With hearts plagued by sorrow, new amps that go to 11, and a new ESP Sparrowhawk signature model, the 6-string riff-master and his bandmates made the powerful—at times elegiac—new album, Emperor of Sand.
It’s Bill Kelliher’s birthday. While many rock stars would celebrate the occasion with debauchery, the Mastodon guitarist spent a good part of his morning with Premier Guitar. Over coffee at the Club Room in New York’s Soho Grand Hotel, Kelliher told the tale of the band’s eighth full-length studio release, Emperor of Sand.
Okay, so rock stars only party at night? Well, maybe. Later that evening, we reconvened at a Mastodon listening event held at the Sonos New York City flagship store. Here—in an upscale environment where even the trash can was decked out in black velvet—Kelliher was joined by bassist/co-frontman Troy Sanders and rounded out his celebration by doing more publicity for the new album. These guys live Mastodon 24/7, and Emperor of Sand is a testament to their unwavering dedication.
Emperor of Sand was written during arguably the darkest time in the band’s personal lives. “When we were writing, there was a lot of illness and life-changing events happening all around us,” revealed Kelliher. “Basically, Troy’s wife fell ill with cancer last year and, hitting so close to home, we had to cancel a tour. Brann’s [that’s Brann Dailor, Mastodon’s drummer/vocalist] mom has been in and out of care. She’s been sick with some sort of crippling disease ever since I’ve known him. Myself … as soon as we got off the road two Septembers ago, I started sitting down to write the record and my mom fell ill. I found out that she had a brain tumor that was cancerous.”
Some might have been crushed, but Mastodon, which also includes guitarist Brent Hinds, persevered and ultimately turned these tragedies into songs. “Every day Brann and I would get together and have coffee and be like, ‘How’s your mom doing?’ We’re getting older and we’d talk about what happens when you get older,” says Kelliher. “I felt like it would do a disservice to our loved ones if we didn’t confront it and sing about it, or write about it, or talk about it, and use it for storylines in the making of the record. We were writing the record and it was rubbing off on our creative juices.”
Kelliher’s two-plus years of sobriety also made the writing process more fruitful. And after about a year of pre-production, the band recorded the album at the Quarry in Kennesaw, Georgia. Legendary producer Brendan O’Brien, who had worked with Mastodon previously on Crack the Skye, was brought back to lend his magic touch. And it worked: Emperor of Sand features the signature elements Mastodon fans have grown to love, from the haunting dissonances in “Andromeda” and “Sultan’s Curse”to the blazing, extended melodic outro solo of “Jaguar God.”
The presence of it is there.”
Almost two decades into their career, Mastodon continues to operate in perpetual overdrive. The band recently bought a building in Atlanta, Georgia, and opened Ember City, a rehearsal (and soon, recording) facility. Kelliher’s also got a new signature Friedman amp—the Butterslax—and a new ESP signature model, joining his LP-style ESP BK-600. In support of Emperor of Sand, Mastodon is set to embark on a North American spring tour with Eagles of Death Metal and Russian Circles.
But back at the Club Room, we started by talking about how bad times led to creating new music.
You’ve said that “Sultan’s Curse,” the first song on Emperor of Sand,is about being handed a death sentence. That song sets the theme for the album.
Kelliher: “Sultan’s Curse” was a song I had for probably six or seven years prior to it coming out on Emperor of Sand. I’ve got so many ideas, riffs, and parts of songs just floating around all over—in my Pro Tools, in my head. That particular song just didn’t make it on any other records. It wasn’t completely finished yet. That’s the thing with these songs: You know when they’re finished. When they’re done, it’s like, “Cool, let’s start writing the lyrics.”
I don’t write the lyrics. I’m just the riff guy. Usually when we write concept albums, it either has a very intricate story—something we made up—or a real-life event that influenced us and turned into a story. There are a lot of metaphors in there, which are open to interpretation, like all our lyrics are. But our fans are so die-hard and have such an emotional connection to our music that they are gonna understand it and feed off of it, and the message is really going to get through. My mom passed away, Brann’s mom is still doing all right, Troy’s wife is doing okay. I feel like the album is a real finished piece.
