As the modern custom shop comes full circle with its hot rod beginnings, we take a look at the movement’s early years.
|
The Hot Rod Revolution: The Early Days
In 1978, the year after I got that Les Paul, a revolution erupted, and a movement started that continues today. With the release of the first Van Halen album, rock guitarists were exposed to the unthinkable: putting a Gibson-style humbucker pickup in a Stratshaped guitar. It was like two worlds colliding… the guts of a Gibson in a Fender-style body. By today’s standards, it’s not uncommon, but thirty years ago it was unheard of. My other guitar buddies and I stared at that album cover, looking at Eddie’s picture on the front, asking, “What the hell is that?”
Hot-rodding a guitar was something that was done out of necessity. You either had to modify an existing guitar to give it features it wasn’t originally intended to have—from changing the electronics to replacing bodies and necks. Or, if there wasn’t anything out there that suited your needs, you just built a guitar that featured everything you wanted, including the way it looked. Historically, the whole idea of the electric guitar was to amplify the sound of the instrument. Hotrodding it meant amplifying everything, from refashioning the electronics to giving it one hell of a graphic paint job. Taking it to the extremes is what hot-rodding is all about.
For us hot-rodders, the fifties through the sixties might be considered the dark ages of the electric guitar: the instrument was still young, and the companies at the forefront were still tinkering. Early hot-rodding was evidenced by John Lennon and George Harrison scraping the finish off of their guitars to get better tone. Gibson was coming out with things like the VariTone switch, which gave the player several preset tones. Fender developed the Slimline Telecaster in the seventies—surprisingly, it had a dual coil humbucker-style pickup in the neck position. So, it was evident that the spark had already been ignited. But it was only when a custom shop opened up in Azusa, California that some really crazy stuff was about to go down.
The Ground Zero of Hot Rod Guitar
Wayne Charvel was a guitar player in the L.A. area who started a business in guitar repair, including refinish work for Fender under contract in the mid-seventies. Some of his work included routing humbucker cavities in Strats. He started doing customizations that no one had ever done before, and also developed aftermarket parts, including hardware made of aluminum, brass and stainless steel. While doing basic guitar repair and contract work for Fender, he was also making customized guitars that eventually developed into original designs. Soon, he was building custom-made guitars to order and was the only true custom shop on the block.
It was in this shop that a kid named Eddie Van Halen would sit on the floor and tinker with guitars while Charvel did his work. Charvel would eventually offer replacement bodies and necks made by his friend, Lynn Ellsworth. Ellsworth began making Strat bodies and necks under Charvel’s tutelage, and then started Boogie Bodies Guitars, a replacement guitar parts company. Charvel sold them at the repair shop. In the late seventies, Ellsworth would partner with Ken Warmoth to create Warmoth Guitar Parts. It was also during this time that Charvel did some work with Dave Schecter, who had begun to make aftermarket guitar parts. Together, they built necks and bodies to be sold through Charvel’s mail order service. Later, Schecter would go on to form Schecter Guitar Research, and would design high-end superstrats for discerning players. Eventually, Charvel began making bodies and necks on his own, as Ellsworth and Schecter took what they had learned from him and begin their own luctrative businesses.
Wayne Charvel’s guitar repair workshop in Azusa seemed to be the birthplace of the modern hot rod guitar. Eventually, it would become Charvel Manufacturing in San Dimas, California—and would grow into the flagship of the revolution, producing some of the most influential guitar designs to appear on production models to this day. With his staff, he created some of the most original guitar body designs anyone had seen, and had them painted with everything from hot rod flames to asymmetrical stripes and highly detailed graphic artwork. To a guy like me, San Dimas is hallowed ground.
One employee of Charvel became legendary in his own right. Karl Sandoval was a luthier at the Charvel shop and later became known to local L.A. area guitarists as a radical guitar builder. He understood the needs of the working musician as well as the rockstar mentality. His clients included Eddie Van Halen and George Lynch, but Sandoval made more of a statement with his work for Randy Rhoads: the famed polka dot Flying V. Like Ellsworth and Schecter before him, Karl Sandoval had Charvel as a launching pad to elevate his stature in the hot rod community.
