It’s around this time of year that, with the right kind of eyes, you can sense the coming of spring. Even if you’re still wearing blankets around the house like ponchos and downing bottles of vitamin D, you know that in four short weeks the world is going to feel softer and more inviting. Hen’s Teeth might be the record to capitalize on that flash of seasonal optimism.
Musician Sam Beam has released records as Iron & Wine since 2002. If you’re unfamiliar with his work, you’ll find his albums comfortably seated in the folk and rock sections of your local record store. He’s mostly a one-man act, conceiving, recording and often performing on his own. That was his approach until 2019, when he released the album Years to Burn, which was co-written with Tex-Mex rock duo Calexico. Like many artists, Beam sat out the COVID-19 pandemic. His next release was 2024’s Light Verse.
Hen’s Teeth is the next in line, and it marks another notable collaboration – this time with folk pop power trio I’m With Her. Sara Watkins, Aoife O'Donovan and Sarah Jarosz are a welcome addition to Iron & Wine’s work. While the three-piece is only credited on two songs, “Robin’s Egg” and “Wait Up,” to my ear, they’re crucial to the brisk, pre-spring chill found throughout all of Hen’s Teeth.
Other standouts on the album include the opener “Roses,” which offers the biggest sound on a relatively quiet record and includes the only instance of electronic instruments, at least in any prominent way. The lite samba of “Defiance, Ohio” is a giddy little jaunt, while “Dates and Dead People” feels like a quiet child communing with fairies in long-hollowed logs (or maybe Beam’s altered visage on the album’s cover).
“Singing Saw” adds a gentle dizziness to the record and finds Beam’s singing accentuated by a girthy cello. “In Your Ocean” is delightful on its own, but the slow smile that grew across my face was thanks to its music video. It’s been a while since I applied “darling” as an adjective to anything, but this cracked the code.
While Hen’s Teeth breaks no molds for Iron and Wine, I doubt it was designed for that, and that’s okay by me. It’s well-paced. It’s patient. It’s a hot cup of mulled wine at the end of the right late winter day. In summary [checks wine notes]: Pairs well with the introspective, stripped-down approach of Iron & Wine’s early work. This is a record to savor once you’re at peace with your solitude, anticipating the first true thaw of the year.
