[rating=8.00]
Dawes is nothing if not a discerning, intelligent group of musicians. Just a mere four months after the release of We’re All Gonna Die, the group made available (initially at no charge) a full-length live recording titled We’re All Gonna Live, taken from concerts early in 2017: perhaps not exactly a riposte to the commercially-slanted production efforts of one-time bandmate Blake Mills, this offering to the general public sent a message clarifying and subtext of chief composer Taylor Goldsmith’s originals on that record, i.e., ‘this record is not (all of) who we are.’
As if any further affirmation of the group’s stance were necessary, for the sixth Dawes album Passwords, the group’s (re-)enlisted original producer Jonathan Wilson. The man who oversaw North Hills and Nothing Is Wrong, thereby helping to craft a modern version of folk-rock–described at times as ‘the Laurel Canyon sound’ –supervises a progression of Dawes’ music so unerringly logical here, it’s as if there were no recordings released in the interim since their earliest team-ups.
Notwithstanding the relative commercial success or failure of its predecessor, Dawes’ latest album is far superior. As such, it may widen their audience, while also consolidating the established fan-base that may have been slightly alienated last time around. Track sequencing can be indispensable to the success of any album and here the group, in conjunction with Wilson, do not delay in declaring departure from the keyboard-dominated precursor: pointed electric guitars form the refrain of the opener “Living in the Future,” with Lee Pardini’s cinematic keyboards functioning as just a backdrop to the chorus.
Meanwhile, the latter’s organ lines inject an ominous air to successive stanzas Goldsmith sings, an atmosphere the guitarist/composer accentuates with his own solo. Dawes cover considerable ground in just shy of five minutes here and delivers a comparably quick change-up with its acoustic guitar dominated successor, “Stay Down:” the vivid hues Pardini paints here render moot the potential predictability of the titular leader’s vocal delivery. Taylor’s phrasing is otherwise a firmly entrenched facet of the quartet’s sound now and as such provides a stable focal point for diverse arrangements like that of “Crack the Case,” where acoustic piano frames more unplugged fretboard, the subdued mood of which Dawes’ touring guitarist Trevor Menear accentuates with his finely-etched slide work.
Ranging in duration from just over three to six minutes plus, the ten tracks of Passwords are well-paced, with “Feed the Fire” slotted in to enhance an almost indiscernible momentum that arises, through the emphasis on vocal harmonies. The first such instance of Dawes’ collective singing skill here, the harmonies are mixed between alternating strains of sitar and string and thus brings a poignant air to the cut. Similarly, the ingratiating tone of Taylor Goldsmith’s voice in the falsetto range on “My Greatest Invention,” belies the irony of the song, its depth indicative of the substance in his original songs. “Telescope” is as insistent as the prior track is insinuating, giving the lie to what may be the superficial impression Passwords is too quiet for its own good (it would definitely benefit from one more uptempo rocker within the final third of the album, however).
That said, Dawes do imbue this latest LP of theirs with the immediacy of a live performance. Its impact, however, is subdued, so the temptation arises to turn it up (as suggested by one aspect of the stylized graphics of the cover design), with a cut placed in the homestretch, “Mistakes We Should’ve Made:” recalling the antiseptic likes of the last album, this number becomes all-enveloping at high(er) volume, so it works effectively as contrast to its surroundings. As if to further embed that point, “Never Gonna Say Goodbye” radiates a warm intimacy.
Author Goldsmith cushions his outright expression of sentimentality there with the more worldly perspective he communicates via “Time Flies Either Way,” a most appropriate closing to the album. The potential profundity of such a composition lies not only in its combination of lyrics and melody, but in the delicacy with which Dawes sing and play it. It’s a tenuous balance to be sure, but, preserved in the moment by Wilson, it’s a rare sensation resonating throughout Passwords.
