St. George’s Church, Kemptown

The folk styling of London openers JOHNNY FLYNN AND THE SUSSEX WIT bring to mind a lucklustre Clann Zú and the timbre of Mr. Flynn’s fiddle is lost in the mix, their overall sound fails to lend to the expanse of such a bespoke setting. At times muddled and ramshackle, the resonating space seems only to compound a band who just doesn’t sound right.

St. George’s, a modest parish church in the heart of Kemptown, is a fitting host and a pain in the backside in equal measure. The natural resonance is warm and inviting, but hard pews and lack of a fresh air supply is suffocating. Nevertheless, we could all see the spectacle as it unfolded in front of us.

IRON & WINE, now expanded into an 8-piece touring group, casually set up around the church’s permanent fixtures. Their leads and wires creep around pillars like some great plant as members of the band mill casually around the makeshift stage. Unfortunately, the synthetic mood lighting in green and fuschia pink seems rather trite and strips the church of some of its reverence.

Waist-coated Sam Beam, an understated and softly-spoken gent, is quiet and humble, keeping chat to a minimum and letting his lucid and beautiful compositions take centre stage. Songs from his minimal second album are updated with lap slide guitar and their melodies woven simply around each other. After a few songs, the sound levels are perfect and the audience captivated. The set draws heavily on ‘The Shepherd’s Dog’, recently released and cherished by the sold out congregation.

It is only towards the very end of the performance that we get to see the real Iron & Wine, one that made ‘Our Endless Numbered Days’ a lo-fi indie classic: naked, sincere and starkly beautiful. Beam’s insistent refrain of “please remember me” on ‘Trapeze Singer’ is not overlooked as the audience rise from their seats, raucous and applauding.

As one brazen chap calls out in a lull, “Thank you for this, it’s beautiful.”Â

Matthew Harfield