Can you talk us through the steps of a typical Mastodon demo?
I have a studio in my basement that I built last year. I built it as fast as I could because I had so many ideas and I needed a place to dump them out. It was just me and Brann. I did all the bass and all the guitars and everything. Because Brann and I had been working really hard at it, we knew the material inside and out. We played the songs for eight months before we really showed them to anybody else.
Did you factor in Brent’s parts as you wrote the riffs?
Over some parts, we’d say, “That’s where Brent will play a solo.” Or, like on “Steambreather,” it was, “We got the verse. Let’s put a little break in between the two verses where normally the chorus would go, but we’ll save the chorus for later and put a little guitar solo in there.”
When I’m down in my studio, I have the advantage of writing all the guitar parts and putting all the guitar harmonies over them. I don’t, by any means, write parts for him, but sometimes I’ll suggest things, like, “I did this cool harmony on the record and I want you to play this part.” Sometimes it works the other way. If he’s written something, it doesn’t always make sense for me because a lot of times he writes super complex, chicken pickin’ things, and I can’t even tell what the hell is going on.
Can you give us an example of something like that on Emperor of Sand?
“Jaguar God” is a Brent song, and in the middle it has that crazy scale thing. I sat there for hours and days, trying to slow it down and play along to it, and I could. But I didn’t feel comfortable playing it. If both of us are doing it live, it’s going to be insane. I don’t know if I could pull it off. I think I’d just get too much anxiety over trying to play it perfectly. And it kind of does the riff a disservice if you’re just playing the exact same thing when you have two different guitar players. Like I’m forcing myself to play like him and it’s not natural. I try to come up with stuff under what he’s playing to more lock up with the rhythm. I’m not really that dexterous.
You’ve got a new signature guitar.
The Sparrowhawk, with ESP. When I left Gibson, I was talking with ESP and everyone I knew kept saying what a great company they are, and how they make great guitars. I’ve always been a Gibson guy, though, so it was hard for me to jump ship, but it had to be done.
When I was first approached by ESP, the first thing out of my mouth was, “Can I design my own guitar?” I’m not a big fan of some of their shapes. It’s like, “That’s kind of too pointy, too metal. That one looks like a Les Paul, but it’s not.” I was a little put off. But they were like, “Of course, man. You can design your own guitar.” But I think they were kind of wary about it—like, “I don’t know how this is going to turn out.”
I took some ’Bird shapes, some RD shapes. I love Fender Mustang and Jag-Stang shapes, but they’re kind of small for me. I like them a little bit bigger. So I took all that stuff into consideration and sketched out this idea. We went back and forth a few times. There are a couple of different colors: a Pelham Blue, which is like a bright blue, and there’s a … I call it army green silverburst. But the custom ones will be available in whatever color you want. And it is one of the greatest playing and sounding guitars I’ve ever owned.
I still play my old Les Paul and my old Explorers, but there’s something about the way this Sparrowhawk just sits. I always wanted to be one of those guys that plays the guitar down here [motions a low-hanging strap], like Slash, but I learned that it’s harder to reach all those notes and not play too sloppily. Like Jimmy Page, who has got his guitars down by his feet. It looks cool as hell. And with the Sparrowhawk, it still looks like it’s sitting pretty low, but I can really get to all the stuff I need to get to on the fretboard.
What pickups do you have in the Sparrowhawk?
They’re pickups I designed with Lace. One set is called the Dissonant Aggressors, and another set is the Divinators, which are brand new, and which I kind of like better than the Dissonant Aggressors. The Dissonant Aggressors are definitely a metal-sounding pickup, but not so high output that you can’t get a good clean sound, too.
Tell us about your signature Friedman Butterslax amp.
