Iron & Wine: Ghost On Ghost

Sam Beam has taken an unlikely journey from the muddy ruts of obscurity to the sun-kissed uplands of the mainstream. His arrival as a popular entertainer was probably crystalised as far back as 2008 when ‘Flightless Bird, American Mouth’ soundtracked the prom scene in the original Twilight movie.

Watching R-Patz and Kristen Stewart trade scowls as Beam crooned in the background wasn’t merely surreal, it represented a moment of quiet triumph for an artist who, beneath the wild-man facial hair, has consistently authored tunes of almost indecent catchiness. Beam is, above all, an up-ender of convention. In his late 30s, he’s a confessional songwriter at ease with his lot in the world. Married, with five daughters, the Iron & Wine singer lives in an Austin, Texas dormer town and inhabits what from the outside resembles a life of suburban normality. Which may explain why Ghost On Ghost is largely a work of projection and fantasy: each of the 12 songs tells of a troubled relationship but, according to Beam, none of the narratives have any grounding in his actual existence. “It’s all crap,” he said recently. “My life is too boring. Nobody wants to hear about that.”
It’s as well he’s clarified that, because otherwise you might wonder exactly what Beam gets up to when he exits the homestead behind and hits the road. Recorded with members of Bob Dylan’s touring band, opener ‘Caught In The Briars’ finds a narrator bemoaning a serial heartbreaker, who specialises in shredding men’s self esteem. “All of the naked boys who sit down beside her,” he warbles, as horns gently parp. “Sing her the saddest songs, are caught in the briars.” To repeat: nothing to do with Beam’s actual life.
Beam took a largely executive role in the studio, overseeing the musicians but largely focusing on his singing. He has stated that he ‘felt like Sinatra’, a figurehead marshaling his forces. Certainly the Americana flourishes and high-piled guitars that were previously a trademark are on the back-burner. ‘Desert Babbler’ cranks up the ‘70s FM vibes; ‘Joy’ is mostly just Beam’s weightless coo, a dulcet piano and acres of reverb; ‘Grace For Saints & Ramblers‘ has the super-saturated glow of prime-time Fleetwood Mac, all ‘woo hoo’ backings and lush strings; and ‘New Mexico’s No Breeze’ is sterling powerpop, fueled by straining falsettos and marshmallow-soft choruses. A sweet, sublime triumph.