By: Dan MacIntosh |
Thursday December 13, 2007 |
Genrerock PublisherSup Pop External Links |
0Iron & Wine, the name gives Samuel Beam gives himself, is a
fascinating folk experiment. The Shepherd's Dog is packed with
a variety of sounds, all of which feature Beam's hushed singing
beneath them. And when you listen closely to his words, you hear a lot
of religious lyrics as well as a few potty words in between. I'm not
sure what he's trying to tell us with these songs. But I don't really
care because getting lost with Beam is a beautifully confusing
adventure.
This CD opens with "Pagan Angel and a Borrowed Car", where Beam leads
the way with a rumbling acoustic beat – spiced with lonely violin,
plunking piano, and backwards guitar. You get the immediate impression
this borrowed car is a clunker – at least from the sound of the music.
The disc closes with "Flightless Bird, American Mouth", which comes
off like a big old '50s ballad. In between, Beam sings like a crazy,
disgraced preacher, with sermons like "The Devil Never Sleeps",
"Resurrection Fern", and "Peace Beneath the City". But don't let words
like "peace" fool you because Beam songs are like Flannery O'Connor
short stories: there's seemingly something evil lurking around every
corner. Nevertheless, the sweet, Dylan-y organ that creeps through the
mix now and again is a comforting sound.
Iron & Wine is like meeting a friend you immediately like. But for the
life of you, you don't know why. This friend speaks in cryptic
riddles, whispers when you wish he'd raise his voice, and just might
be a smiling serial killer. But to paraphrase Morrissey, to die by his
side is such a wonderful way to die.