I had been playing the Friedman HBE [the Brown Eye 100 set on its “Hairy” channel] and Jerry Cantrell JJ-100 heads, which sound incredible. But their clean channels weren’t what I was looking for, and I told them, “I want three channels and I want more gain.” They were like, “You’ve got plenty of gain.” I was like, “When I’m playing the HBE and JJ head, I’ve got them pegged to like 9 1/2 or 10. Why don’t you take what would be the gain at 9 1/2 or 10 and put that back to, like, noon?”
So, you’ve got half more gain to go?
Even if you don’t use it, it might be a selling point. It’s there if you want it, and I found myself using it.
So you actually go up to the new “10?”
To “11.” [Laughs.] I said to them, “Can you put an 11 on it?” That would be funny.
Brent Hinds, Kelliher’s 6-string teammate, provide much of the band’s flash, while Kelliher is the riff monger. At the April 22 Palladium show, Hinds dug into a Gibson SG, among other guitars. Photo by Debi Del Grande
How do you set your amp so you’ve got a massive amount of gain, yet have the clarity needed for those arpeggiated figures you play?
With the Friedman, you’ve got to be really articulate because it picks up every fuckin’ mistake. I’ve kind of got the perfect balance with the Friedman amps and with my pickups, where I don’t have to have too much gain. When I was a kid, I used to use a Chandler Tube Driver, one of the original ones—I still love that sound—and a Peavey Butcher head. I would crank it up, and I would only put the overdrive on a little bit, and I’d have so much feedback that I’d always be turning the gain down. I used to always scoop my mids, and then I learned that if you turn your mids up, you can actually hear your guitar. The presence of it is there.
Nowadays with my rig, I don’t have any feedback at all, which is awesome. With the Friedman heads, you just turn them on and they sound amazing already. I wanted a clean sound that was more reminiscent of what I grew up playing, like the Peavey Butcher head or Peavey VTM or Marshall JCM 800, which I graduated to when I could afford one in my 20s. It’s that sound of always having a distortion box, and when you turn it off, you’re on the gain stage but it’s at like 4 or 5. Kind of like an AC/DC sound. I call it clean, but they’re like, “That’s not clean at all.” It’s like a “Ride the Lightning” sound, when they’re playing the clean stuff. Like an electric guitar in a clean setting, but with a little bit of sustain.
Bill Kelliher’s Gear
Guitars
• ESP signature model Sparrowhawk with signature Lace Divinator pickups
• ESP signature BK-600 with signature Lace Dissonant Aggressor pickups
Amps
• Friedman signature Butterslax head
• Friedman 4x12 cabs with 65-watt Celestion G12M-65 Creambacks
• Fractal Audio Axe-Fx II
Effects
• Fractal MFC-101 MIDI foot controller
• DigiTech JamMan
Strings and Picks
• D’Addarios (.010–.052 for D-standard tuning; .010–.054 for C tuning; .010–.058 or .060 for A tuning)
• Dunlop Tortex Sharp .88 mm picks
So you’re not after a pristine clean?
I have to have a little bit of sustain and a little bit of grit. It’s got to be there. I had a really nice Orange, but when you clicked on the clean it was so fuckin’ glassy, like a country and western sounding, Beach Boys thing. It was really bright, and even with the volume turned all the way down it would cut right through my brain. That’s how the HBE clean was, and I was like, “No, no, no—it sounds like two totally different amps.” I want it to sound like the same amp, so you’re not getting this giant jump in sound that’s not real. I want it to sound natural.
Are you also using an Axe-Fx?
Yeah, I’m using the Axe-Fx in conjunction with my Butterslax. I can’t say enough good things about it. It took me a long time to jump ship to actually using it live, but I’m convinced now. There’s a big learning curve with that stuff, but I was like, “This is what I do for a living. I might as well start studying it and figuring out how to use it, because it’s so versatile.”
