Iron & Wine Let The Dog Out To Play

In a recent interview, I asked Sam Beam how he was going to recreate the myriad musical layers of Iron & Wine's The Shepherd's Dog in a live setting. He had this to offer: "It's kinda big. I don't know what the hell I'm doing." Beam is either a huge liar or he's really good at faking it.

Iron & Wine appeared at ease Tuesday night, and so did the capacity crowd at the Music Hall, which was ideal. The Shepherd's Dog was released the same day and it seemed the majority in attendance hadn't yet heard the tracks that comprised the majority of the set (which was weird, considering the record leaked on the 'net nearly two months ago and indie crowds are usually tech-savvy).

Mid-tempo cuts from the new LP stood out during the 100-minute set. "Lovesong Of The Buzzard," with its muted percussion and finger-picked rambling melody, was the ideal send-off for summer days on an unseasonably humid night. "Carousel," meanwhile, couldn't have found a more inviting audience than this one. Beam's high-register whisper seamlessly evoked an uncanny feeling of simply being in the right place at the right time.

Some of the louder, more forceful numbers, especially the commanding "Pagan Angel And A Borrowed Car," were sadly mired in an unruly sound mix that saw an overwhelming low end bowl over the intricate melodic elements of the song. "Wolves (Song Of The Shepherd's Dog)" careened around the Music Hall before the band let the bastard off its leash as Beam turned his back to the crowd, marking one of the few moments of disconnect between performers and spectators. I suppose you can't win 'em all.

But with later offerings, such as the mournful "Resurrection Fern," earlier sound board missteps were easily forgiven and, more importantly, forgotten. Beam was visibly surprised by the prolonged standing ovation that concluded the main set. Before his one quick encore, he bid everyone a "good week" in a wince-worthy attempt at dealing with the adulation being unfurled at his feet.

The reverence that the crowd showed is just one of many indicators that Beam is anything but a passing fad. There were no gimmicks at play during this performance — no grills, no skinny jeans or pedantic irony either in T-shirt or facial hair form. Beam has assembled a group of musicians who will do this for their entire lives, not for the accolades but simply because this is what they do. More importantly, Iron & Wine are quickly becoming big stars, whether Beam's ready for it or not.