted. So that’s where some of the instrumentals came from. If you only do the themes we were just discussing, you’ve only got one palette. But if you include playful moments in the correct way, then it works.
And it’s more true to the person when you include the fuller spectrum, emotionally. Particularly because, all along, my mother was incredibly supportive of my music—from buying me my first guitar to helping me get to London to everything after that. The album feels truer as a tribute because it has emotional range. I’m really proud of that.
The instrumentals give you a chance to stretch out on the guitar a bit.
I also used them to pay tribute to some great guitar players I adore. “Shiver” is basically an homage to Albert Collins. “Pat Hare”—even though it’s not a mimic of one of his records—is a tribute to him.
“Mississippi Suitcase” was inspired by a cab ride in Memphis. The cabbie talked the whole ride. He started telling me about his son and his ex-wife. And when he got onto his ex-wife, he said, “We broke up. She got everything, and I threw all my clothes in a Mississippi suitcase and got out of there.” I said, “What's a Mississippi suitcase?” and he just laughed: “Oh, you’re from the north! A Mississippi suitcase is a green Hefty bag!” [Laughs.] So I tried to put some John Lee Hooker in there, and there’s almost a “Tom Waits falling down the stairs” sort of vibe. But with the instrumentals, I started to feel like we had a complete album, with the depth of the blues, but with the playful thing, too.
How did the band come together?
I was very lucky to have Marco as the producer and percussionist on the record. All the basics were done at Marco’s house, which, at the time, was in Nashville. He assembled the band, mainly Dennis Crouch and Dominic John Davis [both on bass] and Luther Dickinson [guitar], who were brilliant. Luther throws it down as great as anybody, but he’ll mix it up with you and have fun. He’s on “Shiver,” “Ashes to Ashes,” the title track, and “Pat Hare,” as is Mickey Raphael [harmonica]. On “See That My Grave Is Kept Clean,” and “Mississippi Suitcase” we did the overdubs up here in Massachusetts, with a local lap steel player named Andy Santospago.
Parcek, playing his 2004 Fender 50th Anniversary Strat, leans into his amps for feedback at the Spire Center for the Performing Arts in Plymouth, Massachusetts, while supported by Everybody Wants to Go to Heaven producer Marco Giovino behind the drums. Photo by Denise Maccaferri
Earlier, I used “lush” to describe the album’s sound, but that’s only one way the tones stray from blues norms. What pushed you in different directions?
I didn’t want to just mimic a record from the 1950s. To me, those records are already there and are as good as it’s ever gonna get. I wanted that depth, but hopefully from my own perspective and with elements more of this era. So we used a number of drum loops and modern tones.
Some of the song ideas also came from mental challenges. For example, I was reading about Michelangelo, so I started thinking, “What would Michelangelo sing if he had the blues?” I was reading quotes of his, and I have to admit that I stole a couple of them. It struck me that you can stretch your abilities and your consciousness in a very natural way just by imagining something you haven’t tried before.
How did that thinking influence your approach to tones and textures?
Two examples occur to me right away: “Every Drop of Rain” and “Everybody Wants to Go to Heaven.” On “Every Drop of Rain,” the foundation guitar, which was played live, was pretty heavily effected—almost ambient. That sound was achieved by using a little Swart Atomic Space Tone amp and a Strymon Flint pedal. I had the reverb and decay up pretty high on the Flint, along with some tremolo. I dubbed a second guitar on top of it, but having the ambient guitar as the basic track created this gauzy, filmic thing. That song is dedicated to my mother—which informed the guitar approach and the vocal.
On “Everybody Wants to Go to Heaven,” Luther was playing slide, and my foundational guitar had this pretty extreme tremolo. Both Marco and I believe that if you’re going to have an effect, then really push it—take chances with it. So there’s a lot of intensity in terms of the tremolo setting. That was a brownface Fender Deluxe. It makes you play differently. You don’t need as many notes, but the notes do more because of the effect.
