Damien Rice. Iron & Wine. Red Rocks. 08.10.15

The transformative process of puberty is something every boy experiences. It’s a part of growing up. The physical and biological changes can cause excitement, confusion, anxiety and anger – sometimes all within the running time of a single song. As men, we sometimes forget what it was like to lose control of our own bodies (even though most of us only experience the slightest semblance of control in our adult lives), but 41-year-old Damien Rice remembers. The man has made a living by channeling those pubescent problems into prose. Using piles of suitcases, each full of a million of dollars, as a metaphor for the millions of sperm that build up before we know what to do with them, Rice explained pre-teen frustration in a way that would make most sex education teachers blush. “Don’t use them. Save them for later. Don’t do anything bad with them. Don’t let them get you into trouble.” Standing on the stage at Red Rocks, glass of red wine in hand, the Irishman with the guitar decided to up the ante in the race for the most intimate show in Morrison this season. The speech about masturbation led into “The Professor”, and with lyrics like “Loving is good if your dick’s made of wood”, he proved that while puberty is inevitable, maturity is not a guaranteed outcome.

Damien Rice writes fragile songs. Quiet songs. So it is fitting that he performs them alone. But Damien Rice is not a fragile, quiet man. He can be quite crass at times (talking about jerking off in a bathroom during a date) and just like a teenager who doesn’t know where to aim his pent up rage, he destroys that which is closest to him. His songs become casualties of a man who hasn’t learned how to deal with grown up emotions. Great art isn’t made by balanced people though, so Damien Rice’s lack of discipline equates to a songbook of powerful ballads that break from the established norms ballads are built on. As “9 Crimes” spun out of control, with on-the-fly recorded loops, strobe lights and heavy percussion, Rice’s whisper built to a scream – “Is that alright with you?!!!” It was a rhetorical question. Lisa Hannigan had already provided the answer when she left him almost seven years ago. “No.” The absence of her voice was almost as loud as the applause bestowed upon her ex-lover as the song she used to sing led into “Delicate”. It was an incredible start to the set.

It wasn’t all doom and gloom and sticky tissues though. Rice expressed genuine shock as he stared in awe at his surroundings. Forgoing a soundcheck, he was literally looking out at Red Rocks for the first time. “Maybe my plane landed in gig heaven,” he said, before assuring us that he had “the better view.” “It’s like standing in front of someone you’re attracted to. These rocks are turning me on.” Showing some hesitation about “filling such a beautiful place with sad, depressing songs”, he proceeded on, “because that’s what you all came for.” He was making points that couldn’t be argued, so the quiet, attentive crowd settled down into an almost eerie silence as he introduced us to his dark side. You could literally hear a beer spill and a small child cough while Rice filled the large stage with nothing more than a guitar, two mics, a loop pedal and some soft light. The back-to-back “Elephant” and “9 Crimes” were the only selections from his last album with Hannigan, so besides “The Professor”, the rest of the set was made up of O and My Favourite Faded Fantasy (the first album without Hannigan’s voice, but haunted by the ghost of who she used to be).

We were instructed to enjoy “seven guilt-free minutes” during an accordion-driven version of “Trusty and True”, but I’d be lying if I said he didn’t lose me a bit during that song. He brought me right back with the string-strong “Volcano” though. Slapping his guitar for full effect, the sole shadow on the stage engaged the audience to fill in for its absent partner. “Older Chest” was also performed straight-up. The audience was held in their seats with heavy hearts during that gem. It had been a long night of weighty music though, so when he started talking a little too much before “Colour Me In”, he started losing more and more of the Iron & Wine crowd. And as he tested the boundaries of his loop machine and (unused until that point) cymbals and bass drum, my patience started to unravel along with “It Takes a Lot to Know a Man”. If it weren’t for “The Blower’s Daughter”, I would have joined the growing line of people crowding the stairs to the Upper North Lot, but there was no way I was leaving before I heard the song that turned me on to him in the first place.

“The Greatest Bastard” is my favorite from the new album, so it was a welcome addition during the encore, but after two and a half hours (counting Iron & Wine) of heavy, heavy material from two solo artists, it was almost a relief when Rice closed with the track that many had been waiting for the entire night. It’s not that he didn’t perform a bunch of amazing songs, it’s just that I couldn’t help but compare every one of them to the song from “Closer”. I don’t even know if it sounded good. I didn’t even notice that he was singing both the male and female parts. I heard it exactly as I heard it in the film. “I can’t take my mind off of you…” I didn’t even see Damien Rice. I saw Natalie Portman. She was beautiful. The song was beautiful as well. And then, right there at the end, Rice burst my memory bubble with those five little words…“’til I find somebody new”…bringing us full circle to that 13-year-old boy who doesn’t know shit about shit when it comes to love. Either that, or to the grown man who isn’t afraid to be brutally honest. Earlier in the set Rice claimed to have never written a love song. That might be true, but I’d also argue that they are all love songs…they just aren’t the type you’d want written about you.

As mentioned before, Sam Beam (aka Iron & Wine) performed a full set to open the evening. Iron & Wine was the first musical act I ever saw at Red Rocks (when he opened for Flight of the Conchords back in 2008), so there was some nostalgia floating around when he reminisced about the time he “opened for a comedy act.” This was the first time he’d performed the Rocks in broad daylight though, so it was nice that he was encouraged by a large crowd who were full of song suggestions. “Damien’s people are my kind of people…people who like to mellow the fuck out.” It’s never easy to perform solo with an acoustic guitar while the sun is shining on thousands of people, but Beam used wordplay, sarcasm and an inviting sense of humor to woo the crowd into his ‘mellow’ way of life.

Showing equal attention to compositions from across his entire body of work, Beam wasn’t too cool to take requests from the crowd, “You guys have a lot of good ideas,“ but he also wasn’t afraid to stand his ground when necessary, “You’re pretty adamant about that one, but I’m afraid it ain’t your day man.” The music was extremely easy going. Even “Me and Lazarus”, from the more experimental Kiss Each Other Clean, was stripped down for the occasion. There was just something about Beam’s voice and disposition that held the crowd’s attention though. Marijuana might have had something to do with it, “you guys are high, but it’s ok, so am I…it makes this shit sound good,” but Beam’s performance as Iron & Wine is the type of thing the Red Rocks Amphitheatre was built for. As he closed things out with an extended version of ”The Trapeze Swinger”, you could almost hear the ghosts of the acoustic folk acts from the early 1900s who prompted the CCC/WPA project in the first place. And when Beam finished up with that particular song, he received the standing ovation he deserved.

Iron & Wine:
Upward Over the Mountain
Low Light Buddy of Mine
Waitin’ for a Superman
Me and Lazarus
Love and Some Verses
Jezebel
Sundown (Back in the Briars)
Sixteen, Maybe Less
Fever Dream
Freedom Hangs Like Heaven
Communion Cups and Someone’s Coat
Any Day Woman
The Trapeze Swinger

Damien Rice:
My Favourite Faded Fantasy
Elephant
9 Crimes
Delicate
The Professor & La Fille Danse
Trusty and True
Volcano
Older Chests
Colour Me In
It Takes a Lot to Know a Man

The Greatest Bastard
The Blower’s Daughter