Review Summary: All in good time, and that’s what it was
There may never be a real consensus on what the best Iron & Wine album is, but 99% of respondents in my (totally legit) poll would probably cite one of the first three, a triumvirate all released plus or minus twenty years ago. Indeed, it’s been nearly seven years since the project’s last full-length (
Beast Epic), even if that lengthy interim has been punctuated by a smattering of live albums and EPs. All this strongly suggests that, past grandeur aside (AKA some of the most monumental achievements in indie folk), Iron & Wine has reached the “resting on laurels” career stage.
This supposition is further supported by the fact that 2017’s
Beast Epic was a pretty damn “safe” release. Assessed with fresh ears, it’s clear that the record isn’t nearly as stripped-down in aesthetic as Sam Beam’s earliest material, but it’s equally evident that it represents a gentle “retreat” back towards those rootsy confines. The results are both lovely and wholly unambitious - not only failing to reach the godly heights which Iron & Wine once scaled, but instead content to simply dilly dally in the lowlands. As a result, my expectation was that
Light Verse would hew to a similar form - very good fan service, without adding much new to the conversation.
Beam’s latest does excel in similar fashion to its humble predecessor - this is a beautiful album, imbued with a sedate feel, and representing a kind of, well, “old man music” in its most compelling form (I guess that last item was basically always true of Iron & Wine’s oeuvre, even in the halcyon days). However, it does manage to be more ambitious in intent as well.
Light Verse might lean into its reflective vibes, but also manages to marry, perhaps better than any other release in the catalog, the uncomplicated dude-with-guitar sound of the
Our Endless Numbered Days era with the more sonically adventurous backdrops of the
Kiss Each Other Clean period.
The resulting forty-three minutes or so have no shortage of gorgeous moments. The lushness of “You Never Know” and the upbeat melodicism of “Sweet Talk” reflect the album’s more vibrant side, while the desolate emotion of “Taken By Surprise” and the sparse but dreamy “Yellow Jacket” lean upon the LP’s foundation of gently mellow folk. As usual, there’s plenty of melancholy to mine, but an unabashed helping of playfulness as well - perhaps nowhere more obvious that in the delightful “Cutting It Close”, as Beam throws out gems like “
kissing this, kissing that, I’m kissing anybody kissing me back” or “
life is long, could be a little longer, don’t get me wrong”. The full package feels like a pleasant moment of reminiscence, an aging man taking stock of what’s important in life, or what’s been done and what’s left to do. It’s the kind of album the vast majority of Beam’s indie folk peers would be happy to have under their belt.
With all that praise allotted,
Light Verse does fall short in one vital area. For yours truly, Iron & Wine’s back catalog is absolutely littered with songs which are not only classics, but masterpieces which truly touch the soul - a non-exhaustive list includes “Muddy Hymnal”, “Sodom, South Georgia”, “The Trapeze Singer”, “Resurrection Fern”, “Walking Far From Home”, and “Autumn Town Leaves”. Such a tier of absolute brilliance is a tough bar to clear, sure, but with about a dozen listens down, none of
Light Verse’s ten tracks comes anywhere near. So, in the end, this is a very good, borderline excellent, album, weaving together a delicate atmosphere with well-crafted arrangements and (unsurprisingly) beautiful lyricism, but strokes of genius are few and far between. Beam’s earlier triumphs have left me quite spoiled. Nonetheless, if you enjoy indie folk,
Light Verse is worth your time as a quality late-career effort. It’ll feature heavily on my humid summer evening rotation in the coming months.
