Gabriel was playing outside of a gallery and people passed him as his trumpet blared.
“Do you know what happened to the walls of Jericho? I blew them down with my horn.”
“Are you the angel Gabriel?”
“Just call me your gay cousin Gabriel.”
I didn’t know what to make of that. It certainly was something to say if you wanted to make an impression.
– April 4, 2009. Downtown Los Angeles, outside the Hive Gallery.
Then in 2012 I hear a trumpet player in Old Town Pasadena. The man is much thinner than Gabriel, but he has the same sombrero, the same beat up trumpet. It sounds deflated, like the brass is no longer pristine. He smiles when I pass him on the street.
“Did you used to play in Downtown?”
“I’ve played everywhere. Thank you for noticing.”
– Pasadena, 2012.
There is this group in Los Angeles called the Mormons. They’re a band and they sound like a Devo-esque freak folk outfit. The Mormons wear bike safety gear on stage, but don’t let that dissuade you into thinking that they’re some sort of gimmick.
Sure why not. Eventually he had to get out and the show was over. But the impression they left was gosh darn special. Such polite boys.
I distinctly remember the night when Dawes took the small stage at Sunset Junction 2010. It was the magic hour, long after the sun has set, but early in the night, so the crowd are responsive and aware of what exactly is going on. Taylor Goldsmith, guitar, brought an intensity that few other acts would match that day.
Dawes’ Americana-folk sound soared and dipped, the type of group that could channel The Eagles, Steely Dan, or Neil Young. How appropriate that summer 2013 Dawes toured with Bob Dylan.
These photos originally appeared at Smashed Chair.