Neal Shelton’s Rare
Charvel/Jackson Guitars Neal Shelton is a southern California music store owner who for almost thirty years has collected many early Charvel and Jackson guitars. Though he’s brokered hundreds of these rare guitars through his shop, he has also managed to own quite a few of the company’s true gems, including one-of-a-kind custom models, pre-production versions, and celebrity-owned Charvel/Jacksons. His first exposure to a Charvel was in 1979, while he was shopping for gear in Hollywood at a small store called Guitar Center. Shelton says of his epiphany, “There was a wall of these awesome guitars with custom finishes, crazy colors, and graphics. My jaw dropped! The one that really caught my attention was a Star body, pink with a silver lightning bolt graphic. I really wanted it, but I was on a budget to buy a PA, a Marshall half-stack and a guitar. I had to settle for a used G&L F-100. I never did forget that day.” With so many custom options available on Charvels and Jacksons through the years, Shelton cites the differences that set these guitars apart from the mainstream: “They had a nice wide fretboard with a slim, fast neck. These guitars were built for speed, not sluggish like a Les Paul. They were built to play and perform metal.” Shelton played the L.A. metal scene for many years, and continues performing in Hysteria, the premier Def Leppard tribute band. His store, Neal’s Music, is located in Huntington Beach, California, where many of these gems can be seen. Of these, the true treasures are the vintage Charvel and Jackson guitars on display. These guitars show an evolution of their own, which Shelton describes as a progression. “The Charvels had a Strat-style headstock, but due to Fender copyrights, they had to switch to the pointy headstock that most everyone now thinks of when they think of Jackson or Charvel,” remarks Shelton. Of the guitars Shelton owns, one stands out as his proudest piece. “I have a 1982 Charvel EVH black and yellow-striped that belonged to Eddie Van Halen,” he divulges. “They only made about a hundred of these guitars as a production run.” He also has the original company invoice made out to Eddie. This is the oldest Charvel guitar Shelton currently owns, although he has had many that predate this one. “I have owned many pre-production Charvels in the past, dating back to 1977,” he remarks, “before Wayne Charvel put serial numbers on the guitars, and some of them were even built using actual seventies Fender hardware.” As a broker of these rare guitars, Shelton can be considered partly responsible for having fed the hot rod fever. As he says, “I have literally had hundreds of vintage Jacksons and Charvels go through my hands. I supplied many of the collections you see on the internet today.” Visit Neal Shelton’s 1982 EVH Charvel at: nealsvintage.com. |
In terms of historical importance, at this point Wayne Charvel was the central figure in the west coast hot rod guitar movement. But, another key player on this coast who would eventually do some work with Charvel was Bernie Rico of BC Rich Guitars. His company was an established guitar manufacturer, and enjoying success at the time. Based out of the Los Angeles area, Rico was designing guitars with much more radical body shapes. The names of these guitars became synonymous with the brand name: Mockingbird, Seagull, Eagle and The Bich, to name a few. Rico’s main contribution to going left-of-center was his refinement of the neck-throughbody design and the development of a heelless neck joint. To make a more affordable version of some of the BC Rich guitars, Rico also produced bolt-on models, for which he contracted Charvel to construct necks.
In 1978, Wayne Charvel decided to move on to other ventures, and sold the Charvel company to an administrative employee, Grover Jackson. A guitar player in his own right, Jackson took on the business end of the Charvel company, but also had a genuine interest in transforming it. Once he gained control of the place, he brought a major focus to the company with marketing savvy and a much-needed artist relations program. While maintaining the Charvel company name, Jackson took what Wayne Charvel had started to the masses, by providing local and national players with high performance machines. He started an endorsement program, which meant high-profile players were constantly seen with Charvel guitars.
In 1980, Jackson met with Ozzy Osbourne’s guitarist Randy Rhoads to design a much more unconventional guitar. It was an offset V-shaped guitar, with one wing shorter than the other. Charvel Manufacturing was still enjoying the success of Wayne Charvel’s designs and customized Strat-like guitars. Jackson didn’t want to risk disrupting that success by putting the Charvel name on Randy’s new guitar, so he simply put his own name on the guitar’s headstock and the first Jackson was born. At an Ozzy show the following year, I saw that guitar. The ferocity of Rhoads’s playing made me notice the brand name on the guitar, a name I’d never heard of. Unbeknownst to me at the time, I would later own over twenty Jackson guitars!
My first exposure to a Charvel was at a local shop in 1983, and my first impression was that it played much more easily than my Les Paul. Like Van Halen’s guitar, it was strat-shaped, had a single humbucker and a brass tremolo bridge. Even more striking were the hot rod flames painted on it. The fastness of the neck was due to the flatness of the radius, and I felt like a better guitar player simply by virtue of that.
