Iron and Wine at the WorkPlay Soundstage

I sent my little sister a text message about two songs into last night’s Iron and Wine concert. Cheryl and I have been discussing that show for months—ever since WorkPlay announced it this summer. She saw Iron and Wine in Jacksonville, Fla., this spring and said it was one of the most amazing concerts she’s attended. I must see them as soon as possible, she said.

She was probably disappointed, then, when she read my text. “Oh no! Sam Beam has a cold and YOU CAN TELL”

It’s true. As Beam took the stage (first alone, then joined by his sister on background vocals), his voice was very obviously affected by the cold he apologized for. I texted my sister, then turned to my friends and announced, “It’s going to be a long night.” Or a short one; what if he weren’t able to make it through a full set?

I needn’t have worried. Although Beam’s voice was strained in those first few numbers, the music from his acoustic guitar was still gorgeous. And I can’t say whether his voice warmed up as he was joined by a full band or if the beauty of the music compensated for what duress he felt. All I know is, I was completely entranced.

Iron and Wine plays orchestral indie folk (to borrow a term from a friend), the kind of music that can completely captivate you while you’re sitting at your work computer, attempting to write a music review. (In fact, that’s about how I described the latest CD, The Shepherd’s Dog, when I reviewed it last year.) I could listen for hours, trying to pick out each instrument’s role and admiring the way each element comes together.

And the music is no less hypnotic when you’re in a room packed with a crowd of concert goers. In fact, it’s even more so.

I am normally a very reserved person. I don’t clap along with songs when instructed to, and I’m uncomfortable singing along when musicians try to engage the audience. (OK, I’m normally a stick in the mud. Sorry.) I dance to my favorite music, but usually it’s only in the privacy of my apartment with no one around but my cat. But last night, I could not keep from moving and swaying with the music, even in the midst of a rather reserved, respectful crowd.

Probably not 10 minutes after I announced that it was going to be a long night, I turned back to a friend and restated my assessment. “This is going to be one of my top five concerts this year,” I said. “Top three, easily.” She shushed me and told me to listen to the music. I turned back toward the stage and lost myself in the magic all over again.