Dawes and Langhorne Slim
November 6th at the Independent, San Francisco

I actually first heard Dawes when Crawdaddy! editor Michael Harkin hit the road with them via Daytrotter’s Barnstormer a month or so back and did this great piece on the experience. I was taken by their beautifully crafted songs and Taylor Goldsmith’s voice, rich and full of soul, but also capable of unleashing this antiquated, all-American bellow. Dawes was initially, surprisingly, a post-punk band who called themselves Simon Dawes, but their new record, North Hills, channels the Laurel Canyon sound of the ‘70s—think Neil Young, the Band, and the Byrds… this is totally listenable stuff. Dawes has a big sound that is totally commercially viable, so I can easily see them filling a larger space like the Fillmore in no time at all. On Friday night at the Independent in support of New York City troubadour Langhorne Slim, the California bred quartet played tracks directly from their album (but for one slow, somnambulant song they identified as, simply, a “new one they had never played before”).

At the end of the set, which included my album favorites the rousing “When My Time Comes” and the tender, pretty “Love Is All I Am”, drummer Griffin Goldsmith (yep, Taylor’s brother) led vocal duties for the last song, which then gave way to a showcase of brotherly harmonies, which was pretty cool. Dawes also let loose, at one point extending into a guitar and piano jam that came out of nowhere, but serving to prove they do have the impetus to explore their respective instruments and the way they fit together within the confines of that rock ‘n’ roll soul—great to see in an up-and-coming band whose sound is so plaintive. Expect to see Dawes gain a larger following over the coming months as more and more people become familiar with their music.

Next up, Langhorne Slim. He’s an eccentric guy. Although, I recall the last time I saw him he was more docile, subdued, strumming his guitar with this beaten resignation and getting into introspective, singer-songwriter territory. Not tonight. Langhorne hit the stage running and did not relent. He was all sorts of wound up, but his band, which included an excellent stand-up bassist and a phenomenal banjo player, kept up with him every step of the way. Langhorne, rocking a sherpa-lined cap despite the soaring temperatures of the nearly-packed venue, was committed to owning that stage, and he took his performance to the rafters that night. An excellent display of live music indeed.

Watch: Dawes, “When My Time Comes” [at youtube.com]

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