After a lengthy hiatus, St. Blues Guitars have returned to Memphis. This small company formed in 1985 only survived four short years, despite providing firepower for some of the biggest names in the business, including Eric Clapton, Albert King and Billy Gibbons. Those who knew about the early St. Blues guitars realized it was only a matter of time before the brand would be resurrected. Fittingly, it all started across the street from the original Memphis institution, Graceland. The custom work that Charles Lawing and Tom Keckler were doing at Mike Ladd''s Guitar City in the late sixties, on what is now Elvis Presley Boulevard, was a powerful magnet for musicians touring through Memphis. When Led Zeppelin came stateside, Jimmy Page had them overhaul one of his guitars. He was so impressed by their work he asked them to refurbish all of his instruments, and the buzz continued to spread. The two even built a one-of-a-kind guitar as a gift to Elvis from his father, which he can be seen playing in Aloha from Hawaii.
The original Bluesmaster, the signature St. Blues model, was designed by Lawing and Keckler before Keckler left to help start Schecter Guitars in Los Angeles. For years, the unique shape, classic vintage appearance and playability of the Bluesmasters on display at Strings & Things in Memphis drew a lot of interest from passing guitarists, which led to the creation of the St. Blues guitar line in 1985. The guitars were a critical smash, but a lack of capital forced the founders to shelve the line in 1989.
Not surprisingly, interest in St. Blues never waned; in 2005, with a new group of Memphis entrepreneurs determined to resuscitate that same gritty Memphis soul, St. Blues was reborn. With the return of the original Bluesmaster, plus a handful of other uniquely conceived models, St. Blues is poised to make guitarists everywhere think twice before their next puchase. This month, we''ll be giving the Mississippi Bluesmaster and the 61 South a test run.
The Mississippi Bluesmaster
Our sample came to us in a stunning and vintage-looking Antique Violin Flame. The tasteful flame seems to blend naturally within the select grain mahogany top, and the crème colored binding on front and back gives it the patina of a gently aged vintage guitar. This guitar seems to display an amberish glow when viewed from afar under lights, imparting a very cool aura from the get-go.
Two St. Blues custom wound Zebra humbuckers, along with a 3-way toggle and separate chrome tone and volume controls give the Mississippi Bluesmaster a simple and understated look, perfect for those of us who prefer simplicity in style and function. The bridge is a rock solid custom steel hardtail and the neck is an expertly fitted bolt-on mahogany specimen with a distinctly Gibson-ish vibe. The fretboard is made of AAA Indian rosewood that appeared to have a darker color than other rosewood fretboards I''m accustomed to seeing - my first impression was ebony. Mother of Pearl dot markers add a classy touch to the proceedings and are nicely appointed. The tuners are vintage Klusons - a great match in terms of the guitar''s overall vibe - and a bone nut adds another dimension of quality.
Feeling the Blues
When I first picked this guitar up, I was immediately reminded of a Gibson Nighthawk I owned years ago - a guitar whose silhouette bears more than a passing resemblance to St. Blues'' iconic shape. It is extremely light and the neckand body balance felt just right. The neck, however, was my personal Holy Grail. It''s a combination of a player-friendly slight ''C'' shape with a familiar 24.75" scale - a design likely to please pickers with small to mid-sized hands, making those previously troublesome chords effortless. The factory setup was medium low and the neck plays fast and smooth. The fretboard edges exude a comfortable, worn-in feel.
Playing various triads and barre chords up and down the neck was a treat for my fingers. The nickel silver frets were of a medium size, and at this price point, it was treat to see how well executed the fretwork was. This is one of those guitars that''s meant to be played and played and… well, you get the idea.
That HowlPlugging in, the Mississippi Bluesmaster lives up to its name. It is an old school blues machine that simply gets after it with no messing around. This guitar lives to produce Bayou-based howls and growls, and after a few minutes you''ll find yourself looking for the crossroads.
Playing around with the Zebra humbuckers, I came away quite impressed with the tonal balance present in all positions - they come off as very boutique-ish, without any of the muddiness you can frequently encounter in stock pickups within this price range. The bridge bucker is very aggressive and will have you honking out feisty runs, while the neck bucker alone rekindles images of those smoky Mississippi blues bars of yesteryear. You''ll find this is a very responsive guitar, and there are a wide range of sounds available, even within the Bluesmaster''s simple electronics setup.
I should mention that I stumbled upon some surprisingly rich and pleasant acoustic tones by rolling the tone knob back to almost nil in the various switch settings. This only enhanced the usefulness of the Mississippi Bluesmaster - the only thing missing might be the ability to split the humbuckers into single coils for added versatility, but that would admittedly spoil the simplicity that makes Ole Miss what it is.
Buy if...
you''re looking for a meaty-blues rock sound at a blue-collar price.
Skip if...
you only want others to be impressed by the familiar name on a headstock.
Rating...
MSRP $999 - St. Blues Guitars - saintblues.com |
The Highway 61 South
Next up was St. Blues'' highly anticipated 61 South - a guitar mimicking the original Bluesmaster''s overall structure and layout, but with a unique thinline attitude. True blues hounds out there will recall that 61 South is best known as half of the intersection where Robert Johnson is said to have cut his deal with the devil (the other half being Route 49 down in Clarksdale, Mississippi), giving this axe big shoes to fill.
