Steve Dawson, like many other songwriters, is an empath. And like many other songwriters and empaths, he has a way of processing losses at a personal and societal level at the same time. Take “Sooner Than Expected,” a song that mourns everyone from relatives who passed on to the increasingly hostile climate. Both were things Dawson knew would happen, but both seem to be occurring on an accelerated timeline.
It’s a gorgeous song, one of a few that shows Dawson only gains strength when he sings more softly. His vocals have a quality that allows for slight breaks on sensitive topics and he’s an expert highlighting them with sparse instrumentation.
In our conversation, Dawson discussed facing the anxiety of a rapidly changing world, specifically when it comes to forces like death and climate change that no individual songwriter has the power to battle.
“I try to take deep breaths and enjoy what I’m doing for the day,” Dawson said of his coping mechanisms. “Other days I’m filled with anxiety. It’s very helpful to talk in real time breathing the same air. Focusing on my insignificance is actually helpful to me.”
Still, he worries about those forces and about a population that seems indifferent to destroying our institutions.
“When I see that half of the country is desiring retribution and this authoritarian world, it makes me very angry,” Dawson said, contrasting his “reasonable” liberal community in Chicago with his upbringing in Idaho.
“Leadville,” a scorched-earth song documenting the questionable behavior that went on in his small town, was written as an answer to songs that idolize small town life.
“It’s a reaction to a lot of mythologizing that goes on in a lot of Americana and country songs about small towns and how those people are better than others,” Dawson said. “There’s plenty of horrible people in small towns just like everywhere else.”
“Try that in a Small Town,” a violent Jason Aldean song with a music video that featured racist undertones, was the first that came to Dawson’s mind that fit the description. The bad behaviors mentioned in “Leadville” feel so believable both because of how specific the descriptions are and how much some of the characters could’ve been ripped from a recent news story. Some of the offenders, like a handsy principal, probably get a pass due to their politics. Others, like the hedonistic restaurant employees, are just being ‘good old boys’ without realizing that their lifestyle isn’t exactly kind to the women they brag about.
Idaho was not exactly the ideal place for Dawson to grow up. He very much had different values than people around him and was bullied.
“I kept to myself,” He explained of his childhood. “That’s where I learned guitar.”
“Leadville,” with its angry drive and its increasingly less matter of fact tone, is the most compelling up tempo song on the album. But it’s the quieter songs and ballads where Dawson is absolutely unreal.
“A Mile South of Town” is an intimate and detailed look at an accident scene he came across years ago in Idaho. While driving, he came across a man, once riding a nearby motorcycle, and a deer laying in the road dying.
“That image has just stuck with me my whole life,” Dawson said. “I got out of my car and I did look at the deer and its eyes were open and it was breathing fast and I got the sense that it was panicking. I probably made more of a connection with the deer, because the guy was passed out and clearly had been drinking pretty heavily.”
Dawson makes the bold stylistic decision to sing from the perspective of the man who crashed. Since he never learned who the man was or what his ultimate fate was, Dawson invented details of his life that sound broadly believable for the community he lived in. The narrator’s calm observations, prediction of being discovered too late, and empathy for the deer all heighten the atmosphere around the unusual and dark situation. There’s no anger toward the deer that essentially ended both their lives; it’s just a simple and deep connection between an animal scared to die and a man processing it a bit easier.
Lighter tracks like “Time to Let Some Light In” and “I am Glad to be Alive” bring some much needed balance to the album, but the lyrics aren’t quite as unique or powerful as some of the darker songs or mood pieces. “Weather in the Desert,” which details a friend’s failed suicide effort, move from a respectful acknowledgement of what happened (“It was a solid plan”) to a desire for small talk. Here Dawson’s rambling style works better. The anchor of near tragedy means that any awkward moments or lost threads feel like a natural part of a conversation. “Walking Cane,” a song that documents repeated failures to wrestle climate change, feels the most urgent. “Oh, California” has the strongest harmonies. But it’ll be the thought of looking into those deer’s eyes and surrendering that will stay with listeners the longest.
Above is the full episode as aired on WUSB’s Country Pocket, including both my interview with Steve Dawson and the songs we discussed, starting with A Mile South of Town, which mines a strange subject for one of the most striking images painted by a song. The interview begins with the second video in the playlist. You can hear the show live every Monday at 11am on WUSB 90.1 FM or check the blog to watch it as a YouTube playlist. Visit http://www.WUSB.fm and https://stevedawsonmusic.com for more.
Country Pocket 