Drive-By Truckers
Go-Go Boots
Release date: 2/15/2011 ATO Records

Far more than on any of the Drive-By Truckers' previous albums, Go-Go Boots rises like smoke from the old Muscle Shoals country-and-soul sound. Having recorded with Bettye LaVette and Booker T. Jones, and having spent a lifetime listening to classic soul albums by Bobby Womack, Tony Joe White, and especially Eddie Hinton, it was inevitable that the Truckers eventually produce this album.
We knew they were pin-your-ears-back rock and roll. But here in Go-Go Boots, the Truckers are country, and here, too, the Truckers are soul and rhythm and blues.
It looks funny, on paper—the words country/soul mashed up like that—but maybe in the end it comes down to this one shared ethos: the harder life gets, the more clamantly it calls for art, for music, for beauty—for the slow celebration of loss or pain that is mournfully, beautifully defiant.
It seems a paradox that while the Drive-By Truckers' sound is so unique; it is still part of a greater and larger family. Some of the other greats—particularly in the South—were spawned from their culture, while others came from the deeper rootstock of the southern landscape itself. Of course in the long run the landscape has a significant say in what kind of culture develops; it's all tangled together, all connected, and everything shares bits and strands of those fragments, again like a pastiche of random and beautiful genomes. Each of the three vocalists—Cooley, Patterson, Shonna—is distinct; each aches in its own way with sometimes gravelly and other-times smooth sweet wistful broken-glass hurt and yearning and reluctant. Patterson's songs, of course are almost always willing, in the great Southern tradition, to take on the Man—or anyone else—as are Cooley's, when the cause is big and just.
Their sound—so distinctly theirs—comes nonetheless from history and the past. It's all a big tangled beautiful mess, and it all comes out of Muscle Shoals, where, as Patterson's father, legendary bassist David Hood, astutely notes, the South once did something right with respect to race relations, once-upon-a-time, and when it most mattered.
In their documentary, The Secret to a Happy Ending, Patterson speaks of the South's "duality thing." Visually, the documentary shows a symbolism of this duality nicely: the fecund green clamor of summer (play it loud), insects shrilling high in the canopy as if giving voice to a fever in the land that may or may not be a madness; and in winter, the bare raw limbs, the signature of a thing—things—going away. Similarly, the Truckers, while walking on the dark side of the street in their songs, seem, despite it all, unable to avoid stumbling into cathedrals and columns of light, as in "Mercy Buckets."
A little about Go-Go Boots: it doesn't make a lot of sense for me to wax long about what you're going to hear,. The incantatory, almost child-like refrain of clamant happiness, "I do believe/I do believe," with its big-band rock-chord
super-anthem kicking in, then—a song about family, and the memory of being loved—a rock song about one's grandmother!—sets the tone for all that is to follow, fireplace poker bludgeoning be damned.
You hear the bona fide country in Cooley's "Cartoon Gold," complete with rambling banjo run, and the undefinable ache and wonder at life, in the vocals—and you hear the I've-been-done-wrong-by-life-bit-am-still-here, still-hurting, hurting-so-good slowing-down soul sound.
So many of the songs on this album will end up being favorite's, and anyway, it's not fair to say one song's better than any other—but damn, the first Eddie Hinton song on this album—"Everybody Needs Love"—is awfully fine. The Truckers hardly ever cover anyone else's songs, but here they've chosen two by their late friend, Hinton. This is a big deal and when you hear the two songs you'll understand what a good idea it is. You'll also see how directly their country-soul sound resonates with his.
What is country-soul? The glib description, "You can't pin it down but you know it when you hear it," isn't very satisfying. It's not enough to say it's funky, or has "that slow steady soul beat, that drive." It's not enough, technically, to say it places John Neff's pedal steel with Jay Gonzalez' B-3 and piano, or, on other songs, his Wurlitzer—but that's true enough, too. Maybe the best way to understand what country-soul is is to listen to Everybody Needs Love again. It's got a great vocal reach—a beautiful, no-holds-barred straining greatness—mixed with the Memphis backside style of drumming—compliments of Brad Morgan—that Al Jackson made famous on Wilson Pickett's "Midnight Hour." Here, it's perfectly in sync with the story, and the mood, the message. It's got the great back-up chorus coming in, the piano and Hammond B-3 assuming greater authority, the farther into the song you go. We could be talking about genetic strands being inlaid, so deeply and intensely does this sound take over a listener. After only a couple of playings, it seems like the song inhabits you, has always been in you. This is what constitutes a classic.
The DBTs are getting to that age where, battered and scarred, they have deeper wonder for the fact that they've survived. They're not any wiser—they were born wise, have always been wise, possessing the instincts (a gift of their landscape) that Flannery O' Connor (who almost surely would have been a DBT fan) called "wise blood." But with their old wisdom, they have the compassion of the survivors, now.
Sweet, you say? How can a song about a preacher bludgeoning his wife with a fireplace poker be sweet? Well, they are still the DBTs, after all. Maybe that one's not the sweetest of the bunch. But even it has something intangible in the sound—something less dark, less desperate: something that is somehow fuller.
There's something else in these songs—happiness. Not joy, but the rare, more sustainable and enduring thing, a happiness earned by exploring the darkness, and surviving.
Something undefinable has changed within the Truckers. They're still rocking on, but a few more strands of lightness of being, and happiness, have infiltrated their being. They're happier. Do not hold this against them, nor worry that it will corrupt their blues and rock, their snarl and anguish. Instead, the happiness will continue to whet these things—the things for which their old fans love them. Theirs is an earned happiness, and therefore does not temper or weaken their sound. Indeed, this new light forges the sound—the rock. You can hear it in every chord. It's their finest yet.