Conversely, your guitar on “World Keep on Turning” is raw and guttural. How did you get that sound?
Well, I have a problem. I have an addiction to pedals, especially filth or dirt pedals. I just can’t get enough of them [laughs]. It’s kinda sad! That tone is a pedal by BMF called The Great Wide Open—because it is great when you just turn it up wide open. It’s dimed through either a Headstrong Lil’ King or the Atomic Space Tone amp. We laid down a second guitar related to it, but hopefully with a different signature sound.
I was lucky in that I had some great amps in Nashville. Buddy Miller lent us the Atomic Space Tone and Lil’ King. He’s an amazing guy. Up here [in Massachusetts], I used a Carr Skylark and way too many pedals—from the Strymon and the BMF to various Lovepedal and J. Rockett pedals. I have not met many drive pedals I don’t like, but there are a lot of ambient pedals I’m very fond of, too. Mr. Black makes some cool stuff, too. I like that guy.
The backing track from “See That My Grave Is Kept Clean” feels very non-traditional. How was that recorded?
We actually used two of Marco’s percussion loops and one guitar. I played an Ibanez George Benson through the brownface Deluxe with tremolo, which, by itself, creates the atmosphere. We built everything around that. Brownface Fenders are somewhat overlooked amps. People usually talk about tweeds and blackfaces, but the browns … oh my god—they’re incredible! This Deluxe sounds really good at lower volume, but if you push it, it almost starts to sound like it’s going to early Marshall-ville.
Listeners don’t usually associate drum loops with tremolo-driven blues guitar.
These were all signature Marco Giovino loops. Our engineer, Ducky Carlisle, who’s done a lot of the latter-day Buddy Guy records, is also a drummer. He heard two of Marco’s loops and suggested we put them together. It creates this huge and, I think, interesting sound. That was a different way of working, but it was fun to play along to the loops. The lead guitar is through a tweed Princeton. So we had an embarrassment of riches in the amp department.
Guitars
1960s Gibson ES-330
1950s Harmony Stratotone
2004 Fender 50th Anniversary Stratocaster
2014 Fender 60th Anniversary Stratocaster
Xotic California XSC-2
Fender Custom Shop Telecaster Jr.
Fender Telebration Cabronita
Tom Anderson Hollow-T
Ibanez George Benson GB-10
Epiphone ES-335
Dean Thin Body Electric Brass Resonator
Amps
Carr Skylark 1x12 combo with Celestion A-Type speaker
Swart Atomic Space Tone with 12" Eminence Red White and Blues speaker
Headstrong Lil' King with 12" Eminence GA10-SC64
Brownface Fender Deluxe with stock 12" speaker
Brownface Fender Princeton with stock 10" speaker
1950s tweed Princeton with stock 10" speaker
Top Hat Club Royale with Celestion G12H30 12" speaker
Vintage Supro Thunderbolt with stock 15" speaker
Marshall 50-watt plexi with basketweave 4x12 cab, stock speakers
Effects
Vintage Ibanez TS9 Tube Screamer
BMF Effects The Great Wide Open
Keeley D&M Drive
Keeley Red Dirt
Lovepedal Tchula boost
Lovepedal Eternity Burst overdrive
Greer Ghetto Stomp overdrive
Fulltone Plimsoul overdrive/distortion
Fulltone OCD overdrive
Jetter GS 124 overdrive
Catlinbread Dirty Little Secret overdrive
Xotic Soul Driven
Ramble FX Marvel Drive
Strymon Flint reverb
Strings, Picks, and Slides
Dunlop light gauge (.009-.042) on S- and T-style guitars
D'Addario light gauge (.010-.046) on Gibson-scale guitars
D'Addario medium gauge (.011-.049) for slide and down-tuned guitars
Wegen Big City 1.8 mm
Rocky Mountain Slides
What are your main guitars?
