Review: Iron & Wine with Califone; Tuesday, November 27, 2007; 4th & B, San Diego

This entry was posted by owl and bear staff on Wednesday, November 28th, 2007 at 1:00 am.

After a hassle with misappropriated tickets and a trip back to the car to return what is apparently my “professional rig” camera, we got into 4th and B, got drinks, and found seats. A friend’s description of the venue pretty much proved true: outside, it looks like a skyscraper; when you first walk inside, it looks like someone’s dilapidated barn; when you get into the actual venue, it looks like a pretty decent place.

Because of the shenanigans that delayed our entrance, 4th & B’s best seats were already taken, but we decided to sit in a less-ideal area instead of standing by the bar under the pretense that we were constantly in line for drinks. Unfortunately, even minor view obstruction in the seats quickly proved far from worth it, as we quickly became subjected to an ongoing, jovial conversation between two annoying girls seated in front of us.

Califone‘s audience was refreshingly enthusiastic, but the show didn’t start immediately because guitar/banjoist Jim Becker couldn’t get sound out of his mic. Thus began a pretty hilarious “Vaudeville”-esque routine, as lead singer Tim Rutili put it, where Becker mouthed words that nobody could hear, and Rutili spoke for him through his mic. They started anyway, with (I think) “Trout Silk” from Roomsound, which morphed into a lengthy experimental jam.

All the while, the girls in front told people to get out of their view, but didn’t think that shouting above the music to make mundane plans and jokes would bother anyone. Between songs told them that Thursday jazz sounded great! and laughed loudly at their jokes, but I guess they were too stupid to realize that they were being insulted, so they kept on talking.

Califone’s performance as a whole was one of their best that I’ve seen, with Ben Massarella joining on percussion—his first of two shifts for the night, since he’s also a full-time member of Iron & Wine‘s touring band. Other songs played included “Michigan Girls,” “The Orchids,” “Your Golden Ass,” and “The Eye You Lost in the Crusades.” These guys are truly one of the best of the more obscure groups out there, and the audience (with a few new fans, I’m sure) showed their appreciation.

If San Diegans appreciated Califone, they practically soiled themselves over Sam Beam and his 7 person outfit (instruments played included keyboard, grand piano, bass, upright electric bass, drums, percussion, pedal steel, violin, and xylophone). Beam and his sister Sarah frequently duetted on vocals, and they sounded great; all worries about the stage adaptation of “The Shepherd’s Dog” were put to rest.

The large band made for a lovely, full sound, and a slight reworking of a few of his older songs (to match his new electronicky-ness) made it impossible for Beam and his band to merely rattle-off the old standards. Everyone played happily and harmoniously throughout the evening, despite repeated requests from an out of place Missouri military guy up front: “‘Jezebel,’ sir, won’t you please play ‘Jezebel?’”

During the encore break, I asked my lady friend why nobody from the band just closed the book on “Jezebel” and said “Sorry, not tonight,” but my question was answered when the bearded Beam walked out, alone, and played an acoustic version of the song that rivaled Jeff Tweedy’s best solo-acoustic work.

“Damn,” was really all I could think as Beam strummed his sweet guitar like he hadn’t played the song in a while. His acknowledgment of the cheeky fan showed that Beam is so genuinely friendly he’ll not only play the requested song, but he’ll also treat the audience to something cathartic. Tight band and great sound aside, we can only hope for a Sam Beam solo tour in the Tweedy fashion. Beam still seems a little surprised and humbled that people like him so much, though, so maybe the solo tour won’t happen for a while.

Many of the show’s songs came from “The Shepherd’s Dog,” which might have disappointed some long-time fans, but one other song alone should’ve satisfied the audience’s hunger for older material: “Sodom, South Georgia” made its presence known as possibly the best song written by someone who will prove to be one of this era’s most celebrated American songwriters.