I love Iron and Wine…
…but Sam Beam really let me down last night.
He performed for the first time in Albuqueruqe and while I realize he is growing as a musician, and while I am aware that he has been playing with a band for awhile now, I did not pay $25 to listen to adult contemporary music.
The intimacy of Sam Beam-the character he crafted in Our Endless Numbered Days-was lost in the consistent five minute jam sessions. These sessions were entirely devoid of charisma-none of Beam’s personality, nor that of his bandmates came through.
I am not one of those assholes who thinks a musician should be all about pleasing fans; nor do I want Beam to reamin stagnant. My criticism is that he seemed largely insensitive to the fact that we here in Albuquerque never got a chance to be in a room with the intimate, whispery, dark-bucolic Beam of years past.
As a musician myself, I wonder why Beam didn’t pepper his set with straght acoustic numbers. After the first three songs, I was longing to have some glipse of Beam the songwriter and the lyrics of his new album were inaudible in the El Rey theater. I can imagine changing direction as a musician. But in doing so, can’t you make a few more overt gestures to your fans?
To Beam’s credit, the new songs on the album The Shepherd’s Dog aren’t bad. But live, with his lyrics and personality lost in hazy drone of nameless musicians, I needeed something to latch onto. I enjoyed the remade Upwards Over the Mountain, though my friend Ka found the feel to be all too off.
Cinders and Smoke? Thanks for that.
Sodom, South Georgia? This was brilliant; my favorite song and my favorite part of the show: “white tongue’s hang out/God is good.”
And the encore, Naked as We Came, was wonderful-yet Beam hedged before playing. He claimed he didn’t have his voice that night-I couldn’t tell because I had barely heard it. Thank you for performing that intimate Beam in the last song and please remember that we want to hear you here in Albuquerque; but we want the Sam Beam that isn’t afraid of embarassing himself with intimate whispers in the ears of strangers.
Carson


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