Our 61 South model arrived in a familiar, Fendery two-tone finish, displaying a nice mix of antique burst among the natural wood patterns on the select grain ash body. It is also available in what the company calls a White Blonde - a more transparent white that allows some of the graininess of the ash top to filter through. The classic sunburst plays well against the vintage aura of the 61 and the small Tele-style semi-hollow body will have you thinking Fender Thinline, but in a more subdued and devious way. Double crème binding is everywhere, including the infamous ''f'' holes, and there were no blemishes or inconsistencies observed through my bi-focaled inspection.
As with the Mississippi Bluesmaster, the 61 South features St. Blues'' custom wound pickups, this time showcasing their Tele-style design in a tapped configuration, allowing you to dial in four different tonal variations. Pulling up the volume or tone knob controls allows you to tap approximately 25 percent of the pickup''s signal. Optionally, you can have the 61 South configured with a P-90 at the neck and a Tele tapped single coil at the bridge. The bridge is a solid nickel Wilkinson WTB with stammered brass saddles, and the guitar''s appointments, like the cord plate and strap buttons, are all finely mounted. The overall look is pure vintage, with style cues borrowed from both St. Blues'' original Bluesmaster and Fender''s original Tele Thinlines.
The hard rock maple neck''s bolt-on construction and 25.5" scale length also give off a Fender-ish vibe. The maple fretboard features a weaving wood grain with customary St. Blues nickel finished frets that are more vintage-sized than today''s more prevalent jumbos. Regarding fret sizes, to each their own. Those used to jumbos will have to make some adjustments to their bending technique, but I''m a sucker for maple fretboards both in appearance and tone, and this one didn''t disappoint. It''s all capped with a bone nut and vintage 15:1 ratio Klusons, giving the 61 South a familiar feel.
Southern ComfortFirst and foremost, the 61 South is lightweight and compact, but not in a fragile way. I love my Epiphone Casino but it sometimes feels like I''m holding a whiffle ball bat in a hardball game when playing aggressive blues and rock. The 61''s semi-hollow weight and small body mass comes with no such "handle with care" warnings - this is a gig worthy warrior that would likely hold up to live and aggressive picking. I played the 61 in both sitting and standing positions and only noticed a hint of neck heaviness, a typical complaint for semi-hollow and full hollowbodied guitars. This is a very comfortable guitar that will make your shoulders and arms thank you.
Unlike the Mississippi Bluesmaster, the 61 sports the spank and feel provided by the longer scale. Moving up and down the neck was fast and easy, with the maple fingerboard showing no sign of stickiness, and the frets offering a nice, beveled finish. The stock setup on my 61 featured medium action and light gauged Cleartone strings, making bends and pull-offs a breeze. Tapping the sounds by pulling on the knobs themselves was smooth and easy.
Sounds of the South
The 61 South yielded a very nice tonal response when working between soft fingerstyle and aggressive picking styles. The bridge pickup is exceptionally responsive to an aggressive attack, producing a nice array of honky, rock tones. Spank it a little harder with some fast chicken pickin'' and you''ll find yourself rewarded with some of the most organic sounds available at this price point. Adding some dirt to your signal will get the 61 South going as well, and, while not as aggressive as the Mississippi Bluesmaster''s humbuckers, you''ll be greeted by a cool semi-hollow growl that awakens a rockophile''s past.
I found the most versatile tones - including various chimey and bell-like tones that would appeal to a wide range of pickers - once both pickups were engaged. As a testament to the guitar''s range, you''ll even find some bluegrass tones hiding in here as well. I didn''t personally find a lot of variety or tonal possibilities in tapping the pickups unless playing straight clean, as they seemed to get washed into the sound a bit when adding some dirt and distortion.
The neck pickup had a nice mellow snap to it, along with some of that dripping Delta bluesy-ness. The tone knob is very impressive providing a wide swath of tonal possibilities in between one and ten. I didn''t experience any of the microphonic feedback typically associated with semi-hollowbodies until pushing the amp''s bass and gain levels over the top - at typical stage volumes, you should have no problems.
The Final Mojo
Honestly, both of these guitars had a lot to live up to. Based on the signature guitar from the original St. Blues lineup, the 61 South has the company''s reputation on the line, while the Mississippi Bluesmaster comes raring into town as the rookie hot-shot trying to grab some of the spotlight. Both guitars finished with flying colors. Each has its own tonal personality - the Mississippi Bluesmaster delivers a meatier, blues-rock tone, while the 61 South maintains an obvious thinline presence in a sweet and airy package. Even more remarkably, both of these guitars retail for under $900, making them an under-the-radar bargain. Simply put, these are great products designed for players.
Buy if...
you''re looking for a comfortable blues-rock semi-hollow guitar that can do the Tele thing along with its own unique voicings.
Skip if...
the small size and light weight turns you off or you don''t get off an organic semi-hollow tones.
Rating...
MSRP $1160 - St. Blues Guitars - saintblues.com |
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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.
