Tickets go on sale to the public Friday, October 21st at 10am

We wanted a musical drama.
An ensemble cast, with linked arms, kicking highly.

A transcription of a band meeting we haven’t even had yet…

A spotlight on a spotlight:
This one goes out to all the solos BETWEEN the solos.
To the Ands of 3… AND 4.

8 Legs and 8 arms, in a room, stretching deeper than they ever knew they could.
The Intros have Outros.
The Outros have Bridges.

Don’t like the Jam? ……. Just wait five minutes.

Like turtle doves in a snow storm, Fate has brought us together again with Producer and long time collaborator Jonathon Wilson. And for this, we are forever grateful.

our 8th studio record to date. Unless you don’t count the first seven, then this would be our DEBUT RECORD!

We left quite a mess out there, and if each person reading this picks up just one piece of trash on their way out…

Then we’ll leave this planet more beautiful than the day we found it

– Dawe

From the first downbeat, Good Luck With Whatever, the seventh studio Album  by the Los Angeles based rock band Dawes, sets a tone all its own. The album  unfurls with the crunchy chordal cadence of what could only be Goldsmith’s  guitar. As the band quickly hop their way aboard this rhythmic rail car, we find  ourselves thinking “Hey, these guys are pretty good. I’m so glad you dragged  me to see some live music!” — “Still Feel Like A Kid” serves as a reminder  that we all love a good filet, but there’s no shame in still ordering off the kids  menu from time to time. You can hear the eye contact in the room, you can see  the lyrics as they fly from Goldsmith’s mouth straight into your ears, you’ll find  yourself singing along to a song you’re hearing for the first time. It’s fresh, it’s  raw, it’s a four tiered seafood tower of all American ear candy. Think “I Don’t  Wanna Grow Up, I’m A Toys R Us Kid” meets “I Wanna Be Sedated”.  

Recorded at the historic RCA studios in Nashville Tennessee, the boys teamed  up with six time Grammy award winning producer Dave “Corn On The” Cobb  (Brandi, Jasi, Chrisi, Stergi, etc) and just decided to LET IT RIP. “We were out  in Nashville for just under 730 hours, or 1 human month” says bass player and  resident ‘problem child’ Wylie Gelber. “We wanted that sloth like urgency, that  cold heat, that all knowing curiosity. And me thinks that’s what we got.” The  arrangements are as lively as they are lovely, from the rapidly ruckus “Who Do  You Think You’re Talking To” to the robustly restrained “St. Augustine at Night”.  A culmination of their entire catalogue and career all wrapped up in nine tracks.  If you don’t know Dawes by now, you will never never never know them…  

Far from apathetic, Good Luck With Whatever is Dawes at their most  unapologetic. It’s sympathetic and magnetic, 50% genetic and highly kinetic.  Songs like “Didn’t Fix Me” and “Me Especially” showcase Goldsmith’s poetic  prowess perfectly; a historian of the human condition, transforming turmoil into  motor oil. Drop the tone arm down, turn the volume up, unplug the phone and  if you still feel nothing… call a doctor.  

Having self-released their music for the last 1/20 of a century, Dawes has now  joined forces with their former legal council now president of Rounder Records,  John P. Strohm. Attorney client privilege has been lifted. Finally without the  constraints of the fat cats up on Capitol Hill and their ever flowing spools of  bureaucratic red tape, Dawes and their beloved ex-ambulance chaser are  together again. Court is in session and they’re prepared to tell the truth, the  whole truth and nothing but the truth. 

“We’ve learned so much over the years about what it means to be A BAND”  says drummer/free range dog farmer Griffin Goldsmith, “I used to want all our  records to be ONLY drums, but I’m finally starting to realize, maybe a lil’ bass,  keys, guitars and vocals ain’t so bad after all.” How right he is, the ballet of  interplay between these four is nothing short of breathtaking. Where Griffin  dives, Wylie ducks. Where Taylor weaves, Lee is sure to bob. 

Dawes began their journey in the San Fernando Valley back in 2009, it was  the year of the Ox, but don’t be fooled, these guys are No Bulls#$t. Having  played with, for, and against some of rock’n roll’s most illustrious icons, the  merry men have picked up more than a few things when it comes to sticking  around and what it means to be a true BAND. “Sometimes I wish I did hate my  brother”, explains frontman/stuntman Taylor Goldsmith, “might sell us a few  more books… but the reality is, I can’t get enough of the guy! Scariest part  bout’ it all is, knowing we’re gonna be playing music together for a long, long  time.”  

“We’re a living breathing organism,” says keyboardist/San Jose’s 15th most  famous man, Lee Pardini. “People love to say, ‘this record sounds so THIS’ and  ‘that record sounds so THAT,’ but to us, it just sounds like Dawes. We make  records to document where we are at that time, but every time I check, it just  sounds like Griff, Taylor, Wylie and me.”  

Good Luck With Whatever is an unfiltered photograph of a band doing what  they do best. A moment in the timeline of 10 year old band who still possess  the wonderment and fearlessness of a 10 year old man. These guys learned to  rock before they could crawl and now it’s time to let em’ run. Ask any scientist  and they’ll tell you one thing… you can’t fake chemistry.

