Review: Iron & Wine @ Liverpool Philharmonic Hall

12/3/2011

It may be best to begin with what can be said for certain: Iron and Wine has herded one of the most curious collections of fans a person can imagine – a colourful pool of ex-hippies, new-age folkies, oddballs and black sheep – come one, come all – the young, the old and the in-between. It’s obvious that Sam Beam is one of those musicians that holds the magical ability to seep through the cracks of stereotype and touch just about anyone who’ll lend him their ears.

Awaiting the support act, the room was half-full with a sense of reserved anticipation…usually the way when there’s fancy decor and seats to sit on – the old sneeze and thou shall be smited atmosphere to which Daniel Martin Moore crept on to and set the show rollin’ with a humble, soulful display of talent. Holding a vocal essence of Fleet Foxes and gorgeous percussive elements, the performance was modest and grounding, bringing you right down to earth with ‘Fly Rock Blues‘ – a song about the heartless decapitation of the Appalachian mountains, shedding light on the kind of human that spends his life pissing on nature’s most epic creations . The whole performance felt natural and intimate, proving to be a perfect choice of support: the crowd was brought right down to the ground – a fine position to be swept into the sky by what was to come.

Following Daniel Martin Moore, Iron & Wine strolled onto the stage armed with an impressive array of instruments and a truck load of charm. After your usual crowd banter, Beam stated; “I’m on the tail-end of a cold, but that should just make it all the more surreal” – just for the record, and for whatever reason, he definitely wasn’t lying: the band exploded in an incredible jazz/folk fusion, helping Sam Beam to twist his usual Southern folk streams into a most alluring, provocative energy that swept through the whole room, leaving the eclectic congregation of an audience wide-eyed and slack-jawed and slumped in their seats. Whether knowingly or not, from the moment the music began rippling through nerves, and the searching tones of the saxophone crept into ears – all stitched together with Beam’s beautiful vocals, they held the mood of the room right in the palms of their hands – moulding it and morphing it with every progression, like a big, bearded, musical catalyst.

Song after song, they continued to surprise and hypnotise in a truly exceptional display of talent; if you could close your eyes for just a moment, you could’ve been anywhere; the centre of the ocean maybe – kept afloat only by the cosy blanket of sound filling every corner of the room. Playing impressively revised versions of a perfectly chosen set-list to incorporate the fresh, new vibe they’d created and offering a pleasantly varied package of songs, (between which, Beam seemed a little bewildered to the crowd’s reaction – probably not realising that he’d persuaded the majority of the room that there was no existence beyond sound) to ensure that there was something for every fan to grab hold of and bask in. Whether you’re a pioneer of the old acoustic loveliness of ‘Our Endless Numbered Days’, or if you’re digging his revamped, 70’s sounds from ‘Kissing Each Other Clean‘, there was a song to paint a smile upon everyone’s faces.

The entire show, from beginning to end, was sensational, numbing and fearlessly beautiful – Sam Beam stood like a dream-catcher at the centre of the stage, stealing and feeding moods and emotions to the mass of ears that lay open before him like some benevolent, soul-spying conductor.  To be short, it was a perfect gig. Flowing and elevating; the only plausible improvement would be that it could go on and on and on in its surreal little bubble. But of course, all good things must come to an end, and when it did, reality was standing by as ever. Chugging along as it always does.

(Alisha Riley)