Since you mentioned the word “studying,” it’s interesting that you also give lessons while you’re on the road. What are the most common misconceptions people have about playing your guitar parts?
What I tell people is, “If it seems too hard to play, you’re probably playing it wrong.” Some guy was playing “Hearts Alive,” which has got a lot of chords—crazy chords, like really weird chords—that are plucked on each string. This kid was playing it real staccato, and going from here to here to here [moves fretting hand from a lower register to a higher one and back]. I was like, “No, dude. Everything is right here.” [Indicates that the riff is all played in one area of the fretboard.] You just keep your hand in the same place. If you watch most guitar players who are playing pretty complex stuff, nobody is playing like this [moves hand abruptly through different registers], unless you’re Michael Angelo. [Laughs.]
People probably also miss a lot of nuances when they try to cop your stuff.
Yeah. There are ghost notes. A lot of people don’t pick that up when they’re learning our stuff. See, I never took any lessons, but nowadays I can just watch a video. There are probably kids out there who have only been playing for a year that can shred the hell out of the guitar. I’m more focused on writing stuff that’s a little different. There’s only so much you can do. That’s why we use different tunings, and I’m always putting my fingers in a weird configuration to make up new chords.
Your use of dissonance sounds very organic. Is it based on theory or intuition?
It’s more intuition. Does this feel natural, like it should go to this note? But you know, I’m always experimenting with dissonant notes. I love the sound of two notes a half-step away that are trying to find each other—that kind of wobble. On nearly every single riff I write, at least in the past couple of years, I almost always throw those notes in there. Like when you have an open string, you can tell the difference on a record between an open string and a fretted note. I try to stay away from playing a fingered note that could be an open string.
Is it hard to physically control the open strings from ringing out too much or getting noisy?
I’ve got all kinds of tricks to muting them. With this hand, too [lifts left hand], sometimes I can intuitively mute. Like my fingers know how to cut it off when it needs to be cut off. There are songs like “Scorpion Breath,” on the new album, where I hit the high string and I have to arc my hand so I can keep playing the low notes under it. I’ll have the B string still ringing while I play the low notes, and I let it ring as long as possible until the next time I hit it.
In that specific case, what do you do about the G and E strings, which are also potentially ringing because your left hand isn’t muting them?
You have to hit that B string precisely. When I was doing it for the record, I hit it every time without having to dub in just that note. Every time, I played it exactly the way I heard it. That song, the B string is tuned to A, and you’re hitting the octave of the low A. So when you hit the low string, it always bounces a little bit, because I don’t use super heavy-gauge strings, usually .010–.052s or .054s. I never have any problems with fretting out or tuning, and I hit pretty hard.
It’s not surprising that you hit that B string right on every time. You’re known for being really obsessive about playing everything precisely.
Oh yeah. I’m always trying to become a better guitar player and the first rule is to not be sloppy. [Laughs.]
Do you and Brent discuss the actual fine details of your parts down to, say, slides and hammer-ons and pull-offs, to guarantee complete synchronicity?
It depends on if you’re asking me to learn his part or him to learn my part. [Laughs.] When I learn his part, I sit there and take notes, and take videos. Normally we don’t play the exact same thing, but when he writes something, I try to mimic it as closely as possible.
Does he take the same approach with your parts?
[Laughs.] He kind of just does what he does. I try to tell him sometimes, “That part is not right,” or whatever, but sometimes I’m like, “That’s just the way he is.”
Does that drive you crazy?
[Laughs.] Yes, it does drive me crazy. I love the guy and he’s an awesome guitar player, but sometimes I have to change to what he’s doing, even if I wrote the part. It’s like, “Whatever, I’ll just change that note.” You make it work somehow.
YouTube It
Mastodon rips through “Show Yourself,” the first single from the band’s new Emperor of Sand, on Jimmy Kimmel Live! On stage left, note Bill Kelliher and his brand-new signature axe, the ESP Sparrowhawk.
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 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.
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.