Iron & Wine – Woman King

Iron and WineWoman King (Subpop)

Doesn’t Sam Beam seem like the type of guy you’d want to hug? The beard, the soft sway of “Fever Dream” and his other starlit classics, and the graceful touch of his finger-picking right hand have painted the teddy-bear imagery that comes to mind each time Iron & Wine is brought into conversation. But with each passing album and accompanying EP, Beam has added greater variation to his brand of supple folk; incorporating more instrumentation, stepping away from the brittle production that marked his debut The Creek Drank the Cradle, and varying the tempo from his sedated earlier work. On last year’s Our Endless, Numbered Days it meant opening the album alternating his typically effervescent balladry with some dirty swampland blues before gently giving way back to the stuff that brought Iron & Wine to such great feature-film-soundtrack heights and constant celebration from fans and critics.

Woman King, his latest six-song EP, saves the soft stuff for only two tracks. The rest of the EP furthers the image of the newly, dare we say reckless Beam, who lets wood blocks collide, electric guitars buzz, and sluggish energy boil below the surface of his tranquil voice, which despite the chaos, never loses its trademark intimacy. And though “Grey Stables” would have perhaps benefited from being sung in a lower register, the rest of the EP features Beam at his best vocally, actually sounding aggressive and confident for the first time on “Evening on the Ground (Lilith’s Song).”

Still, Beam is best when he’s singing ballads through his pillow; the serious lack of Beam-as-romantic takes Woman King down a small peg. But “In My Lady’s House” and “Jezebel” are striking, showing a dedication to introducing more flesh and depth into all of his work without losing the soothing tone of his catalogue to date. The ascension of Beam’s voice on the word “be” at the end of the chorus to “In My Lady’s House” is a small example of the subtle evolution his songwriting has undergone—from standard bearded-bedroom-wisp to Generation Sedated’s answer to the glut of singers that embodied the early-70’s folk boom, Sam Beam has become the most promising revivalist of that very movement.

While not a concrete step, the chromatic nature of Beam’s work indicates that Woman King is prophetic in determining what to expect from his next full-length. The redemptive dogmatism that has provided the lyrical inspiration of most of his early work has caused a virile stir in these arrangements. Which proves, after all this time, that the oppressive heat of the South breaks through the holes of Iron & Wine’s cocoon, after all.

You can download “Woman King” from Subpop.

Biirdie – Morning Kills the Dark

BiirdieMorning Kills the Dark (Pop Up)

Biirdie, by most accounts an indie pop trio with a psychedelic slant, was formed in Daniel Lanois’ Silverlake, CA home while he was out of town. On the day before Halloween, 2003, Jared Flamm was housesitting for the accomplished producer when he met Kala Savage (sister of Ben and Fred), who was working locally as an actress. Together, with Flamm’s friend Richard Gowen, they jammed in Lanois’ living room to songs like “Pale Blue Eyes” for forty minutes at a time. Included in that living room was Dylan’s Time Out of Mind piano, which turned out to be magic once again.

The magnificent debut Morning Kills the Dark is divided into two five-track parts – the “Morning Side” and the “Dark Side.” As one might expect, the “Morning Side” is exuberant and playful, holding promise and hope for the future in regards to things like friendship, love, and the places we call home. The “Dark Side,” conversely, feels somber and melancholy, and dwells on the more trying realities of much of the same subject matter.

From the rise of dawn to the fall of dusk, Morning Kills the Dark features stunning vocal harmonies, lush melodies, and bright instrumentation. Its music fills the air like a warm haze, gently easing the listener down to rest in a fog of auditory anesthesia. But this calm is mated to exhilaration, as in a dreamt view from above. The album’s most singular moments haunt like a new love: “To Know That You Need Me” – the first time that I heard it, I wrote down “Jesus this song is beautiful;” “The Other Side of Sunset” – opens with a spiritual high/low vocal harmony over patiently pacing piano chords; “I Got You (On My Mind)” – through creatively sparse guitar, synth, and drum fills, the up-and-down melody is never lonely, but never lost; “California is Waiting” – “I’m going to California from this little Florida town / From Hollywood to Silverlake, I’m Los Angeles bound / With tons of cars and five-pointed stars on every sidewalk street / What California doesn’t have is you / You and me,” Flamm sings with the weariness of two thousand miles in his voice.

Not since Pet Sounds have I heard a pop album with so much orchestrated gorgeousness, so much emotional and aural appeal, so much genuine sentiment. If that classic Beach Boys album is a symphony to God, Morning Kills the Dark is a symphony to life. And it’s no less powerful to behold.

Streaming audio available on myspace.

Tommy Stinson: Pleased to Meet Him

His face is an ever-changing map of the rock attitudes...Tommy Stinson at Southpaw

Brooklyn, February 3, 2005

For diehard Replacements fans, voyeurism can be the motive for seeing Tommy Stinson on tour for his first solo release, Village Gorilla Head. How has the elfin bass player fared? What’s up with becoming the bassist for Guns ‘n Roses? Has Tommy gone metal? Is he a lost soul, a rock and roll ghost?

Far from it—striding through Brooklyn’s Southpaw he’s wiry and alert, a puckish survivor of 2 1/2 decades in rock, sporting tight black jeans and a cheekily anachronistic punk hairdo. Almost as boyish looking as when he started at age 13, 38-year-old Stinson took the stage and threw himself into an impassioned, no-nonsense performance that converted a subdued crowd into a throng of noisy believers. If there were any doubts about his abilities (and really, doubts were why it was so interesting to be there), Tommy banished them with his authoritative guitar playing, mature songwriting and striking, husky voice. From the beautiful ballad “Light of Day” to the clever wordplay in the Dylanesque “Hey You,” it was clear that Tommy has moved out of the sidekick role forever.

Continue reading Tommy Stinson: Pleased to Meet Him

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