Remember that M&Ms commercial that aired a ways back; the one that made you feel like you were being lulled into a chocolaty childhood dreamland? Mmm. So sweet, so silky. Melts in your ears. That may have been your first taste of Iron & Wine.

In 2001 Sam Beam was writing songs as a hobby. By 2002 he had released The Creek Drank the Cradle (Sub Pop), a collection of recordings from his own Florida bedroom. With minimal arrangements and an air of antiquity, The Creek was an instant hit in indie circles. It eventually blossomed to popularity enjoyed by Dylan, Mitchell and Young: that is to say, even dads like it. An EP, The Sea and the Rhythm, was right on the heels of that smash debut.

This first collection of takes still sounds rough, gritty, as if time has already sanded pieces away. Melodies, just familiar enough, whisper above oh-so-steady pattern picking, and you could swear that just beyond the prayers and missives you can smell the wisteria and hear the clinking of pots and pans against the old iron stove. The hissing microphones, actually: a seething pot of boiling water.

Then came Our Endless Numbered Days when Beam sundered his green-eyed admirers from their reverie of oldfangled things. Accompanied this time by producer Brian Deck (Califone, Modest Mouse), Beam abandoned the scenescent static of the bedroom for a crisp new page. If The Creek is a bit of auld lang syne, Our Endless Numbered Days are happening now.

Beam’s words shine out in their own right, but it’s with sound that Days paints landscapes, both vast and intimate, down to that last blade of grass. “On Your Wings” creeps into your mouth like bugs and little frogs; lap steel gleams at the end like the last glorious legs of daylight. In “Cinder and Smoke,” the bass guitar smolders, the banjo snaps and long breathy exhalations linger in your lungs: ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh. “Sodom, South Georgia” wakes like a tree full of bees.

In 2005, those clucks and wisps and breaths synonymous with Iron & Wine exploded with the six-song Woman King EP. Joan of Arc, Jezebel, the Lady of Shallot: our old heroes bloody, righteous and fallen. Holy shit. There’s nothing more can be said about this album. Just listen to it. You won’t be able to help but hear it.

The perse oozings of Woman King have faded to make way for Sam Beam’s latest design. The Shepherd Dog (Sub Pop, 2007) leads us on an easy, and uncharacteristically upbeat, stroll through the artist’s record collection. CSNY, George Harrison, Rain Dogs, Gospel! and prog, Simon & Garfunkel, glimmers of alt rock and old and new Creole claps and shoes. Saxophone, Leslie speakers and distortion pedals. I’ll be damned–synthesizers.

Although these keepsakes are on full display, this new album is true to its roots. Its poetry of mouth and hand is evocative as ever and still calls back to hot chapels and the balmy memory of youth. It folds you up in sound like none other of Beam’s records can. The Shepherd’s Dog is a testament to Sam Beam’s consistency and devotion to his craft. What ardent talent there is in the world.

If you’d like to investigate Iron & Wine, you can do the regular stuff here. Live recordings are now available for digital purchase here. For a homespun touch, visit Muddy Hymnal. You can buy his new album at Insound or directly from Sub Pop.

Read more Artist Profiles from ListenIn.

© Ryan Stolte-Sawa 2007 for ListenIn. Some rights reserved.

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