I’m definitely a Fender-style player. I love Strats and Teles. I have a Harmony Stratotone solidbody that I play slide on, which I love. The slide guitar on “Ashes to Ashes” is an Epiphone 335; it sounds great. I have a Tom Anderson Hollow-T, which I love. I have an Xotic California XSC-2, which is a great guitar. As you can tell, I have a problem not only with pedals, but with guitars and amps, too! [Laughs.] But it lets you do some sonic exploration, which I think is all to the good.
Speaking of exploring, your soloing style doesn’t always stay with the usual blues scales and licks. Is that something you try to avoid?
Yes, it is. For a while, I would put structures on myself, like: Do not use this phrase. Or if you do, do it backwards or sideways. It’s really out of respect. It’s been done by the greats at the highest level. So even if you do it well, and it feels good, there would be very little original in it.
You don’t worry about breaking blues conventions?
To me, the emotion is there, for better or for worse—you like it or you don’t. I think that even with the highest-level players, everybody falls back on stuff that you love. I went “bad” a long time ago, listening to George Benson and Pat Martino [laughs]. And lately, I’ve gone further off by listening to a lot of Gypsy music, which is incredibly demanding and virtuosic.
So Gypsy guitar influences your approach to the blues?
That’s in there, for sure. I’ve taken a couple of lessons from Sammy Daussat, and he’s like, “the secret to gypsy rhythm is … beer!” I like to practice to Gypsy backing tracks. I play the melody and improvise solos against them. If I practice something really difficult but I make it through, it really helps me when I go to play other things.
Do you record your solos live?
Usually, yes. “World Keep on Turning” was live. “Things Fall Apart” was mostly live except a bit at the end. “Pat Hare” was, too, though there were multiple guitar dubs as well. “Shiver” is another one. But I’m really self-critical. I always think I can do it better or make it more emotive. So even if I’ve laid down something good, you’ve got to convince me of it. Sometimes I convince myself by trying to beat the live solo and discovering that I can’t [laughs]. One of the many funny things about working with Marco Giovino is that he had a bullhorn. If I was doing an overdub, he’d get on the bullhorn and yell, “Try not to suck this time!” It’s kind of a combination of love and abuse.
Did you improvise your solos?
Oh yeah, everything. Sometimes during a gig, I might play the solo that’s on the album, but that’s after the fact. That’s one of the joys to me—just winging it. On this album, the only exception was “Every Drop of Rain.” Marco said, “Look, I know you don’t like to repeat things, but please do me a favor and repeat some phrases in those sections.” He wanted the repetition to drive home the emotion.
What’s your mindset when you improvise in the studio?
I feel like the best I play is when I’m relaxed, not trying too hard, and barely thinking at all but reacting to, and emotionally in tune with, the track. When I overthink it, or when I go, “I’ve to get these intervals in here, gotta try this scale there,” it usually feels artificial to me. The solo that resonates emotionally is the one to keep.
Everybody Wants to Go to Heaven seems like the culmination of so many things … from your early blues influences to your London period to everything that came afterwards. As a songwriter, singer, and guitarist, where do you go from here?
I’m still learning. If you listen to blues greats like Albert Collins, Freddie King, B.B. King, Albert King, Fred McDowell, Robert Johnson, Son House, and mash them up with people like Django Reinhardt, Biréli Lagrène, and Stochelo Rosenberg, and practice any or all of that when you go to improvise, it’s going to inform what you’re doing—if you can relax enough to let it come through.
So listening to the greats opens creative doors?
Listening is just as important when you’re playing with your band. On this album, Marco and the band that he assembled were all such great musicians. When you play with great musicians, if you just listen to what they’re doing, then it can’t help but inspire you to play something fresh.
This nuanced performance of the title track from Peter Parcek's new album was captured live at Boston's Red Star Union in 2013. With his 2004 Fender 50th Anniversary Stratocaster running in stereo through a pair of vintage Fender Princetons—a brownface and a tweed—Parcek fully explores the song's emotional landscape, playing lush single-note melodies, graceful bends, octave chords, dirty blues licks, and ending in a cloudburst of feedback.
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.