How do Moog’s new stompboxes compare to the company’s larger, more expensive Moogerfooger effects?
Moog Music’s original Moogerfooger pedals are the coffee table books of stompboxes. They delight the senses. They’re superbly crafted. But they’re big, heavy, and expensive. I own and treasure several, but they don’t typically populate pedalboards or go to gigs.
Enter the Minifoogers: five smaller-format effects at prices ranging from $149 to $219. And in addition to covering delay and modulation effects you’d probably expect from Moog, the series includes boost and drive pedals—Moog’s first gain stompboxes. The results are cool and unique.
When Downsizing is Good
There are legitimate reasons why Moogerfoogers are large and expensive. They include multitudinous knobs and switches, not to mention extensive control options—you can connect several expression pedals and adjust most parameters in real time. With relatively complex features, Moogerfoogers can feel better suited to a clean mixing desk than a scuzzy club stage.
The Minifoogers strip things down. The 5.7" x 3.25" x 2.25" enclosures are only slightly larger than most common stompboxes, and their top-mounted connectors let you pack them in tightly on a board. Gone are the Moogerfoogers’ signature wooden side panels and many of the control options—each Minifooger has just one expression pedal jack. (Expression pedals not included.) There are fewer knobs and switches as well.
Unlike Moogerfoogers, Minifoogers can run on batteries as well as standard 9-volt power. The enclosures feel solid. The interior layouts are nice and clean, with board-mounted jacks and pots, SMD components, and tidily routed ribbon connector. The Minifoogers’ uniform styling probably won’t turn heads. But if your pedalboard looks like a drunken clown barfed on it, you may welcome some basic-black sobriety.
Let’s listen in alphabetical order (by clicking the next page) or choose your own adventure:
Minifooger Boost
Minifooger Delay
Minifooger Drive
Minifooger Ring Modulator
Minifooger Trem
MF Boost
Moog’s first boost pedal offers something you don’t always encounter in a boost pedal: subtlety.
Actually, the MF Boost houses two separate gain circuits, selectable via toggle: VCA mode provides hi-fi, crispy-clean boost. There’s little coloration—just a feeling of airier highs, firmer lows, and increased headroom. It doesn’t sound precisely like, say, clean mode on a Klon Centaur or a Z. Vex Super Hard On, but it’s a similar “low dose of steroids” effect that flatters many guitars, especially ones with old or old-style pickups.
Ratings
Pros:
Excellent boosted tones, subtle and musical. Gain control via expression pedal (not included).
Cons:
Possibly too subtle for some players.
Tones:
Ease of Use:
Build/Design:
Value:
Street:
$149
Moog MF Boost
moogmusic.com
Toggling to OTA mode summons a slightly louder and “furrier” flavor of gain. Both modes, though, are relatively restrained. VCA mode offers +6 dB, and OTA mode doubles that. Connecting an expression offers six additional decibels in either mode. That way, wherever you’ve set the MF Boost’s gain control becomes the minimum controller pedal level, with more boost available as you advance the treadle. It’s an ingenious arrangement that lets you fine-tune your gain range, making it easy to, say, pedal between rhythm and solo levels. The only downside of the scheme is that you must connect a controller pedal to wring that last six decibels out of the MF Boost.
This may or may not be an issue, since the focus here is on the subtler end of the boost spectrum. This pedal doesn’t attempt to bludgeon your amp like many boost circuits do. It’s more about artful fattening and burnishing. Among other things, the MF Boost can make you sound as if you’re playing louder than you are, mimicking a cranked amp’s compression. It’s a great tool if you need to practice or record more quietly than you’d like.
A level control lets you trim the output after driving the gain circuit. Again, subtlety prevails: Lowering it peels off only modest amounts of level. This makes perfect sense, given the MF Boost’s relatively restrained output and the fact that you need to slap the amp with force for the best results.
The tone control is a simple post-boost low-pass filter. As such, it doesn’t alter the boost character much—it just nixes highs. But it’s perfectly voiced for taming nasty top-end. I quickly settled into an intuitive workflow: Push the gain till the texture feels right, then lower the tone till any nasty treble frequencies vanish. It worked like a charm on my vintage Strat’s bridge pickup: Cranking the gain fattened the potentially weedy sound, but added a nasty edge. Adjusting the tone control removed the nasty, leaving just the awesome.
Verdict
With its relatively modest output, the MF Boost is more of a tone conditioner than a tone changer. It can fatten, focus, and brighten without screwing up what you dig about your tones. The ability to control gain via expression pedal is unusual and potentially useful. The price is right at $149. Whoever voiced this pedal has good taste and good ears.
