September 28, 2007
Iron & Wine
Tower Theatre

What a lovely shocker it was. A walk-up ticket purchase at the Tower Theatre, and Jesse and I left wondering to what great heights we’d be relegated. But the glum ticketmarm led us right up the middle aisle of the main floor, pointing out the two end seats about 15 rows from the stage. And then, the opening twinkle of Sam Beam’s exquisite acoustic guitar twisted our mouths into schoolboy grins that wouldn’t give until we were well onto I-95.

It was like we had caught Santa Claus & Co. at work. Iron & Wine, both with the release of the fabulous The Shepherd’s Dog and their live performance on Friday, refined the rough whittling of The Creek Drank the Cradle, adding intricate painted colors and delicate, shiny baubles that embellished Beam’s gorgeous poems while maintaining their rural craftsmanship. Also, enter your own flowing beard/Father Christmas joke here.

I find that the best musical performances will melt away any need to focus on determining which song is from what collection and simply lull you into the overall show. Assisting the band in this task were the incredibly warm tones the Tower Theatre acoustics and sound engineer were bathing us in. The bottom end was especially full and inviting, padding the landing of the ever-present piano and pedal steel that added just the right compliment to Beam’s steady plucking. The addition of Benny Massarella’s earthy, often rollicking percussion to Chad Taylor’s drumming was also an integral cog.

Familiar songs and melodies did present themselves, however, and a majority of the material seemed to come from the new album, with just enough past favorites to send audience members swooning. But this performance was far from the Hey-these-are-the-new-songs-let’s-go-get-a-beer variety.

The one word that successfully captures Iron & Wine’s Tower performance is intimate. With closed eyes, one may have easily imagined lying in bed, watching their lover’s body undulate with gentle sleeping breaths, or perhaps the upturned belly of a singing sparrow. For a full octet to evoke such imagery is quite a feat, but Beam’s falsetto whispering vocals make it impossible for any individual musician to overpower the mood. Along with violinist/vocalist Patty McKinney, Beam’s words flew like birds, upwards over the mountain.

And while the Tower was far from sold out, the audience repaid Iron & Wine in kind with warm praises, thanks, and calls of “We love you Sam!” Beam, as soft-spoken as his falsetto implies, would amusedly offer back an “I love you too, man.” Had I not been enjoying all of it so much, I would complain about the “damn dirty hippy” atmosphere taking over. Also, enter your own flowing beard/Hippy Jesus joke here.

The myriad musicians, theatre setting and song rearrangements, whether it be the full band rendition of “Upward Over the Mountain” or the stripped-bare “A History of Lovers” encore, reminded me of a subdued, rootsier incarnation of Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Revue. And at this pace of growth and songwriting prowess, I feel like we’ll all be talking about Mr. Beam thirty years on, weaving tales of ghostly white face paint evoking the stuff of backwoods legend with the greatest of ease. And also, check out that flowing fucking beard.