The Dog Whisperer

Dave Matthews is on a quest. It’s a little artistic and a little spiritual, and its one he insists he’s been on for years. But with a major film role, his first studio album since Some Devil in 2003, and the addition of twins to his household life has clearly taken on some new dimensions.

In some ways, it’s nothing new for this acoustic-guitar-wielding rocker, whose wit, emotions and reflective nature have always crept into his lyrics—along with the customary wine and women, of course. But recently, Matthews’ introspection made its way to the big screen.

In Because of Winn-Dixie, directed by Wayne Wang, Matthews plays Otis, a mysterious pet shop owner who charms animals by playing the guitar. A metaphor, perhaps, for his job as a new father?

“Well, the film certainly didn’t pacify my twin daughters, who told me that we definitely had to get out of the theater,” he says, launching one furry eyebrow. “They tell it like it is.”

Where the Red Fern Grows, Matthews’ first and only film until this one, didn’t do well at the box office. But like Winn-Dixie, he chose it to inspire his kids.

“I’m drawn to things that … that have a kindness to them and a hopefulness and a sort of universal quality to them,” he says. “So far, it seems that’s been stories with dogs and kids.”

Unlike songs he’s written for other films, like The Matrix Reloaded and 21 Grams, the music Matthews penned for Because of Winn-Dixie offered a novel challenge. It had to entertain animals.

“When I first came out with it, I think it was more offending—some sort of drone. You know, roooooaaaarrrrrrr—something that resonated in the beast. But Wayne disagreed. I guess he wanted to at least entertain people who were watching the film,” he explains, with deadpan humor.

Entertain, the film does, in a way that’s gently reminiscent of My Dog Skip. But unlike that film, a nostalgic story about a boy growing up during World War II, Because of Winn-Dixie is a contemporary tale set in rural Florida.

Starring Jeff Daniels, Cicely Tyson and Eva Marie Saint, the film recounts the story of young Opal Buloni, daughter of a Baptist preacher who does his best to minister in his “church”—a converted convenience store. Opal’s mother left when she was young, and Opal struggles with loneliness. After adopting a stray mutt—that she names “Winn-Dixie,” for the store where she found him—Opal begins meeting people. With the help of some mystifying licorice candy, the pair gather the town’s outcasts and demonstrate that friendship is definitely the best remedy for solitude.

“Opal teaches all these people about that common place that we have,” Matthews says. “It’s a beautiful lesson—all these lonely people who have somehow lost their way, and she brings them together, with nothing but love. Simple love—and hope.”

Matthews understands those concepts. Born in Johannesburg, South Africa, in 1967, he came to the U.S. at the age of 18, eight years after losing his father, a non-smoker, to lung cancer. Six years later, he’d formed a band and was rocking the college crowds of Charlottesville, Va. with his jazzy infusion of sax, bass, violin, guitar and keyboard.

The Dave Matthews Band’s first album, Remember Two Things, was recorded live on Nantucket Island in 1993 and debuted on college charts as the highest independent entry. It was eventually certified gold by the RIAA. While touring, Mathews allowed concert goers to tape shows for their personal use, which bolstered a groundswell of loyal fans.

He cut his second album in 1994, one year after losing his sister to a domestic tragedy in Johannesburg. The Grammy-nominated album, Under the Table and Dreaming, is dedicated to her. More albums followed, and in 1998 the band received a second Grammy nomination, for Before These Crowded Streets. Matthews’ upcoming album is slotted for release in May.

The source of his seemingly endless inspiration, he says, is often like “dipping a bucket into a stream.” Matthews also credits his mother with teaching him to look for deeper meanings to life’s riddles.

“She was a very grounded woman with strong foundations,” he says. “Kindness was what she raised us to believe was the most important quality—respect and kindness. And my life takes me away from that on occasion, but still, I’m trying to reconcile the world with that philosophy—that respect and kindness could really save us.” Matthews has certainly done his part. He regularly stages benefit concerts and donates large sums to worthy causes. In 2003, he raised $2 million for public education and parks. Last year, he gave $1 million to charities and the city of San Francisco, to help with the homeless. And on February 5, he held a tsunami-victims benefit in Charlottesville. All proceeds will go toward rebuilding a village in Sri Lanka.

As I listen to this talented musician’s philosophical waxing and learn about his philanthropy, I can’t help but wonder if the old days—the ones filled with pot and women and Jack Daniels, that he so often sang about—might now be part of the past.

“Certainly, having kids makes me want to face my problems more than want to drown them,” he says quietly, “then face the world’s problems, rather than hide from them. And whether that’s doing anything or not, I think about things with the weight of my daughters in mind, rather than myself.”