Let’s listen in alphabetical order (by clicking the next page) or choose your own adventure:
Minifooger Delay
Minifooger Drive
Minifooger Ring Modulator
Minifooger Trem
MF Delay
Not long ago you had to cough up the cabbage for a good analog delay, thanks to the scarcity of bucket-brigade chips. But now that the chips are back in production, we’ve been flooded—heh—with warm analog wetness. And man, the MF Delay is a stellar example. It’s a great-sounding delay with vibey tones and several remarkable features.
Ratings
Pros:
Fab-sounding bucket-brigade delay. Uncommonly powerful for a mid-priced analog delay stompbox.
Cons:
None.
Tones:
Ease of Use:
Build/Design:
Value:
Street:
$219
Moog MF Delay
moogmusic.com
The MF Delay is analog in your face. The wet signal is dark, noisy, and distorted—exactly the qualities analog delay fiends crave. The initial echo is bright enough for snappy rockabilly tones when feedback is set near minimum. But as it cycles around, it quickly crumbles into darker, noisier territory. This is a feature, not a bug—it’s what makes the echoes sit so neatly behind the dry sound. You can slather on more effect hear than you could with a digital model.
With its four bucket-brigade chips, the $219 MF Delay provides 700ms of delay time—that’s long for an analog model, and nearly as much as the $700 Moogerfooger MF-104D.
I compared the MF Delay’s tone to my Moogerfooger MF-104SD, a limited-edition version from 2005. The 104SD has an even darker sound, and more delay time. On the less expensive MF Delay, the contrast is stronger between the initial cleaner delays and the increasingly distorted repeats. I actually prefer the tone of the newer model.
Naturally, the MF Delay omits some features found on the current Moogerfooger MF-104M delay. There’s no delay modulation. You can’t inject external sound sources into the delay line. There’s no tap tempo or master output level.
Yet enough advanced features remain to distinguish the $219 MF Delay from many rival analog delays. Again, there’s real-time control via expression pedal (not included), and here, you can assign it to one of two possible functions via an internal board-mounted toggle. With the switch set to control delay time, the pedal conjures eerie whoops and smears. Or flick the switch to “feedback” to provide tasteful dub-style touches—or self-oscillating mayhem. Also, you can dial in 100% wet sounds, which means that even though the MF Delay lacks the independent dry and wet output of the Moogerfooger delay, you can still kill the dry sound when inserting the pedal into an amp’s effect loop.
The coolest special feature may be the drive control. Much of the character of vintage echo units comes from the ability to shape tone by hitting the input at various levels—so much so that many guitarists are purchasing non-delay pedals specifically designed to imitate the distorted boost provided by tape-echo input sections. With its 22 dB of gain, the MF Delay actually gets significantly louder than the MF Boost, and the distorted sounds are smooth and attractive. (The drive control affects both the wet and dry signals.) I can totally imagine cranking the gain, dialing in a dry mix, and using this solely as a boost pedal. There are no tone controls, but the default color sounded cool with both humbuckers and single-coils.
Verdict
Great-sounding delay. Great-sounding overdrive. Great real-time control via expression pedal (not included). Just plain great.
Let’s listen in alphabetical order (by clicking the next page) or choose your own adventure:
Minifooger Boost
Minifooger Drive
Minifooger Ring Modulator
Minifooger Trem
MF Drive Like the MF Boost pedal covered above, the $179 MF Drive offers a cool and uniquely Moog take on guitar distortion. At its core, this is an OTA-based overdrive that generates fat, naturalistic crunch. As you advance the gain, the signal compresses and bleeds highs in an impressive simulation of tube amp distortion. A toggle selects between high and low input levels, accommodating pickups of varied output.
Ratings
Pros:
Many cool distortion shades via filtering. Control filter frequency via expression pedal (not included).
Cons:
Too tweaky and complex for some players?
Tones:
Ease of Use:
Build/Design:
Value:
Street:
$179
Moog MF Boost
moogmusic.com
But it’s also a filter pedal—and one that interacts with the distortion circuit in cool and useful ways. Make that two filters: a multifaceted tone control and a resonant Moog ladder filter.
First, the tone control: In the lowest part of its range, it filters highs, with a dark, bass-heavy sound in the fully counterclockwise position. But as it nears the center of its range, it cuts varying amounts of midrange (at 800 Hz). As it’s moved further to the right, it peels off lows, producing shrieking treble-boosted tones at its maximum setting. Depending on its position, the control can nudge your amp toward fat tweedy sounds, scooped blackface colors, or mid-forward, vaguely British tones. That’s a lot of sounds from one little tone control.
