Beast Epic

A confident album from an artist who isn’t afraid to merge the past and present, Sam Beam continues to audibly demonstrate why he’s one of the most gifted songwriters of his time.

Don’t look for fireworks here, but rather smaller, quieter revelations that take time to unveil themselves.

It may not be a step forward, but it is a strong step in a very pleasing direction, especially for fans of a more unfiltered Iron & Wine.

This record is snug, unthreatening and comforting, which means anyone looking for rage and catharsis ought to give it a wide berth. But for many of those preoccupied by the kind of concerns that trouble Sam Beam--chiefly thoughts of mortality and fallibility--Beast Epic will be a long, warm, healing embrace.

Beast Epic is laidback and monochromatic but enlivened by its discourse. [Oct 2017, p.32]

Here is a warm, kind album that may sag a little on the second side but has songs up there with Beam’s best. Think Teenage Fanclub’s recent Here for a similar bittersweet reunion. Mellow doubt indeed.

These songs may be modest--none break the four-minute mark--and undemanding, but their sure-footed craft creates profound, 12-tog comfort.

Although Beast Epic does not broadcast its complexity and depth as with some past Iron & Wine efforts, it's still lovely, dark and deep. [No. 145, p.58]

It might not look like it's going to leap out and grab you, but Beam here launches a soft emotional ambush. [Sep 2017, p.87]

Beast Epic arks a surprising loop back to the more insular feel of his earlier material. [Sep 2017, p.110]

Beast Epic may well sound too tame and house-trained to sustain interest. Keep at it, however, and the album is soon likely to cast a subtle spell.

It is the sound of Iron & Wine returning home, ending one chapter and beginning another.

Beast Epic is a worthy addition to the Iron And Wine catalogue and an example of an album that improves the more and deeper you listen to it.

Across the course of its 11 tracks, Beast Epic leaves a sense of comfort and knowing. By that token, it will not be considered a classic record and many of the tracks blend into a warm, slightly blurred haze. However, it also marks a return to form for Iron & Wine, and certainly his best album since 2007’s The Shepherd’s Dog, and potentially his finest vocal performance to date.

On Beast Epic, Iron & Wine has rediscovered the power and beauty in scaling back when it serves the song, and the result is Beam's most dynamic and convincing record in years.

Beast Epic is a good album. In some senses, it’s satisfying. It just doesn’t get to the concreteness, to the creation that makes it something more.

Everything about Beast Epic feels true to Iron & Wine. Beam neither abandons his greater ambitions nor overindulges. He’s making a return trip to his roots, offering a gentle reminder of his early records’ simple beauty while allowing himself the freedom to build.

While Beast Epic doesn’t quite match the strength of those records, it still remains his most pleasing work since 2007’s ‘The Shepherd’s Dog’.

This is tender and meditative music that contemplates the complex tapestry of existence.

A robust production that's decidedly stripped, at its best moments approaching the finest parts of The Shepherd's Dog. [Jul - Sep 2017, p.57]