Iron And Wine
Sealed with a Kiss
Iron & Wine successfully shifts musical directions on its new album

By Jeff Niesel

Ten years ago, singer-songwriter Sam Beam took his hushed indie rock recordings out of his basement and into the music studio so the world could hear. At the time, he wasn’t sure he was making the right decision. But now, he has a loyal cult following and his new album, Kiss Each Other Clean, marks his major-label debut. It’s also a bit of musical departure as it ventures into reggae (“Big Burned Hand”) evocates ’70s pop (“Monkeys Uptown”) and incorporates horns into the mix (“Your Fake Name is Good Enough for Me”). Beam recently phoned in from Los Angeles as he was rehearsing for a week-of-release appearance on Conan to discuss the new disc and his upcoming tour, slated for early spring.

You’ve described Kiss Each Other Clean as a “focused pop record.” What inspired you to write music that sounds like something from the ’70s?
Uh, well, you know, that’s nostalgic music for me. That’s one of the types that we haven’t pursued. It was fun. You know, you start recording a song and throwing different clothes on it and you come across something that’s propulsive and it sounds like [Fleetwood Mac’s] Christine McVie kind of stuff. You have a choice. You can either bury it or you can jump on it and enjoy it. I love that music. We didn’t shy away from it. It just came about in the process of making this thing, and I try to stay open to what comes around. That’s an element that’s always been in my music and it just came to the forefront.

Did you write everything on acoustic guitar?
I’ve been writing more on piano lately. They all start either with the piano or the guitar. Some are guitar and some are piano. I enjoy writing on the piano and those songs tend to be more melody driven rather than percussive guitar patterns.

The album sounds like it was made so meticulously. How have your recording techniques changed over the years?
We definitely tried some different techniques. You’d have to talk to [producer] Brian [Deck]. We talked about late ’60s and early ’70s recordings from Los Angeles. Everything got really dry and there was no reverb. The rhythm section is your control, almost. We spoke about that going into it but you’d have to talk to Brian about some of that stuff.

But in general are you more comfortable in the recording studio now than you were in the early days?
For sure. The first record was just me doing stuff in my house. It was the result of a hobby. The second one, we went to the studio. I gotta be honest, there was a big learning curve. Now, I love the studio. I love the possibility but at the same time it was hard to get accustomed to what you are hearing. Now, that’s not so important. At the time, I was really into translating what was in your head and getting it on track. Now, you play around and fool around and discover things. Serendipity is a fun tool. It’s not about being able to get across what you wanted in the first place. It’s more about discovering something new.

Coming on the heels of an album you said was inspired by “political confusion,” do you see this as a departure?
No, not necessarily. It just picked up where the last one left off. I said that at the time. It’s much like the way I said this one has ’70s pop elements and that’s what people talk about. That thing came about when Bush got re-elected and not that it was big political reaction, but I just remember being shocked. Everything is extremely subjective where any image can be interpreted one way or another. It was more like the ground came out from under me and you think you know the people around you but you don’t. That was fertile ground for a record. That element kind of existed in the writing before, that surreal element. Now it has carried through. Like all the records, there are old songs and new songs and everything in between. It’s not uncommon. Most of the albums have songs that have been around for awhile.

What’s behind the title?
It comes from a line from the last song on the album. It’s about kids climbing on cars and kissing each other clean. There’s something going on in that it’s a heavy record. It’s about life, warts and all. Both the happy and the sad and the sweet and the sorrow. At the same time, it’s danceable and more upbeat than what we normally do. It’s got more of a pulse, and I thought I’d give a nod to that with the title.

The opening tune, “Walking Far From Home” is very cinematic and seems like it could be a scene in a movie. Talk about your background in cinema and how that’s influenced your music.
I don’t necessarily apply stuff from screenwriting. I’m drawn to writing in this more visual way for the same reason that I’m drawn to drawing. I like the more visual language. It doesn’t fail or succeed on how well you argue something. It is what it is. You can derive meaning from it or not. It’s more suggestive than explanatory, and I like that. With that one in particular, I had the melody batting around for quite a while. I think I was on tour in Australia and the line “walking far from home” came about very easily. You start describing things you see or heard about or just make up. It goes through draft after draft and you boil it down to the images you think work the best together. You just try to stay open to the creative process.

I love the tenderness in “Tree by the River,” a really terrific love song. What inspired it?
That’s an older tune. The basis of that one was something personal to me. Over the years, it gets shaped into a more interesting story than my own. But it has that nostalgic feel of memories from being a teenager. Sometimes I wonder what they’re thinking about or if they think it was important to them. That’s not an uncommon sentiment. It just depends on what images you choose. With that one in particular, I always liked the melody; it just had a tendency to be saccharine and heavy.

There’s a great jam at the end of “Monkeys Uptown.” That song sounds like a lot of fun to play. 
Yeah. That was super fun.

When I first heard “Rabbit Run,” I was reminded of the John Updike book. Is that what you’re referencing?
Yeah, but it’s more like Rabbit who ran. No, it comes from this guy who compares himself to several different animals. It was more of a nod to the traditional bluegrass song. I love playing with images that are loaded with baggage. Biblical characters and even sounds like the saxophone are loaded. People hear that and they either hate it or they love it. It belongs to so many contexts. It’s fun to take those sounds and words. The deck is already loaded.

“Your Fake Name is Good Enough For Me” is such a trippy tune. To me, it’s one of the album’s best tunes.
That was two songs, and we wanted to combine them. I like a lot of African music and it’s fun to be able to show everyone that it’s the roots of the blues and do it in a Junior Kimbrough juke joint kind of tune played with an African percussion section. Some people into that music genealogy stuff might be get a kick out of it. Other people might not think about it, but they might just tap their foot to it.

I know you’re playing a few dates this week in L.A. and you play New York this weekend. Talk about the upcoming spring tour and how you think the new songs will mesh with the old ones.
Well, we’ll see. I got a new band. For a long time, we have taken a lot of liberties on the stage and I approach it from the stance that people have the records at home. We don’t fool around with stuff in order to piss people off. I don’t play the records note for note. We try to continue the creative process to the stage where we keep rewriting the songs. Sometimes we take the old songs and beef them up so they sound like the new stuff and sometimes we take the new songs and strip them down like the old stuff. I just try to make a show and have a good time.

Your fan base has been extremely loyal. During at time when fans are more whimsical than ever, why have you been able to cultivate such ardent fans?
I don’t know. If I knew, I’d bottle it, for sure. You just try to be honest with what you do and hopefully people will dig it.