Michael Patrick Brady

My review of Iron & Wine’s The Shepherd’s Dog is now available at ALARM. It’s clear to me from reading some of the other reviews that were published elsewhere that I’m somewhat alone in not enjoying the record. Naturally, I’m right and they’re wrong.

The Shepherd’s Dog is Beam’s most professional release yet, recorded with a full band and clearly bearing the marks of hi-fi, glossy production. While I prefer the scratchy home-recorded feel of The Creek Drank the Cradle, I’m not entirely averse to some fidelity. “16, Maybe Less” from In the Reins (in fact that whole album) benefited from the clarity that a professional set-up provided, and it sounds fantastic. The Shepherd’s Dog, on the other hand, feels like somebody got carried away with all the knobs and effects at their disposal.

The Pitchfork review is a great big softball that relies on some typical Americana cliches and isn’t anything but a reverent take on the record. I have to strongly disagree with the writer’s assertion that the album succeeds in “preserving the best aspects of Beam’s earlier recordings.” Those familiar aspects are there, yes; I don’t think Beam’s talent for lyrics and songwriting have departed him, they’re just buried under unnecessary, obscuring accents which spoil the album. The Rolling Stone reivew mentions the “Leslie-organ like effect” which cloaks his voice on “Carousel” in a way which implies approval. To me, it’s a gauzy affectation that prevents one from parsing what’s actually happening on an otherwise engaging song.

A thought that continued to nag at me as I listened to The Shepherd’s Dog, particularly the soggy-vocal effect on “Carousel” was that Iron & Wine was thinning out his sound. That may seem like an unusual assertion, as the record is probably the most full-bodied Iron & Wine release, as far as arrangements and instrumentation. Still, the layers upon layers that Beam piles on his songs only dilute the power of his songwriting. In the past, all that was needed was his voice, some guitar, and the lyrics. The Shepherd’s Dog sounds like indie-rock James Taylor, the hint or memory of songcraft burdened with a Lite-FM sheen. Perhaps this is the moment where Iron & Wine shakes off the Americana label and presents itself in a similar mold as Death Cab for Cutie, ready for consumption and with a more polished appearance. If he shaves that beard in the next month or so, you’ll know I’m right.