Jules is an encyclopedia of indie and alternative rock (I believe PJ Harvey phones Jules up if she needs to know anything about PJ Harvey), so she and I were rather excited about finally catching up with Iron and Wine live. Mrs Specs was just generally happy once she'd established the venue was seated.
Those of us with long-ish indie memories might remember I&W - known to his mum, and I daresay a few other people too, as Sam Beam - when he started out. Home recordings. Somewhere in there was a hushed breath of a voice and a guitar its owner could presumably barely lift. Something akin to the early Palace/Will Oldham records, although perhaps more peaceful, less spooked. However, over a run of increasingly polished albums and EPs, he's arrived at a full band sound at the halfway point between chillout music and, well, funk. He still sings like you could knock him down with a gentle poke in the ribs - a bit like the late Elliott Smith but after a handsome breakfast - yet the insistent groove buoys him up and gives him strength. It's as though he could always sound like this - but before he was a long distance away, and since then he has been moving closer and closer.
With this in mind, I wondered which I&W we were going to get tonight and the answer was: all of them. As we took our seats, we exclaimed to each other at the number of seats and microphones there seemed to be on stage. Embarrassingly, we kept losing count so our initial estimates of the band's size were wildly inaccurate and required a healthy margin for error. In the end, when the show began, there appeared to be about 12 of them. Twelve! Or thirteen! The last band I saw with that many people was Roxy Music, for pity's sake. (I should emphasise that was the Roxy reunion tour, by the way. *shuffles in front of stairlift*)
Amid his stage patter - which was warm, funny and above all constantly appreciative of the heroic reception he was getting - Beam casually dropped in the fact that the band had only been playing together for a couple of weeks. This seemed impossible to reconcile with the gorgeous noise they were making. Arranged a bit like the nerds versus the cool kids, a string ensemble were demurely seated on Beam's right, while a horn section (who, like horn sections often do, kept larking around like circus clowns who'd woken up in a suit holding a trumpet) occupied stage left. I thought of Lambchop, not simply because that terrific band also marry folk and soul, but also because they show how a large band need not equal a loud band; everyone played with delicacy and modesty, working around each other, knowing when to stretch out and when to shut up.
The set ranged across old and new, so some of the band left the stage for some of the quieter songs. A particular highlight was 'Monkeys Uptown', where picked acoustic guitar and cello lines played tag with each other, gently and oddly percussive underneath one of Beam's most beguiling melodies. During a completely solo section, Beam was also game enough to take requests and pluck a fan's favourite number out of his memory.
It was also great to hear 'Jezebel', a highlight of the 'Woman King' EP. If I were to send you away to buy one perhaps hidden gem by this band, it would be 'Woman King', one of the few examples - I believe - of when the short format can be perfect: a concept EP, no less, about powerful females - totally hypnotic songs in themselves, but also a fascinating 'transition' record between the style he started with and the one he has now.
In fact, here is the title track of that EP and you are VERY welcome.
While I'm here, I want to draw your attention once again to my pal Jules, who shares her indie know-how not just with me, but also the Entire Nation, through her Indie Wonderland radio show. You can listen on ARfm between 7 and 9pm on Thursdays, or play catch-up whenever you like by listening to the podcast of the show on Mixcloud. The most recent edition (27 June 2013) is here, but every single show is archived as a nourishing source of maximum indie goodness. I can't recommend it highly enough.
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