Recap Iron & Wine and Heidi Spencer at the Pabst Theater

Iron & Wine’s Sam Beam walked on stage Wednesday at the Pabst Theater like the professor you always kind of assumed was a rock star in his spare time. He wore a collared shirt with a sloppy sport coat and dress pants. He calls people “man” and hands out nicknames like “DJ Burger,” which he tagged on his backing musician. It makes Beam seem like “just one of the guys,” though whenever he starts playing one of his patented heartbreakers, it’s clear why he is teaching the class.

Opening with a mesmerizing a cappella version of “Flightless Bird, American Mouth,” Beam set a gentle, subdued tone that carried through the rest of the evening. With minimal instrumentation and vocal harmonies it was easy to focus on the lyrical content, always one of Iron & Wine’s strengths. Beam has a way of merging mundane domestic scenes beautifully with the spiritual and otherworldly on songs like “The Trapeze Swinger,” where he sings, “they went on to say that the pearly gates had some eloquent graffiti like, ‘we’ll meet again, and fuck the man, and tell my mother not to worry.’” By juxtaposing vivid imagery that’s more often associated with poetry, he’s able to weave the fabric of a new world where the real and the heavenly coexist.

And just like the cool professor, Beam didn’t spend too much time fooling around. “It’s so easy to just barrel through these songs,” he said before asking the audience in the top balcony of the sold-out theater how they were doing. The performance ended with the powerful “Sodom, South Georgia,” followed by a one-song encore of “He Lays In The Reins.” After an evening of heady, enthralling songs, the brief encore was perfect—covering all the important points without going overboard and ending right on time. It was hard to deny the same satisfying feeling of being let out of class early, even if it’s your favorite.

Heidi Spencdr

Heidi Spencer’s between-song stage presence is deceptive. During her opening set, she told long stories, often stopping to go back to correct details, or jumping to completely different topics. It could have been mistaken as nervousness if she weren’t so charming—discussing Silver Strike Bowling in the basement, seeing The Grinch as a kid from the far top balcony of the Pabst with binoculars, or getting a “steal” on her records by sweet talking the guy at the merch table.

Once she started playing, however, it was almost like watching a different person. Spencer’s voice was as thick as smoke and peaked and crackled at just the right times—like listening to AM radio on an old stereo. With strong, deliberate strumming, she conjured songs about not fitting in, lonely city nights, and wanderlust all drenched in the mood of film noir.

The most captivating moment of her set came during “Alibi,” in which she paused to snap her fingers between phrases. Halfway through, she stopped playing—which she predicted she would out of forgetfulness—and shouted, “Oh shit!” After remembering that the performance was being recorded for broadcast she screamed, “They told me not to swear, press the button! Stop it!” After laughing and applauding the audience instinctively began snapping along when she started playing again. When the song ended, there was a mixture of claps and snapping like at a poetry reading. It was a moment of genuine bonding between the audience and Spencer that carried on to the end of her performance.