Rick Bass
Missoula, Montana
November 2010

Publicity: Traci Thomas / 615-664-1167 / traci@thirtytigers.com

A self-described "American rock 'n' roll band," Dawes represent everything pure and true about that fundamental delineation, four talented friends making music together, fueled by a shared belief in the power of their songs. With Nothing Is Wrong, the Los Angeles-based band – singer/guitarist Goldsmith, his brother Griffin on drums, keyboardist Tay Strathairn, and bassist Wylie Gelber – continue to master their blend of singer/songwriter reflection with folk, country, and AOR-inspired arrangements, all ringing guitars, soaring harmonies, and heartfelt melodies. After spending much of the past two years on tour, songs like "Coming Back To A Man" and "Time Spent In Los Angeles" have a restless, unsettled quality evocative of life lived on the road. A collection of songs that expertly builds upon the template laid by 2009's extraordinary debut, North Hills, Nothing Is Wrong sees Dawes displaying staggering growth and evolution while still manifesting their distinctive, unforgettable voice.

"We didn't change up our approach too much and yet we were able to create something that I feel has a new identity from our first record," Goldsmith says. "It's definitely taking a step in a direction and at the same time, it's maintaining what it needs to maintain."

In 2009, Dawes emerged from the ashes of California combo Simon Dawes with North Hills, which drew instant acclaim for its rootsy revitalization of classic El Lay rock. And like any American rock 'n' roll band worth its salt, Dawes followed up by touring nearly non-stop. As a result, Goldsmith was only able to write during rare free moments, in the course of brief visits home or while crashing at a friend's for a few days. No surprise then that songs like "My Way Back Home" and "How Far We've Come" (featuring Griffin on lead vocals) are redolent of van fumes and road dust, rich with weariness and longing and restive reflection.

"Both of these Dawes records have been written in a one-to-two year span of time," Goldsmith says. "With North Hills, there was an 'I just want to go somewhere and experience things' quality. And then with this record, we're in the thick of going out and playing shows and being on tour."

Dawes took advantage of their situation by using the stage as a way to focus and arrange the new material. Songs got to live and breathe in front of an audience rather than in the hermetic confines of a rehearsal space.

"That helped the songs grow so much," Goldsmith says. "The songs became tighter, more aggressive even. The first record was written for a band that wanted to be a band, the second record was written by a band that was able to get on stage and explore things that we hadn't explored yet."

