Author's Note: OK, so I know it's taking me a week and a half to do this "EP Week" thing, but bear with me. These shorter reviews have still taken longer than I thought. But I promise this is the last one before I return to the regularly scheduled album reviews.
Iron & Wine quietly slipped onto my radar screen last year, as a hint of a suggestion about an artist whose music I might find useful for kicking back on a lazy passing afternoon. I've had unusually good luck with hushed folk albums in the past few years, and Our Endless Numbered Days was no exception. Sam Beam had a way with the acoustic guitar, plucking and caressing it to get just the right textures out of it where some folks artist would simply stop at getting the right notes. His whisper of a voice, alternately haunting and reassuring the listener, told stories that seemed to exist less to make a point than they did to simply convey a mood, even if they revolved around tangible characters. While it took some time to differentiate each of the 12 homespun tales on Our Endless Numbered Days and appreciate each as its own unique gem, the time it took to do so was highly rewarding.
But Sam Beam has apparently gotten restless with such an easygoing formula. His latest EP, Woman King, brings in a full band on a few tracks, and experiments with I&W's core sound in a way that surprisingly actually works. By "experiments", I don't mean "adds some drum loops and prays pop radio will pick it up". Sure, there's noticeable percussion here and there, which is kind of new for Sam, but here it's all about mood and texture. The acoustic guitar remains the prominent voice, but now piano plays a strong supporting role, and other elements like the violin are worked in, to captivating effect. There are a few moments where Sam might even approach the more "alternative" attitude of Sub Pop label mates who have gone before (I still think the label is an amusing source for his music to be coming from) on a few tracks, but then, if you've paid attention, he wasn't always writing about conventional things anyway.
Ah, yes, the songwriting. That might be the crowning achievement of Woman King, despite the lovely instrumentation that attempts to distract us. For what seems like the first time, Iron & Wine offers us a message instead of just a mood. Or perhaps it's just a hint of a message, or maybe it's a myriad of messages. But for sure, he's got something to say here, specifically about the fairer sex. Recording a collection of songs about the ladies is a scary prospect - you're either going to fall into the trap of over-generalizing and insulting them, or turning your whole project into a mushy and repetitive set of romantic ballads. Sam gets a lot of credit for avoiding this (though he evokes a romantic and strangely sexy mood in a few places) and making each song a bit of a character study instead.
I heard it said once that John Mayer's function in life seemed to be to put women on a pedestal and then paint their toenails. In comparison to that, I'd say that Sam Beam does his share of putting certain women on a pedestal, but then he stands back and critiques their poise on that pedestal, and questions whether he should have put them there in the first place. Answers to his questions don't necessarily come easy, and at one point he comes dangerously close to dashing the trust to pieces that he's managed to build with these ladies. Think of it less as a feminist manifesto (nothing wrong with feminism; I'm just saying that's not quite accurate here), and more as a few snapshots of one guy's imperfect and incomplete view of the opposite sex.
Woman King
The thing that will surprise listeners right away is how percussion-driven this song is. The constant "clack-clack-clack" of sticks banging against each other is what drives this song, sounding like something out of a martial arts movie. This is married to a rather percussive guitar-playing style, with a little bit of a slide guitar accompanying it, making it seem a lot like a full band upgrade of a song like "On Your Wings". Sam's sister Sarah backs him up on the vocals here (as she does on most tracks; her presence is understated but lovely). Over the militant rhythm, Sam uses poetic, almost apocalyptic imagery to describe the advent of a female conqueror, one who will come in "a hundred years, hundred more" - he doesn't know when, but it seems inevitable. And yet, the language he uses to describe her isn't necessarily one of victory - despite being on top of the world, she's described as a weary and sad individual. Is he trying to say that women weren't cut out to lead? Or is this a subtle dig at the example she's been given of male leadership all these years, of the strongest being the best and the weak falling under the power of the sword? Is it a good thing for her to aspire to the power-hungry ways of men? The very phrase "a woman king" is uncomfortable for us, because we'd expect to hear "queen", and I think that's intentional here - she feels awkward trying to fill this role because it isn't how anyone was meant to be doing it. At least, that's my interpretation. If the song's too puzzling for you to be bothered with interpretation, just close your eyes and imagine one of Zhang Ziyi's kick-butt scenes from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Yeah, that'll do the trick.
Jezebel
Is that a dulcimer I hear amidst the lovely picking of acoustic and electric guitar? Not sure, but it gives this song a bit of a medieval, music-box sort of feeling. Here, Sam is softly calling out to a lovely woman, named after the Biblical queen that we conventionally understand to be a very evil woman. Sam apparently doesn't see her that way, but this may just be a different woman he's talking about who earned herself a bad reputation. His tone is very apologetic here, explaining that "she was born to be the woman we could blame", but admitting that he'd have just as much capacity to do wrong if put in her position. This song goes beyond lover and well into the area of woman-worship here, which can be a tad uncomfortable if not taken metaphorically, but at the same time it adds a nice double meaning to the words "wholly Jezebel". It's a beautiful five minutes of music, with the banjo and piano trickling into the steady waterfall at different intervals, the music gently sketching the shape of this misunderstood woman, all decked out in purple and gold.