The real fun starts when you add the resonant filter. With the peak toggle engaged, the filter adds 15 dB of gain at whatever frequency you park the filter knob. Alternately, you can use an expression pedal (not included) to control the filter-frequency, wah-style.
I say “wah style” because the character of the filtering differs from that of the leading wahs. You can definitely obtain dramatic filter effects, but don’t expect to plug in a foot controller at whip out a creditable version of “Voodoo Chile” or “Theme from Shaft.” It’s not that particular flavor, but something subtler.
Sweeping the filter knob lets you highlight particular parts of a sound’s spectrum, be it a nasal resonance, or a hearty thump evocative of closed-back cabinets. Again, this isn’t modeling per se, but it’s a way to reinvent tones. Depending on how you position the interactive gain, tone, and filter knobs, you can create the impression of varying body types, pickups, and amps. You have to fiddle around to get there, though—the MF Drive will probably appeal more to tweakers than plug-in-and-go types.
The MF Drive would be particularly useful for pinpointing an ideal frequency niche for overdubbed guitars. In this regard it’s similar to some of the new drive/filter pedals inspired by the 1980s Systech Harmonic Generator, such as a the Spontaneous Audio Devices Son of Kong and Totally Wycked Audio’s Triskelion. The MF Drive isn’t as extreme as those devices—it lacks their adjustable Q (filter bandwidth) and stronger filter intensity, so it can’t mimic their violent rumbles and shrieks. But it provides a remarkable array of options for a mid-priced overdrive. Another Tube Screamer clone, this ain’t.
Verdict
The versatile and imaginative MF Drive strikes a compromise between conventional overdrives and over-the-top “dirty filters” of the Systech Harmonic Energizer ilk. Its complexly interactive controls can be tricky to master, but they reward the patient tweaker with cool and unconventional overdrive colors.
Let’s listen in alphabetical order (by clicking the next page) or choose your own adventure:
Minifooger Boost
Minifooger Delay
Minifooger Ring Modulator
Minifooger Trem
MF RING
Has any guitar writer ever discussed ring modulation without noting that it’s not a sound for all tastes?
For the uninitiated: Unlike other modulation effects, wherein the modulation is produced by waveforms so low you can’t hear them (hence the term LFO, for low-frequency oscillator), ring mods use modulating pitches high enough to hear. Applying them to your signal unleashes sonic anarchy: alien bells, foul-mouthed robots, clangorous swoops and glides. Any of these tones will get you banned for life from your local Tuesday night blues jam.
Ratings
Pros:
Excellent analog ring-mod sounds at a fair price.
Cons:
Haters gonna hate.
Tones:
Ease of Use:
Build/Design:
Value:
Street:
$159
Moog MF Boost
moogmusic.com
Sound like fun? If so, you may be a ring mod pervert. And despite what the haters say, you can find uses for these clanging noises, especially when they’re mixed subtly with conventional guitar tones.
The MF Ring, a $159 spinoff from Moog’s $299 MF-102 Ring Modulator, omits some of the larger pedal’s features. (I won’t say it omits “bells and whistles,” because it does bell and whistle sounds just fine.) While the MF-102 lets you route a controller pedal to any parameter, on the MF Ring control is locked to modulation frequency—definitely the most dramatic option. Also absent: a choice of modulation waveforms, a drive control, and a toggle to shift between higher and lower frequency ranges. And with its minimum oscillation frequency of 90Hz, the MF Ring doesn’t allow you to slow down the modulation sufficiently for tremolo sounds. (On an MF-102, dialing in frequencies under 10Hz or so yields gorgeous, shimmering tremolo—one of the pedal’s great “secret sounds.”)
But make no mistake, the MF Ring can be just as alienating as its Moogerfooger uncle. And by alienating, I mean both “bumming out conservative ears” and “making you sound like an alien.”
A wet/dry mix control and a treble-nixing tone control are essential for dialing back the intensity of the effect. Ring modulation can (and usually does) introduce wild high-frequency content well above the usual guitar range. Taming that can be the difference between the tone that gets you hired and the one that gets you fired. Overall sound quality is comparable to that of the MF-102—there are just fewer options.
As on the MF Boost, connecting an expression pedal (not included) expands the range of the effect, here widening the sweep of the modulation frequency. Again, it’s a clever way to players determine the range of their sweeps, but bear in mind that you must use a controller to access the MF Ring’s full repertoire.
VerdictThe MF Ring performs as advertised. The price is fair. It’s also one of your only options for a dedicated, true analog ring modulator. On the other hand, digital ring modulation, available on many multi-effectors, has all the—um—emotive power of analog. Whether the MF Ring warrants a plot of land on your pedalboard, I can’t say. Consult your inner pervert.
