Getting six busy musicians together to make an album is challenging enough. Bringing them to a remote studio near the Arctic Circle in the dead of winter adds another layer of complexity. But isolation was part of the point for Rainbow Body. The new collective’s marquee names include Taylor and Griffin Goldsmith (Dawes), Rick Mitarotonda (Goose) and Eric Krasno (Lettuce, Soulive). They’re joined by guitarist/bassist Ross James (Phil Lesh & The Terrapin Family Band) and keyboardist Adam MacDougall (Black Crowes, Circles Around The Sun). Nicki Bluhm and Grammy winner Oteil Burbridge (Tedeschi Trucks Band, Allman Brothers Band) make guest appearances.
Rainbow Body’s self-titled debut (Flóki Studios) began taking shape in January, when the six core musicians gathered for a writing session in Southern California’s Topanga Canyon. A month later, they reconvened at Flóki Studios, a converted sheep farm in northern Iceland, where they hammered out eight improv-friendly tracks that draw on the classic rock, Americana, soul, folk and jam influences of the members. The project originated through Quoia, an initiative that brings together musicians in natural settings while supporting conservation efforts. In this case, proceeds from album sales benefit the North Atlantic Salmon Fund.
For fans of the Goldsmith brothers, Rainbow Body may feel like a free-flowing extension of the lengthy run times and inspired twists and turns that made 2022’s The Misadventures Of Doomscroller such a refreshing break from convention for Dawes.
“So much of the success of a Dawes song, to my mind, hinges on whether or not it functions with just an acoustic guitar and a vocal,” Taylor Goldsmith recently told MAGNET’s Hobart Rowland. “With Rainbow Body, all these compositional and improvisational sections added another dimension to a song’s fundamental meaning.”
Here’s more from the interview.
What was the initial creative atmosphere like in Topanga Canyon? Was there a moment when you discovered you could function as an actual band?
Yeah. I think it came together when we started working up an arrangement for the song “I Don’t Know What To Do With My Hands.” A distinct sound started to emerge. We felt like we had a flagship we could point the rest of the material toward. At that point, any concern about not finding an identity was out the window.
You’ve developed a particular musical language with your brother and Dawes bandmates. Did you approach songwriting differently knowing this bunch would be interpreting and contributing to your ideas?
Definitely. Some of the lyrical subjects and concepts are a little bit further out than what you might hear on a Dawes record. I’m thinking of songs like “I Don’t Know What To Do With My Hands” and “Blade Runner On The Big Screen.” I was eager to separate the points of view—so I’m glad songs like these showed up. I also let the beds of the music take a much bigger role in what the song would be.
It’s quite a contrast between the Southern California landscape and the isolation of northern Iceland in winter. How did those two environments affect the music?
I think nature played a massive role for all of us. But for me, it wasn’t necessarily in the nuances of the terrain. I don’t doubt that the ice and the mountains and the cold had a massive impact, but I feel like it was more in ways I couldn’t articulate, if I even clocked them at all. Whether it’s Iceland or Topanga, being out in nature gives you the opportunity to drill down on whatever you’re experiencing, whether that’s a hike or meditation … or making an album. I felt like we all sunk down so deep into that music in a way that wouldn’t have been possible if we were a block from a restaurant or our cars were in the parking lot. When there’s truly no distraction or even the possibility of distraction, creativity can be embodied in a way that I find to be otherwise impossible.
How did working on a project connected to the natural world change the subject matter you wanted to explore?
I don’t think it changed the “what” as much as it changed the “how” and the “why.” A lot of these songs are still dealing with human relationships and the search for meaning, but I felt like we reached our destinations in a much more connected and pure state than I have in the past. “From Mirror Lake” is explicitly about the forces of nature, but I couldn’t go back to that well over and over.
Travel is essential to how you make a living. Has the Rainbow Body project changed the way you think about it?
Maybe due to the realities of touring, I think musicians are more conscious than most about the environmental impact we all have on the planet. I think everyone looks for their own means of offsetting their footprints, and we’re always looking for new ways.
