Sam Beam, the bearded singer−songwriter better known as Iron and Wine, has gone all grown−up and funky in his latest album "Kiss Each Other Clean." Those familiar with his previous albums know Beam for his hushed voice, folk sound and clean melodies. This stylistic formula has yielded successful and cohesive work extolled by both critics and average listeners.
"Kiss Each Other Clean" is a risky departure in sound for Beam, exemplified by intervals of conspicuous saxophone, more confident vocals and what sounds suspiciously like a thumb piano sprinkled throughout the songs. Iron and Wine seems to have woven a thread of psychedelic '70s funk and African instrumentation through the foundation of the soft soundscapes that typify his work.
This would not be the first time that Beam has inserted seemingly incongruous elements from unrelated genres into his songs. Take, for example, the track "He Lays in the Reins" from his 2005 collaboration with Calexico, "In the Reins." The lyrical imagery, strumming guitar and bright, punctuating piano notes come together in a way that in itself is stunning. Salvador Duran's operatic interlude in Spanish that comes seemingly out of nowhere in the middle of the song takes it to another level with the powerful, projecting voice of the Mexican singer driving upward against the flowing backdrop of the guitar.
The extent to which the more pop−forward funkiness of "Kiss Each Other Clean" succeeds is variable. The synth and percussion inflected track "Monkeys Uptown" is vaguely reminiscent of Peter Gabriel's solo work, without the kind of melodic appeal that brings the audience back for a second listen.
"Rabbit Will Run" has a similar African−inspired feel, prominently featuring the tinny thumb piano and a breathy, flute−type instrument whose sound seems funneled straight from the intro of the Head Hunters' version of "Watermelon Man". What makes "Rabbit Will Run" a better listen is the incredible texture of sounds that Beam creates, sometimes layering, sometimes dropping almost all instrumentation.
The most accessible songs are the ones that feel most like the Iron and Wine of old, with more subtle manifestations of Beam's experimental elements. "Half Moon" has that quietly wailing guitar and muted falsetto cadence that made Iron and Wine such a striking addition to the music scene in his first album, "The Creek Drank the Cradle" (2002). This track has that same bare, stripped−down feeling, which makes room for the tambourine and doo−wop of some female background vocals to really shine through and keep the sound fresh.
"Glad Man Singing" is an immediately likable song. It is beautifully balanced with a melody that lends itself well to participatory humming along. Beam's stellar songwriting skills, as usual, produced lyrics that paint memorable pictures as the chorus twists and morphs over the course of the track:
"I've become a glad man singing a song/ About the bushes by the gas pump gone to flower/ And a constant star collides/ About a sad man singing they forgotten how/ And the baby quit sucking when the milk went sour/ And the mouth of the river is wide."
Admittedly, the meaning behind the words is difficult to decipher, but with the hypnotic pull of the building beat and the angelic melodic refrain, the meaning ceases to matter because the music is just so darn catchy.
Aficionados of Iron and Wine's work may find themselves perplexed by the more distracting elements of Beam's new sound, but when they are folded tastefully into the folk base, the result is winning.
"Kiss Each Other Clean" demands multiple listens for the vision to sink in, but fortunately, the sound doesn't go stale.