Charvel and Jackson guitars would soon be seen with lots of players on the world scene, from Gary Moore and Iron Maiden to RATT and Jeff Beck. With such high-profile players involved, Jackson’s marketing got the word out that there was a new production standard entering the game. These were manufactured guitars derived from the customizations done on guitars at Charvel’s original shop. They included angular body shapes, highoutput pickups, various electronic switching, flat-radius necks and stunning graphic paint jobs. Not only did they make the Randy Rhoads signature model, but they also made other Vs, an Explorer-styled guitar called a Kelly and the Strat-shaped Soloist, which was the first “superstrat” to appear on the market.
Using the Rhoads model as its flagship, the neck-thrubody models were designated with the Jackson label, while the bolt-on, Strat-shaped models went under the Charvel name. Clearly, these didn’t resemble anything Gibson or Fender had produced. Eventually, the Charvel name was phased out and Jackson flourished as the standard that other companies would come to follow. At that point, it was clear there was life blooming beyond the Les Paul and the Stratocaster. Rock guitar playing was becoming more extreme, and the tools needed to accomplish this more challenging playing style were being developed to make it happen.
Terry Boling’s Kramer
Compulsion “The single thing that made Kramer guitars more desirable to me over the competition was that Eddie Van Halen was playing their products,” says Terry Boling of Easley, South Carolina. He is one of the premier Kramer collectors in the US, having owned hundreds of Kramer guitars over the past twenty years. Boling has often been referred to as “The Godfather of Kramer,” having written the most definitive story of the Kramer guitar company. Also a motorcycle enthusiast, Boling began collecting Kramer guitars in 1984. He believes the popularity of the Kramers was due to two factors: “With the endorsement of Eddie Van Halen and being the sole distributors of the Floyd Rose tremolos, Kramer was difficult for anyone to overthrow.” Of the Kramer guitars Boling currently owns, his white Baretta model is his favorite. “It’s an original 1985 Baretta,” he says, “with the R5 Floyd Rose nut width, and it’s loaded with an aftermarket EMG 81 pickup. The radius of the fretboard is really flat, and the neck thickness is fairly thin and feels absolutely terrific to me. I’ve played it somewhere in the neighborhood of six to seven thousand hours in the twenty-one years I’ve owned it.” Kramer closed up shop in June of 1990, but Boling continued his crusade to honor the company by launching kramerkrazy.com. He also contributed a lengthy, six-part research report on the company for Vintage Guitar Magazine in 1998, which was well-received by guitar fans. It contained many unknown facts about the company, including the involvement of ESP Guitars and other companies in Kramer’s product manufacturing. “ESP helped fulfill the needs of Kramer for guitar bodies and necks,” says Boling, “along with other wood suppliers like LaSiDo (a Canadian guitar company) and Sports (a wood supplier from Connecticut). By 1986, ESP was the sole supplier of bodies and necks.” In 1995, Gibson bought the Kramer name and began importing guitars from Korea under the Kramer brand name, using the same model names from previous years. Boling was displeased, saying, “They were importing guitars under the names ‘Pacer’ and ‘Baretta’ that had no similarities to the original guitars of the eighties. I felt this was a hard slap in the face of the original company, its founders, and the fans of their products.” But with the pressure of the Kramer fans in online forums, the newly formed Kramer company restructured their production and is finally recreating the original models in the US. In some cases, they’re even better than the original versions. Boling recently bought a new 1985 reissue Kramer Baretta. “The fit, finish and overall quality meets or exceeds many of the original ’84 – ’85 Barettas I have owned over the years,” he says. For more information about the original, legendary Kramer guitars and Terry Boling’s history of the Kramer company, visit: vintagekramer.com. |
So it’s 1985, and George Lynch is showing me a new guitar. He had done an even trade for a Charvel at a music store while on tour with Dokken. It was a red Kramer Baretta, and it was heavy. The body was made of maple and painted red, with a matching red headstock. He said it was every bit as good as what Charvel was doing with custom-ordered guitars, but this Kramer was a stock production model. It had a single humbucker (like the Charvel I had seen a couple of years before), a wide 1-3/4” wide nut, a flat radius, big frets and Floyd Rose tremolo. At that time, no production model guitar had a Floyd included as stock hardware. I had seen a magazine ad with Eddie Van Halen, but I was still attached to my Les Paul. However, after plinking around with George’s Kramer Baretta, I just had to have one. The next day, I went down to the local guitar shop and ordered one.