Grey Stables
The soft whisper of an electric guitar adds texture to this loping song, which seems to marry the cowboy attitude of a song like "Free Until They Cut Me Down" with the minstrel-like tone of Sam and Sarah's sweet falsettos. Lord, what a lovely melody! This one's just dripping with sweetness, lavishing compliments on a servant woman who apparently works in the stables. As Sam sings to her, it's easy to imagine that he's the man of the house, her master, but that they're some sort of an illicit affair between them going on behind the scenes. It's made all the more sensual by the subtle, but steamy, violin that comes wafting in during the middle of the song. It's probably the most beautiful song about an affair since "Say Goodbye" by the Dave Matthews Band - morally troubling, but extremely seductive.
Freedom Hangs Like Heaven
A faster-paced picking pattern, with percussion provided by an egg-shaker, accompanies this quickly told story of a pregnant lady, conspicuously named Mary, who appears to have a difficult decision to make regarding her baby. I have a tough time making sense of this one just because the lyrics fly by rather quickly and I can't find a transcription anywhere. It isn't long before drums, banjo, and a single, repeating note from the piano come along to give the song a strangely upbeat feel. It sounds like the lady has abandonment issues - perhaps men keep leaving her and she can't find a father for her child, and is questioning whether to even keep him? One thing's for sure, the backwoods-meets-saloon feel of the song seems a bit strange as the backdrop to such a difficult tale, but then, I can't tell how the story ends without listening much more carefully, so I'll let you draw your own conclusions on this one.
In My Lady's House
The simplest song on the record is picked out at a leisurely pace, resembling one of the less immediately catchy tunes on Our Endless Numbered Days, but still augmented by piano. I think I hear an organ in the background there, too. The air of simplicity and constancy seems to hint that this song is about stability - perhaps a married couple finally learning to appreciate each other after years of co-existing? But if that's true, why would he call it his lady's house instead of his own house? The song doesn't really run long enough to answer that question, but whatever the context, it's a relatively simple love song compared to the other songs, which have been wholly enigmatic thus far.
Evening on the Ground (Lilith's Song)
Sam chooses to end this mini-album on a stirring note, whipping acoustic guitar and light drums into a menacing whirlwind of temptation, over which he applies his falsetto once again, this time to much more creepy effect. One could construe this as the ugly duckling of the album - it's not inherently abrasive, but there's a foreboding tone to the chords used, and the interlude of violin and downright dirty electric guitar (rock instrumentation on an Iron & Wine record... what the... ?) is especially menacing. Despite the usual smoothness of Sam's voice, his words are anything but comforting here, threatening to steal, destroy, and rape some unknown victim. In a much-talked about line, Sam drops his first F-bomb since the one stray usage found on his 2002 album The Creek Drank the Cradle, saying "We were born to f*ck each other, one way or another." It really jumps out - even the way he enunciates the word seems intended to get the full force out of the "f" and "k". It is disturbing? Yeah. But let's not make assumptions about the point of view here. OK, so both the usage of that word and the title of the song are likely to irritate anyone with Christian beliefs, but let's look closer. It's subtitled "Lilith's Song", and as pagan legend has it, Lilith was the first wife of the Biblical Adam. As I understand it, she's kind of viewed as a goddess or a demoness, depending on the interpretation of those who believe in her existence, and she stands in stark contrast to Eve, the wife of Adam, so it's reasonable to believe that this person represents illicit intentions to Sam. Are those his intentions towards a woman who has his hormones all out of whack, or is this his attempt to put the demoness's intentions into words? It's scary either way, but it could be viewed as a cautionary tale about succumbing to temptation. Either way, the music is awesome, and I'm willing to suspend my initial feeling of being really put off by this song in order to examine it more closely.
Close examination seems to be the key to fully appreciating Iron & Wine's songs, and admittedly that's a little harder to do now that he's upped the ante on the music. But this is the type of songwriting that reveals its different facets with closer listening, and I think it's brilliant to mix that with music that is sublimely beautiful on the surface, making the first listen as good as the hundredth, but for completely different reasons. Sam Beam is clearly a talent to watch, and I can only wonder how the incorporation of a full band will affect his future output. If his next full-length album is as consistent as Woman King, then we might just have an Album of the Year contender on our hands.
OVERALL WORTH:
Woman King $2
Jezebel $1.50
Grey Stables $1.50
Freedom Hangs Like Heaven $1.50
In My Lady's House $1
Evening on the Ground (Lilith's Song) $1.50
TOTAL: $9
Recommended:
