It's certainly no secret that Iron & Wine shows aren't exactly the most raucous of affairs. For the most part, when the beautifully bearded Samuel Beam casually saunters onstage, flanked by his bevy of very-blooded-talented musical maestros, and starts weaving his melancholic tales of love and loss, the standard response is one of mesmerisation; the performance is so striking that you remain rooted firmly to the spot, unable to avert your eyes from the stage, content to allow the beauty to swallow you whole. Where other artists command the body, making drunken imbeciles throw themselves into one another with reckless abandon, Iron & Wine penetrates the soul, tugging at the heartstrings and piercing the gut, crafting the kind of emotional connection that most struggling wannabes in this business we call 'the arts' can only have wet dreams about. Indeed, so powerful is tonight's foray into the depths of regret-tinged Americana that Newcastle is practically stunned into silence; a pin dropping in the general vicinity of The Sage's glorious Hall 1 would probably send reverberations as far as the nearby Millennium Bridge. Samuel is quite taken with this attentiveness, remarking that we're all 'so well behaved', which would be reason to 'bring [his] kids here', but really, in our hearts, we're as battered and bruised as the most vociferous of headbangers.
It certainly helps that Sam has brought good friend and fellow musical entrepreneur Daniel Martin Moore along for the ride. His careful blend of sun-drenched folk and wayward country strikes an immediate chord with those who've managed to position bums on seats early enough, aided rather admirably by both the venue's inherent brilliance - it may be an irritating muso cliche, but the acoustics really ARE amazing - and the production crew's sound grasp of atmospherics. It's the subtle touches that prove the most evocative: just check the quiet lighting oscillations during the touching 'In the Cool of the Day', shrouding Daniel in darkness when his vocals pause momentarily, and carefully illuminating the inexorably talented pianist instead, drawing our attention to the poetry of the musicianship. Things are a little more strained when Daniel heavies his hand, teaching us all about the perils of mountain top removal - the boulders that shoot through the air are 'the size of Wales', lazily - as the lesson in humanitarian environmentalism jars with the 'softly, softly' approach of the rest of his performance (perhaps he would've been better letting the track speak for itself?), but on the whole, this is an admirable introduction and a most appropriate preface to the magic that follows.
Of course, Moore is no competition for the 105 career-spanning minutes that Iron & Wine bestow upon their adoring followers; all thoughts of wiry, besuited Kentucky boys are obliterated within the first few seconds of a progressively colossal 'Rabbit Will Run', Samuel taking each and every one of our hands and leading us on a bewitching journey through the spit-and-sawdust nooks and crannies of southernmost America, across the empty plains on a painfully gentle 'Carousel', over the rivers and seas through the cascading ebbs and flows of 'Cinder and Smoke' and 'Tree By The River' and into the blinding lights and cadaverous hustle and bustle of the big city on the astutely observational 'Walking Far From Home', the opening track from tremendous new record 'Kiss Each Other Clean' and quite probably the highlight of the show. It's quite remarkable how immediately evocative a great many of these tracks are; a few carefully chosen words are all Samuel needs to immerse the listener in his world, to make each and every one of us feel like the songs were written for us and us alone. That several hundred hard-working punters from Northern England can share in this most personal and unique of experiences is further testament to the sheer genius of the performance.
The show isn't perfect; cracks do show on occasion, as a few minor technical hitches lead Sam to ask whether we're 'cool with [them] fucking up the songs [we] love' and the set does meander a little at the midpoint, transgressing for a little too long down a slightly proggier path, but for the most part, this is a beguiling ride, near flawless in both conception and execution. Iron & Wine's unenviable grasp of music's most powerful of abilities - to move you - makes every last one of the captivated faithful want to be up on that stage, sharing their own stories with an attentive audience, making equally as unfathomable, yet astonishing, sounds with the most straightforward, yet comprehensive, arsenal of instruments. They may not provoke the most feverish of reactions, but Iron & Wine create the most enduring of experiences, assuring you of a night you'll never forget. Music doesn't get much more wonderful than this.
No comments:
Post a Comment