Kramer was a whole world away from San Dimas, being based in New Jersey. It started out in the mid-seventies as an offshoot of the Travis Bean Guitar company, which built guitars around an aluminum neck. That guitar was super neck-heavy, and the neck itself was cold to the touch. Gary Kramer, then business partner of Travis Bean, redesigned the neck, and with the folding of Bean’s company, he pursued this redesign. The new guitar featured wooden inserts in the neck for weight relief, and to give it the feel of a normal guitar neck. He marketed it under his own name, and with the partnership of music store owner Dennis Berardi, Kramer Guitars went on to perfect the production that Travis Bean guitars had lacked.
The new series of guitars had the new neck and a pronounced double-cutaway body very similar to the Travis Bean guitars in appearance. Most of the accessories on these guitars were completely Kramer designed, like the active pickups and the bridges. One of the more innovative designs Kramer offered at this time was the Duke bass, which was a headless bass guitar with the tuners attached to the body. This preceded the Steinberger by several years, and showed the company’s intention to move into more original designs.
By the time more contemporary guitars were designed, Gary Kramer had left the company (see sidebar story) but Kramer guitars continued to redesign their products with Berardi and luthier Phil Petillo. Beginning in 1983, Kramer guitars took on a more Stratshaped appearance and all-wooden necks. Calling these “Pacer” models, Kramer began to feature a double-locking tremolo made by Rockinger, a German company. Eddie Van Halen appeared in ads with a Pacer series guitar and the tremolo was listed as the “Eddie Van Halen Tremolo.” It was during this time that a new contraption by a guitar tech named Floyd Rose entered the scene. It was a double-locking tremolo, much like the Rockinger, but it had a two-point floating pivot rather than the six-screw anchoring of the Rockinger. As Kramer continued to evolve, they discontinued the use of the Rockinger and began using the Floyd Rose tremolo, which was exclusive to all Kramer guitars by 1984. By then, Kramer had started adding other body shapes with exotic graphic paint jobs.
At that time, in order to get a Floyd on your Charvel/Jackson guitar (or any other custom manufactured guitar), you had to buy one and send it to them to put it on your order. Kramer owned the rights and distribution to the Floyd Rose until the late eighties. As an alternative to the Floyd Rose, companies offered the Kahler tremolo bridge, which was more like a moving tailpiece that passed the strings over roller saddles. One key point of difference was that it stayed in tune with the use of a lockpiece on the headstock behind an existing nut. It proved less desirable because this design didn’t eliminate friction at the nut, and the tailpiece didn’t have enough of a break angle to increase sustain. The Floyd Rose was preferable because of its tuning stability and sustain.
Kramers had all the custom hot-rod options already done to them: high-output pickups, a Floyd Rose tremolo, flat-radius necks and flashy paintjobs. It seemed they had taken what Charvel had started and mass marketed it. Soon, players everywhere needed to have guitars that were “souped-up” with the appointments introduced into the mainstream by these east and west coast branches of the guitar industry. They were highly influential and became the standards to follow. Guitar playing had gone into a whole new realm, and shredding was becoming a competitive sport. Even more traditional rock players like Peter Frampton and Neal Schon were using customized hot-rodded guitars that suited their playing styles.
To Mod, or Not to Mod?
The general components needed to hot-rod a guitar were focused on increasing the performance capability of the electric guitar—as I had done to my Les Paul, increasing sustain by changing the tailpiece and the bridge pickup. It was finding a way to improve my guitar to meet the standards of the playing trends before finally buying a new guitar that met those standards more completely. But there were those who didn’t want a new guitar. If there was a will, there was a way. These discerning players chose the modifying route. Replacement parts saw a boom in sales during this time period. It began with the pickup.
The pickup I put in my Les Paul was a Gibson Dirty Fingers humbucker. It was a gnarly pickup that put a lot of sizzle into my tone. The salesman who showed me my options put a wide variety in front of me. DiMarzios filled the display case, along with a bunch of other replacement parts. DiMarzio was one of the first companies to offer such a wide variety of replacement parts—that also included necks, bodies and hardware. But their main product was their headspinning array of pickups. Seymour Duncan would later arrive on the scene as major competition, making even more tonal options available.
As the years went by, a huge assortment of other parts companies appeared, making it possible for any guitarist to hot-rod to their heart’s delight. There were electronic gadgets available to make your guitar scream, provide endless amounts of sustain, and even shoot out lasers.
Of the more outstanding parts companies was Warmoth from Puyallup, Washington. As mentioned earlier, it was a company born out of the Charvel legacy. Lynn Ellsworth and Ken Warmoth put together a company that made a whole host of Strat-compatible necks and bodies using premium and exotic woods. They did everything in-house and built a large enough market for guitarists to begin doing their own customization on a massive scale. Other similar companies, like Mighty Mite, Chandler and Zolla, were very good and affordable, too. All of them gave guitarists the ability to hot-rod guitars at home or have their local guitar repair guy slap something together for them.