It’s been nearly a decade since Dawes first emerged from Southern California, carrying with them a roots-rock sound that nodded to the past – including the West Coast folksingers and cosmic country-rockers who chased a similar muse during the 1970s – while still pushing forward.

Over the years that followed their North Hills debut, the band evolved and electrified. The grooves deepened. The amplifiers grew louder. Once known for their honest approach to classic sounds, Dawes grew into something different: a forward-thinking, boundary-pushing band for the 21st century, willing to follow inspiration wherever it leads.

On the group’s sixth album, Passwords, that inspiration pulls guitarist/singer Taylor Goldsmith, drummer Griffin Goldsmith, bassist Wylie Gelber, and keyboardist Lee Pardini into their most universal, topical territory to date. This is a record about the modern world: the relationships that fill it, the politics that divide it, the small victories and big losses that give it shape. Taylor’s writing is personal at points – the result of his recent engagement, which lends a sense of gravity and self-reflection to album highlights like “Time Flies Either Way” and “I Can’t Love” – but it also zooms out, focusing not on the director himself, but on everything within the lens.

“When I wrote ‘Most People,’ I was trying to get into this headspace of writing about someone else,” he says, name-checking the band’s Triple A radio hit from 2013’s Sto-ries Don’t End. “I didn’t want to grow into the kind of songwriter who only talks about himself, especially when we’re living in such a unique moment in history. Many of these songs are an attempt to come to terms with the modern world, while always trying to consider both sides of the story.”

“At the same time,” he adds. “I’m also writing about the shifts in my own life, including getting married. Together, the songs process some dark moments – paranoia, anxiety, the wreckage of what you might’ve done in the past – and arrive at some sort of hope-ful resolution. I’m hoping it’s our first step into adulthood as a band.”

“Band” is the operative word here. This is the work of a group of road warriors who’ve carved out their blend of amplified folk-rock, bound together by blood (Taylor and Grif-fin are brothers, raised in the same Malibu home by musical parents) and a nine-year rise from the clubs of Los Angeles to theaters on both sides of the Atlantic. Their playing is nuanced and collaborative, with no single instrument dominating the track list. It’s no surprise, then, that other artists have chosen to collaborated with Dawes both onstage and in the studio, from Jim James to the Killers. It’s also no surprise that these songs, although largely written alone by Taylor (with co-writer Jason Boesel contributing to three tracks), shine a light on Dawes’ full lineup.

Like a highlights reel of the albums that preceded it, Passwords bounces between gui-tar-driven indie rock (the anthem, atmospheric “Living In The Future”); slick grooves (“Feed the Fire”); blue-eyed SoCal soul (“My Greatest Invention”); and modern folk (“I Can’t Love,” “Stay Down”). At the same time, the album also embraces a spacier, experimental approach. Playing a key role in that sound is keyboardist Pardini – the band’s newest member, having joined the roster not long after the release of 2015’s All Your Favorite Bands – whose analog keyboards push the band far beyond their Americana origins.

“Lee can make amazing sounds out of any instrument,” Taylor enthuses. “He could pull a great tone out of a shoe. Even on a song like ‘Stay Down,’ which is largely acoustic-based and organic, he found a keyboard sound that had a futuristic, mariachi, post-apocalyptic feel.”

Also catapulting the bandmates into new territory is producer Jonathan Wilson, a long-time friend who produced the band’s first two albums. Years before Dawes toured the globe with artists like Kings of Leon, ELO, Bob Dylan, Mumford & Sons, Conor Oberst, and Jackson Browne, they recorded their first songs in Wilson’s studio, developing their sound along the way. Passwords marks their reunion.

“Part of the DNA of Dawes was shaped by Jonathan, much like your first serious girl-friend dictates how you approach relationships for the rest of your life,” Taylor says. “Those first two Dawes records have a certain essence to them. We were figuring out who we were. When it came time to produce our sixth album, why not go back to the guy who started it all with us?”

The band spent three and a half weeks in the studio, focusing on full-band performances that were tracked live – including Taylor’s vocal takes – rather than multiple rounds of overdubs. The result is a warm, lived-in album that spotlights Dawes’ strength as a live act. At its heart, though, Passwords is also a record rooted in craft and consideration. From “Living In The Future,” which encourages its listener to serve as a bright light during darker times, to “Crack the Case,” a timely call for patience and empathy in an age of political partisanship, Passwords uses its words wisely, unfolding with well-reasoned articulation and pointed punch. Rarely has Dawes created such an appropriate soundtrack for the modern age.

“Passwords comes from a line in ‘Living In The Future’: ‘It’s the battle of the pass-words,’” Taylor points out. “So there is a slight political implication – the idea that something so seemingly innocuous and frivolous can potentially shift the direction of a life or even a country. But more broadly than that, a password – this series of numbers, letters and figures – serves as a thin veil between a world you can see and understand, and one you can’t. That means songs can be passwords, too, because they’re a means of giving access to someone else’s perspective, thereby elaborating your own. Songs can unlock something in you, change something, tighten something, enlighten some-thing, or gain access into deeper corners, and that idea makes referring to a collection of songs as Passwords feel really good.”