Dawes at the Majestic

I haven't been posting here (had some other writing projects in the works), but I was so frustrated about this show that I wanted to write something about it. Still love the band, but I won't know what their new songs sound like until I buy the album, unfortunately. Here's why.

After listening to Dawes' release, 'North Hills,' for over a year, and then watching their high-energy set of 70s-influenced country-rock at the Terrace this summer, I was looking forward to seeing them at Majestic Madison on Nov. 12.

But I was disappointed.

Their three-part sun-drenched harmonies were still there. Their lyrics haven't changed. Their musicianship has only improved. So what happened?

The Majestic happened.

The venue, one of my favorites, with its funky retro architecture and warm red glow, let me down last night. A set that could have had the roomful of PBR tallboy-nursing hipsters rocking and bopping and throwing its arms in the air for 75 minutes achieved that result precisely ONE time, at the end of the night.

For the rest of the show, lead singer and guitarist Taylor Goldsmith's face was veiled in shadow, and the glorious harmonies that bolster this band's melody-driven romantic songwriting were veiled in tooth-thrumming, wall-trembling bass. It was like the stage crew from my high school's drama club was running this show, more interested in perfecting their secret flashlight code and congratulating each other on their work than in getting results for the guys onstage.

The stage lights were low or off for most of Dawes’ performance, then turned into a Stone Mountain Laser Light Show for the band's biggest hit and last song of the set, 'When My Times Comes.' Those lights danced, flooded the singalong crowd, and finally let us see Goldsmith's face. Giving us absolutely no buildup for 70 minutes and then a light show explosion just felt, um...adolescent.

And soundwise, I'm all for feeling the room shake when a band plays, but Dawes could have gotten us to that point on the strength of their commitment to the songs and their skill as lyricists and vocalists. The moments when the guys climbed into their harmonies and hung there, escalating to the songs' peaks, would have pulled in the crowd more effectively and more permanently if we could've heard the lyrics behind the melodies too.

Instead, we halfheartedly swayed, checked our cellphones, tried to chat despite the deafening noise, and pinballed drunkenly off the ramp toward the bathrooms. Except for the last song, when the stage lights finally came up and everyone invested, sang along, threw our arms in the air, and felt what we came to feel.

I will say this for the night: it was novel. Coming to see a band whose album I'd been singing along with for months and leaving feeling like I'd watched a one-hit wonder was a new one on me.