222. Song No. 3,371: “Fire Away,” Dawes
Nothing is Wrong, 2011

A sudden glut of Dawes is kind of nice, honestly. The songs I love of theirs are songs I love because they’re uncomfortably but cathartically relatable earworms that just feel so good to belt out from a place I didn’t even know had such an embarrassment of unacknowledged feelings, and “Fire Away” is such a great example of that.

I don’t want to paint this band as one that I’m utterly meh about or have mixed feelings toward. I’d see them live again in a heartbeat, and they do have entire albums that are song after song of tunes that I absolutely adore. It’s just hard to do justice to the bands I love but never established themselves as the ones that inspire gushing declarations of fangirl trilling. But I think the biggest strike against Dawes is that the Ben Lee-level of unabashed earnestness they bring to their music simply works better for a solo artist than for a band, since the authenticity of heartfelt confession both translates and lands better when it’s a single person attempting to extend that vulnerability rather than a whole bunch of dudes.

“Fire Away” works not just for the airy warmth and modern-day Laurel Canyon sound that defines Dawes at their best. It’s an outward-reaching song whose tendrils stubbornly unfurl across the emotional and physical distance that makes lovers and friends feel irretrievably engulfed by the yawning chasm between hearts, attempting to draw a hurting loved one closer not out of selfish attachment but in an attempt to grasp at comfort, camaraderie and connection to spite the kind of challenging times that can leave a person in soul-shattering isolation.

I’ve admittedly never been sure if this song is directed to the same person facing down escalating troubles, or if it’s to show that goodbye, recovery and existential crises all deal damage differently but demand the same compassion and assurance that the people one loves and relies on the most aren’t going to recede into permanent silence and will, instead, always be the ones waiting for a reunion and making do with long-distance demonstrations of stalwart devotion in the meantime. Either way, it’s a worthy anthem for anyone whose heart hurts on behalf of one they love as both parties mutually try to figure out what will help the most, whether it’s giving them someone to walk away from until they’re ready to tackle a personal hurdle as a team project, being someone to let them in without preamble or pretense, or simply to promise their love is mightier than any stumble, shift and sway that would send crumbling shockwaves through lesser bonds.

Now that the age of mounting peripheral tragedies has come and gone as more of the people I hold close to me have lost parents, partners, siblings, pets, friends, marriages and pregnancies, the ethos of “Fire Away” gets a little more poignantly real every time I encounter it. And coming back to it time and again is such a powerful teacher illustrating what a good support network does in the darkest of times to draw on their own experiences and empathy to be the quiet but constant beacon of hope for a hurting companion until they’re ready to face the dawn of a new chapter.