In 1987, I decided to take a stab at building a guitar. How hard could it be? I had a Charvel and a Kramer, but at that point I wanted to see if I could make one just as good or better than what I had. I ordered a Warmoth neck and body; I collected other hardware—from screws to bolts and wiring; and got a humbucking Seymour Duncan pickup to make this dang thing. Once I had gotten a Floyd Rose tremolo, I went at it, using the Charvel and the Kramer as my cheat sheet. From building this guitar, I began to develop a true understanding of how a guitar works… everything from a pickup’s peak resonance to the sustain factor of wood combinations, to the correct balance point of a Floyd Rose.
During this time, guitarists could be seen with augmentations to classic guitars. There were Les Pauls with locking tremolos on them. There were Strats with one or two humbuckers in them. There were the true hot rods, like Kramer and Jackson. Newer competition from companies like ESP and Fernandes appeared, having been influenced by the hot rod movement. Ibanez got a rebirth at this time, developing their now famous RG series.
What Goes around Comes Around
As with everything in life, all good things come to an end. With the demise of the hard rock scene, guitarists reverted back to rock music’s more humble beginnings, citing simplicity as key. Along with this revival, the guitar world reverted back to the Gibsons and Fenders that were the tools of our forefathers. The nineties ushered in the vintage market, and the hot rod revolution was over. While Jackson guitars continued, Kramer went bankrupt and closed up shop.
It seemed like kids who grew up in the eighties and were now of age had gone into their dad’s closet to see what made their dads hip. What they found was dad’s old Crosby, Stills & Nash records, along with dad’s old Les Paul and Fender Super Reverb. Coming into their own, that generation took its inheritance and started their own bands, following dad’s lead. Suddenly, what was old was new again. Gibson and Fender seemed to undergo a much-needed revival, bringing back the regal stature of electric guitar. I embraced it for a while myself, but I missed the high-octane, six-string flamethrower I had wielded in the previous decade.
At the turn of the millennium, things became a bit complacent, and music trends changed again. The nineties had given us a lot of dark, brooding images, and guitar playing had gone off the beaten path toward odd tunings and other techniques that weren’t as challenging as they once had been. However, in 2002 Ozzy Osbourne fell victim to reality television, and metal was being exposed to an entirely new generation. The kids who grew up in the nineties were maturing—just as in the previous decade, they went through dad’s closet to find out what made him hip. When they found Judas Priest records, they discovered some fierce guitar playing. And they found dad’s Charvels, Jacksons, Kramers, ESP’s and Ibanez guitars, along with his Marshall amp. They took up those guitars and started learning Van Halen riffs.
The return of the hot rod guitar has come, and we’re seeing a much needed shot in the arm. Newer, technically advanced players are again being provided with the appropriate tools, along with the enhancements of much more sophisticated technology. Things are more precise, and guitar makers are introducing products that may take us beyond what we already knew about guitar construction. We have computer-driven machinery that makes things more accurate, but the old-school minds are still at work. Things have come full circle, but guitar design innovations continue evolving to fit the high performance needs of accomplished guitarists around the world. Of course, no new revolution will ever recapture the humble beginnings of that shop in Azusa.
Pedals, pedals, and more pedals! Enter Stompboxtober Day 13 for your shot at today’s pedal from Electro-Harmonix!
Electro-Harmonix Hell Melter Distortion Pedal
With its take on the cult-classic, chainsaw distortion pedal, the EHX Hell Melter takes distortion to its extremes. The Hell Melter features expanded controls and tonal capabilities, allowing the already in-your-face sound of the pedal to broaden by switching to more open clipping options and boosting the internal voltage for increased headroom, less compression, and more attack.
Originally designed as the ultimate in high-gain tone, this world-famous distortion circuit is known for the death metal sounds of Sweden’s Entombed and the shoegaze wash of My Bloody Valentine. It’s even found a home in the rig of David Gilmour!
The EHX Hell Melter’s expanded control set includes Gain and Level controls, and a powerful active EQ featuring with parametric mids for improved versatility. The Dry level control allows for blending your input signal for improved low-end when used with a bass or even blending in other distorted tones.
Boost Footswitch engages an input gain boost and volume boost which is internally adjustable. The Normal/Burn switch toggles between the classic chainsaw sound and the more open clipping option.
John Mayer Silver Slinky Strings feature a unique 10.5-47 gauge combination, crafted to meet John's standards for tone and tension.
“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.