Goldsmith took a brief break from the band to record with friends and tourmates John McCauley of Deer Tick and Matt Vasquez of Delta Spirit as the collaborative supergroup Middle Brother, and in September 2010, Dawes reunited with producer Jonathan Wilson at his new Echo Park studio. A gifted singer/songwriter/musician in his own right, Wilson has proven a true kindred spirit whose vision and tastes are in perfect sync with the band.

"We're so lucky to know him," Goldsmith says. "It's really crazy how good he is at everything."

As with North Hills, Dawes opted to record Nothing Is Wrong live to 2" analog tape. Far from just an exercise in nostalgic authenticity, the band sees the more traditional technique as a way of focusing their energies and affirming their dedication to the creative process.

"If you're writing on a typewriter," Goldsmith says, "you have to commit to whatever you're writing. Typewriters don't make it easy for you to go back and rethink things. Same thing with recording analog. We don't do it because that's what the people we admire did. We do it because it demands something out of us. It doesn't allow us to show up lazy or not on our game. We cut every track knowing that this stuff isn't easy to edit."

Nothing Is Wrong captures both Dawes' studio and stage approaches, matching the loose extemporaneity and crunchy dynamism of the band's live sets with finely honed arrangements and deft musicianship. The album evinces the band's self-assured strength right from the start by bursting off the blocks with the impossibly infectious "Time Spent In Los Angeles." Throughout the record, Goldsmith's lyrics evoke a powerful feeling of constant movement and endless fleeting moments. Songs like "The Way You Laugh" or the choogling "If I Wanted Someone" are wistful and melancholic, while the ruminative, piano-driven closing track "Little Bit Of Everything" (featuring lap steel guitarist Ben Peeler) is peopled with indelible characters encountered on his travels.

Along with critical approbation and an ever-growing fan following, Dawes has earned admiration from many of their greatest heroes. Benmont Tench of The Heartbreakers joined the band on organ on both North Hills and Nothing Is Wrong, while the new album's "Fire Away" sees guest vocals from Jackson Browne, who has since invited the band to both support and back him on a European tour. In addition, after Goldsmith contributed vocals to Robbie Robertson's star-studded new How To Become Clairvoyant, the legendary guitarist/songwriter asked Dawes to serve as his backing combo for a number of promotional performances, sensing in them the character of a true band, a tight knit unit who know how to work together and instinctively play off each other's individual gifts.

"It's hard to accept and believe," Goldsmith says. "It doesn't seem like it should possibly happen. Experiences like these are why we do it. Before playing in front of huge audiences and before selling a lot of records, before all those things that people are looking for when they decide to play music, for me, sharing these experiences with the people I grew up listening to, getting their acknowledgement or respect, that's right at the top, the number one reason and the most rewarding thing that could happen."

While Nothing Is Wrong marks a new milestone on this remarkable band's musical journey, it remains but a single step on all involved see as a long-term trip. For Dawes, the aim is always about turning it up and taking their music even further.

"Our attitude is always, what can we do to take it to the next place?" Goldsmith says. "To share our music with more people, make better music, and be happier people through our music."

Pug packed up his belongings and drove the longest route possible to Chicago. Working as a carpenter by day, the 23 year-old Pug spent nights playing the guitar he hadn't picked up since his teenage years. Using ideas originally slated for a play he was writing called "Austin Fish," Pug began creating the sublime lyrical masterpiece that would become the Nation of Heat EP.

The songs were recorded fast and fervently at a Chicago studio where a friend snuck him in to late night slots other musicians had canceled. He was short on money, but his bare-boned sincerity didn't require much more than a microphone and it dripped off of each note he sang.

In May of 2008, Pug played the first headlining slot of his young career to a sold out crowd at Chicago's storied Schubas Tavern. Two weeks later he released the Nation of Heat EP, which has garnered near-universal critical acclaim and established him as one of the most respected songwriters of his generation. Pug has since played shows with Todd Snider, Susan Tedeschi, Kasey Chambers, and James Hunter. He plans to release his debut full length record in 2009.