Iron & Wine Live at NYC's Bowery Ballroom

Iron &Wine
Bowery Ballroom
New York City

You've heard of the "Wall of Sound." How about the "Screen Door of Sound"? Sam Beam, Iron & Wine's 30-year-old frontbeard, makes music to mope to--tranquil, rustic near-ballads with lyrics that contemplate spreading the ashes of your spouse around the yard. Now imagine a room full of people honoring these gossamer songs, in thrall to the chilly breezes that waft through them; it's not exactly Woodstock '99. The closest analogy would be a Quaker meeting, where the faithful worship in silence until the spirit moves someone to stand and share. But since Beam's subject matter--fear of death, existential loneliness, the desire to look like a lumberjack--seems to demand hushed contemplation, the faithful showed their devotion by shooting dirty looks at anyone who dared make conversation.

Beam and his four-person band played the songs the way they sound on record--acoustic guitar, light drumming, almost imperceptible backing vocals from Beam's little sister Sarah; there were few flourishes, distractions, or asides (sample stage patter: "It sure is quiet out there"). The bulk of the set drew from Our Endless Numbered Days, the band's second full-length. The obliquely antiwar "On Your Wings" approached rockin', and "Naked as We Came"--the one about spreading ashes--was almost perky, as Sam's velvety melancholy cradled Sarah's coo. It was only when Beam strummed by himself--as he did on the forlorn "Call Your Boys"--that the spell broke. After all, it only takes a few holes to ruin a screen door.