 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
|
 |
 |
||||||||||||||||||||||
 |
||||||||||||||||||||||
 |
||||||||||||||||||||||
 |
||||||||||||||||||||||
 | ||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||
|
||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|
|
|||||||||||||||||
|
|
|
||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|
 very band getting press these days seems to be frighteningly adept at frenetic yelping, emulating [insert seminal post-punk figure here], wearing pumps with leg warmers, and playing their guitars "unconventionally," like with violin bows or nickels or something. Well, either that or they're from Brooklyn. Iron & Wine is none of those things. In fact, Iron & Wine is just Samuel Beam: a Southern family man, born and raised in South Carolina. He's pleasantly bearded and speaks with a soft twang. He lives with his wife and two young children in Miami, where he writes sad, slow songs in his room and often records them. Last year, some tapes made their way to Sub Pop, which released his first album, The Creek Drank the Cradle. It's one of the most unearthly, quietly radiant records in years — a folky ode to the rites of passage we all wade through with searching eyes. It doesn't rock at all, and thus, it hits you harder. — Beth Wawerna
There aren't a lot of musicians out there making a splash in the indie-rock sect by playing folk-inspired music and singing real soft. It's all about the rock right now. But your record seems to appeal to everyone — even the kids with the cool hair. Infatuation with rock 'n' roll has been going on for fifty years, but it comes in cycles. Some dude came up to me at a show recently with this huge mohawk and all these tattoos and he said, "Hey man, that was a really good show." And then he punched me. [pause] Just kidding about the punching part. But really, that was my favorite. A year ago, I was doing all this shit in my room and a couple months later, I'm playing the Knitting Factory in New York. You know, you plan on going into the music industry and you prepare yourself to play these shitty bars and paying your dues and somehow I just seemed to bypass all of that.
I grew up in Columbia, South Carolina, but my grandparents all lived out in the country. My grandmother used to play piano in church. So I guess when I come up with the tunes it reminds me of those places. I've always liked meditative, prettier songs. I like playing faster stuff too, but if I'm gonna take the time to write a song, I want it to mean something to me. It's too easy to throw out silly rhymes. I'd rather make it interesting to myself. What did you listen to as a kid? My mom had a lot of '70s singer-songwriter stuff, and my dad was really into Motown. But mostly I just listened to the radio. I got a guitar when I was about fourteen. I was really into punk and New Wave, and I started playing with my buddies, trying to learn Joy Division songs and stuff. Most of the time, it was just me tinkering with my guitar in my room. Honestly, I think it developed into a quieter sound mostly just because I didn't want to wake anyone else up in the house. You live in Miami now, which isn't a city people generally associate with a thriving music scene. Does that help or hinder the creative process? It's really grown on me. The first year, you just see what's on the surface of Miami — the lights and the thongs — but I've found a lot of good people there. I have a family now, so I could be happy pretty much anywhere. I don't really look for the same things in a city as I did when I was single. I have a couple of musician friends, but we don't really play together that much. I'm just so used to doing it by myself at home, and I think that makes a big difference. I don't think solitude is a great thing, but it really allows you to pay attention to your work. Over the past few years, I just recorded them at my house whenever I got the chance. It was a hobby. And it wasn't like I was pressed for time, so I could try and create something that worked. I always thought, "Wow, it would be cool to get paid to play music." It was always a pipe dream. I always enjoyed it. But then I also had this brilliant idea that I wanted to make movies. Why? I got into movies because it's such a conglomeration of all the art forms I like to do. I used to do a lot of production work, and now I teach cinematography and screenwriting at this college in Miami. It's been a real inspiration to me. You have to get very specific with what you know if you want to teach it to others. The good thing about songwriting is that I can still do the visual storytelling, but I have more poetic license. Poems are one of the few things you can really set to music and it works. Screenwriting is fun, but it still feels kind of dry. I treat my songs more as poems. Can you tell me about the little ones? I have a four year old and a six month old, Ruth and Arden. I love your beard. How often do you have to trim that thing? Thanks. It's out of pure laziness. Not shaving is awesome. Actually, I shaved it two or three year ago and my wife hated it. So I grew it back again. Now I have an excuse to be lazy. n° 
© 2003 by Beth Wawerna and Nerve.com.
|
| |||||||||||||||
| featured personal | ||
|
|
||
| partner links | ||
| sponsored links | ||
