Iron & Wine – Paramount Theatre, Oakland, CA, 30/11/2007

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It was an all-together weird and wonderful experience walking into the historic Paramount Theatre (completed in 1931) last Friday night. I gawked at the exquisitely ornate wood reliefs covering every square inch of the walls. It was like the audience was gathered inside of a wood music box gazing out through its amber-hued faux skylight; a knod towards the old U.S. movie palace’s penchant for art deco collaboration. Both Iron & Wine and Califone’s performances would also hold up the same concentration on creative alliance that the lovely Paramount Theatre illustrated.

The artist that I first saw walking around in flip-flops before a concert at San Francisco’s small bar club Slim’s in the winter of 2005 is no longer backed only by one or two people (most notably his sister, Sarah). The latest incarnation of his seven-piece band proves to be the final death knell for Beam’s four-track days. His voice may still be “hushed” but journalists everywhere will have to think of new adjectives to describe Iron & Wine’s new aesthetic. “Percussive” will start you off in the right direction.

Before Beam could jam his way into our hearts Califone took the stage with a set mainly focused on material from their 2006’s Roots & Crowns. Before diving into the loping milieu of “The Eye You Lost in the Crusades” lead singer and guitarist, Tim Rutili and Jim Brecker (banjo, violin) the two jokingly referred to the next song as “their number one single off their new album that is all over the radio.”

“I’m sure you guys don’t listen to the radio,” Rutili said. Califone’s music is a unique blend of experimental electronic pop (ala Psychic TV) and blues-rock (a hold-over from frontman Rutili’s first band, Red Red Meat.) Aside from those, Califone is primarily a result of the band’s meticulous transmogrification of the American folk canon.

Califone quietly slinked through almost an hour of post-rock that rooted itself deep into the folk psyche, their movement felt languid and relaxed. You could replace the Paramount’s expansive stage with a wrap-around porch and it would still be quite fitting during the minimal spookiness of “Spiders House.” As always, Rutili’s lyrics contained all the directness of a poem: “Washed in the crime / carry the choir / age and peel / after the quiet bleeds / peel and age familiar peace in the pain.”

Brassy toots wilt around a propulsive guitar click. Also during the set the band managed to sneak in some songs from their back catalog. The lovely romance-tinged folk number “Michigan Girls” and the creaking “Fisherman’s Wife” came as welcome additions. “Pink & Sour” served as a thrilling capstone with its diggerdoo-like guitars and tribal percussion.

Iron & Wine calmly took the stage to raucous applause. As stated earlier the band has expanded to include two percussionists. Both Califone and Iron & Wine have flourished in that area, due in large part to their Brian Deck’s production on their respective albums. Beam has said in several interviews that he loves the polyrhythmic nature of West African music and on his band’s first song of the evening (“Lovesong of the Buzzard”) that affinity showed in spades. Over happy organ playing, both Beam and his sister sang, “No one is the savior they would like to be / the lovesong of the buzzard in the dogwood tree.”

Every aspect of Beam’s Southern gothic affectations shined through the songs that evening. His biting agnostic wit showed up in the lyrics for the Cain and Abel retelling on “Innocent Bones” when it comes to religion, “there ain’t a penthouse Christian wants the pain of the scab / but they all want the scar…there’s a big pile of innocent bones still holding up the garden wall.”

Beam continued “burning that book they come back to” on “House by the Sea” as well. Animal imagery is all over the new album (the title for one thing is a no-brainer). Beam’s pastoral imagery flowed on his musical love letter to “Sodom, South Georgia.” With the addition of piano and accordion, the song about a dying man felt fitfully poignant. “Peace Beneath the City” also aided from some piano flourishes. It was understandable that the Bhangra-folk tune “White Tooth Man” was without some key Indian instruments (namely a sitar) but it flowed nicely nonetheless.

A heavy emphasis on The Shepherd’s Dog material proved to be a brilliant stroke as well. Many times the band jammed straight into the next song on a series of lovely medleys. The ethereal “Carousel” (sans-water filled vocals this time) melted into “Cinder and Smoke” with only the drums connecting them.

“House by the Sea” and the piano driven “Devil Never Sleeps” pulled the same percussive breakdown. It didn’t always work though. Segueing between “Woman King” and “Wolves (Song of the Shepherd’s Dog)” proved to be difficult, and sort of fell apart at the end.

You can’t blame the band too much because Beam noted that the whole band caught the flu. Sarah sat on a chair through the whole concert. Beam quipped, “she’s sickly good” as they started into the last few songs.

All in all this was a lovely concert that ended well with soaring harmonies from “Flightless Bird, American Mouth” and the lone encore piece “The Trapeze Swinger.” The almost 10 minute song epic was greeted with mostly applause from the seated crowd, with one dissenting, “why?” I was asking another question at the end of the concert: “more?”

Photos courtesy of Leonardo Vazquez

mp3:> Iron & Wine: Southern Anthem