Let’s listen in alphabetical order (by clicking the next page) or choose your own adventure:
Minifooger Boost
Minifooger Delay
Minifooger Drive
Minifooger Trem
MF Trem
Moog’s $179 MF Trem is a gorgeous little analog tremolo with cool features you may not have encountered in a trem. But once you try them, you may get hooked.
The pedal’s shape control fades between three trem types: smooth rise and fall, sharp rise/smooth fall, and smooth rise/sharp fall. Variations include everything from corpulent, optical-sounding trem to slappy/choppy flickering à la Vox Repeat Percussion. It’s an easy, intuitive way to access a lot of trem colors.
Ratings
Pros:
Lovely trem tones. Lots of variation. Pragmatic controls. Real-time speed control via expression pedal (not included).
Cons:
No tap-tempo.
Tones:
Ease of Use:
Build/Design:
Value:
Street:
$179
Moog MF Boost
moogmusic.com
The rate control has a generous range: At maximum, you get a throaty purr bordering on ring modulation. The depth control works as expected, though it interacts with the tone controls in not-so-expected ways.
Yes, the MF Trem has a tone control, a simple low-pass filter that effects only the wet signal. But since the depth control is really just a wet/dry blend, the tone control’s effect varies with the depth amount. At low tone/high depth settings, you encounter cool and subtle phasing effects. The pedal never sounds quite like a Uni-Vibe, Leslie cab, or brownface Fender vibrato circuit—there’s no actual pitch modulation here. But the MF Trem captures some of the rich, phasy goodness of those devices. And of course, the effect changes dramatically once you alter the shape setting.
Such interactivity may sound daunting, yet it’s easy to dial in tones. One good method is to set the rate and depth like you normally would, then just jiggle the shape and tone knobs till the tone feels right in context. Sounds stupid, but it works.
There’s no tap-tempo function, however. Nor is there a level control. (Trem effects sometimes benefit from a modest level boost, depending on the musical context.) But here, brighter tone settings accomplish the task.
Attaching an expression pedal (not included) lets you pilot the trem speed by foot. Ever tried this? If not, you’re missing out! It’s a lovely expressive effect, especially when you alter the rate in the pauses between musical phrases. It’s like a less gooey take on the rotating Leslie sound, and a grossly underexploited effect.
Verdict
The MF Trem offers a fine palette of lush, tactile tremolo tones. It strikes an appealing balance between basic two-knob trem circuits and the mad scientist boxes that let you tweak every parameter. There are many fine tones here, and it’s easy to dial them in.
Let’s listen in alphabetical order (by clicking the next page) or choose your own adventure:
Minifooger Boost
Minifooger Delay
Minifooger Drive
Minifooger Ring Modulator
Day 12 of Stompboxtober means a chance to win today’s pedal from LR Baggs! Enter now and check back tomorrow for more!
LR Baggs Session DI Acoustic Guitar Preamp / DI
Inspired by the LR Baggs Handcrafted Video Sessions and our experience in some of Nashville’s great studios, the Session Acoustic DI brings our signature studio sound to your live rig. The Session DI enhances your acoustic pickup and imparts the rich sonic character that you’d expect from an experienced audio engineer using some of the world’s finest studio gear. We’ve captured this studio magic and put it into a compact, easy-to-use DI that will transform your live sound.
John Mayer Silver Slinky Strings feature a unique 10.5-47 gauge combination, crafted to meet John's standards for tone and tension.
“I’ve always said that I don’t play the guitar, I play the strings. Having a feeling of fluidity is so important in my playing, and Ernie Ball strings have always given me that ability. With the creation of the Silver Slinky set, I have found an even higher level of expression, and I’m excited to share it with guitar players everywhere.”
— John Mayer
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.
"Very few guitarists in the history of popular music have influenced a generation of players like John Mayer. For over 25 years, John has not only been a remarkable artist but also a dear friend to the Ernie Ball family. This partnership represents our shared passion for music and innovation, and we can't wait to see how John’s signature Silver Slinky strings continue to inspire guitarists around the world.”— Brian Ball, CEO of Ernie Ball
Product Features
- Unique gauge combination: 10.5, 13.5, 17.5, 27, 37, 47
- John’s signature gauge for an optimal balance of tone, tension, and feel
- Reinforced Plain Strings (RPS) for enhanced tuning stability and durability
- Custom Slinky recipes tailored to John’s personal preferences
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 Albums chart, 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 Brother is 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 Doomscroller cracked 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.
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 the Warm 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, the WA76. 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.