Record Review: Iron and Wine - "The Shepherd's Dog"

Rating - 8.2 / 10.0

Sam Beam has never been renowned for his versatility. We could always count on him for a breathy, folksy finger-picking number or two, in the vein of "The [World Fucking Famous] Trapeze Swinger." And as impressed as I have been by his other records, I have to admit the prospect of listening to yet another 49 minutes and 45 seconds of that was quite a daunting one. So I was reticent in picking up "The Shepherd's Dog." I don't think I was alone in this sentiment, and I don't think I'm alone in saying that I was shocked by what I found.

As soon as I pressed play, "Pagan Angel and a Borrowed Car" burst forth from the speakers. I had been expecting a barely audible guitar line, so I had the volume cranked, and my ears close to the speakers. What came my way, was a jangly, rockabilly beat that, in all honesty, surprised the hell out of me. And this was no one time trick. Beam forays fearlessly on this record into territory that his band has never explored before; more than half the tracks on this record sound nothing like the Iron and Wine that we all know, but Beam's voice is there, quietly confident as ever, only this time it is embedded in a plush mix, rife with "ooh"s, "aah"s, persistent, honky-tonk piano, and beating drums. The sitar/electric guitar introduction of "White Tooth Man" continues on this theme.

Lyrically, Beam is charting new territory here too. Where before, his lyrics could not escape their imminently pastoral quality, "The Shepherd's Dog" talks of "Plain-clothes cop[s] and beauty queen[s]". Darker themes pervade the whole album, and Beam's lyrics address more current concerns than ever before. Beam paints a bleak picture of our current condition, of how alarming it is to him that we are faced with deadly prospect of endless war, but how it is even more terrifying that nobody really seems to care: "Dreaming again of a city full of fathers in their army clothes / ... / All of us lost at the crosswalk waiting for the other to go / Didn't find a friend, but boy, I really bought a lot / Someone bet a dollar that my daddy wasn't coming home / Everybody bitching, 'there's nothing on the radio.'"

Sure, Beam stays true to his formula on a few (five of twelve) tracks on this record, the most obvious examples being "House by the Sea," "Innocent Bones," "Resurrection Fern," and "Peace Beneath the City." These songs feature gentle vocal lines floating over undulating guitar lines. But the energy from the other seven tracks carries over into these songs, injecting them with an urgency that Beam's other records never offered. Moreover, these tracks stand out more than they would have on a previous Iron and Wine record because of the stark contrast between them and the more upbeat tracks on the album. These slower numbers have more purpose here, and it makes for a more well-rounded, generally convincing work.

So there's a lot to absorb here. This is a record for believers and non-believers alike. If nothing else, this album discredits the criticism Beam has oft had levelled against him: that of being a caricature of the monotonous folk singer/songwriter. He has shown that he not only has the moxie to experiment, but also the chops to pull it off.


-PTC