It would appear we have Patty Griffin and Richard Thompson to thank - at least in part - for this fine, fine album, and perhaps for Dawson’s return to writing and performing at all. He had stopped creating music in 2017, engulfed by depression triggered by close deaths in the family and long seated issues that had remained unresolved in his psyche.
He had lost his will to create the music that made him as a popular figure in Americana circles both under his own name, with his wife as Dolly Varden, and with fusion band Funeral Bonsai Wedding. By his own admission, he needed to find out if he “still cared enough about music to keep making it”.
It would appear that a songwriting retreat in the Catskill Mountains, with Thompson, and particularly Griffin showed him a way forward that was was both cathartic and redemptive. Songs flowed and a number of albums were lauded by critics.
However, this new album sees him reach new levels in his songwriting; a throwback to the soul-bearing of the 70s troubadours of Laurel Canyon.
One could pick almost any song on this record and find wisdom and grace. Take these lines from ‘Forgiveness Is Nothing Like I Thought It Would Be’, where the writer comes to the realisation that true awareness comes from your own acceptance of harm committed, and a desire to move on, rather than the other person’s willingness to accept it with favour.
Oh, forgiveness is nothing like I thought it would be. There’s a strange peace in the valley where the rage used to feed and I wish you well out on your island in the sea. And I release you, I release, I release you.
‘She Knew’ speaks to his troubled relationship with his mother, who tormented by depression and alcoholism sought to take her life when Dawson was only 11 years old. Mother and son remained distant for years and only came to some degree of connection, shortly before she died.
All the pain and suffering we would try to understand. And the moment we’d realize everyone dies in the end. I am not old. I am not young. I have a list of things to do. Yes, the sun did rise today. I offer this song of gratitude.
This is gut-wrenching stuff, all delivered in a voice that thankfully is warm, comforting, strong, and resonant.
It’s not all doom and gloom. ’22 Rubber Bands’ tells the blink and you’ll miss it incident of a father and son collecting rubber bands found in the street. We’re not told where they came from. It’s just a joint venture that means nothing to anyone else but in that small activity and space of time, so much love can pass between the two.
I never loved anything the way that I love you – impossible and all the way deep through. I know that I made a lot of mistakes, 22 tiny rubber bands in one day. I loved those days when nothing was happening.
Reminiscent of Paul Simon’s ‘Father And Daughter’, this is such a beautifully unsentimental song, that sums up an emotion so difficult to verbalise.
That’s the gift on show here, putting ideas into song for us that we might struggle with; songs of friendship, of the need to embrace not destroy nature, relationships to be rescued, relationships to be savoured.
‘Hard Time Friend’ sounds like it has been a staple for years. It’s an ode to that acquaintance – whether real or yearned for, that is a constant companion through laughs, pain, and loss. Not everyone finds such a person so if you do, hold on to them tight.
My hard time friend when all the other good-time buddies have all run from the wind. My hard time friend.
There are so many great tunes on this record; ‘Beautiful Mathematics’, ‘Time To Remember’, and the title track, all add another layer to a work of real depth.
Part melodic, meditative thought on modern life, part family therapy for the writer, with searingly honest lyrics about his relationship with his parents, part a hymn to the mysteries of nature and a love of life, it’s a record that rewards repeated listening.