Perched gently atop a large piece of driftwood sits a long-haired and bearded man. The flickering shadows created by the flames of the campfire reflect onto his hippy-like face. Surrounding him we are sat, silently, listening attentively as he opens his mouth to softly sing. The fresh midnight sea breeze gently blows through my hair as I lay back against the fresh sand, staring up at the clear night sky. I prepare myself for an evening beneath the stars. My mind is replete with images that rotate like a kaleidoscope of colours. I dream of a house by the sea. In my sleep I swim in the ocean that exists between it and me. I am content; I live there in harmony.

NB: I’ve fallen into a lucid dream state. Don’t bother trying to talk to me, just leave a message and I’ll get back to you when awake.

The privilege is all ours. Witnessing Samuel Beam (aka Iron & Wine) play this one-off unaccompanied acoustic showcase in aid of new album The Shepherd’s Dog provides us an early-evening bedtime storybook. In a state more akin to that exhibited on debut album The Creek Drank The Cradle this is Iron & Wine at his most beautiful and low-key. Taking to the tiny stage for a tight rendition of new single ‘Boy With A Coin’, the intricate and bluesy guitar patterns exhibit a newly skilled songwriting craft. But it’s the familiar echoes of ‘Sodom, South Georgia’, that recall memories of long summer road trips down California’s winding Highway 1, which transport us from this humid dark room. By the time Beams picks the opening chords of ‘Passing Afternoon’ we are immersed in the sounds and poetic concepts he conjures. Its simple melody hits us like a hypnagogic lullaby. And that’s how I’ve ended up here, lying on this beach.

With brainwave frequencies rapidly approaching delta, brand new album track ‘House By The Sea’, complete with organic hand slap percussion and slide guitar, stands out like the warmth of a visit from an old friend. Whilst Beam’s new record exhibits a significant move away from the lo-fi sounds found on his debut, when performed in this solo-acoustic manner even fresh songs sound just like old classics. Unfortunately, tuning problems leave ‘Pagan Angel and a Borrowed Car’ sounding flat, but a crescendo of vocal harmonies provide a strong finish leaving us mesmerised, cementing Beam’s effortless ability with his craft. He displays strong blues influences on the gutsy slide guitar rendition of new track ‘Peace Beneath the City’ which emerges more memorable live than its ragged album version. ‘The Devil Never Sleeps’ is another that is all hammer-ons and blues structures, proving Beam doesn’t just play blissed-out folk ditties.

And with that, the vivid imagery literate Beam has conjured in our minds begins to boil over. We wait, with bated breath, for the breathtaking ‘Naked As We Came’ but it never arrives. Instead, he lulls us ever so gently through rhyme and an air of melancholic loss on album closer ‘Flightless Bird, American Mouth’, almost whispering “Then when the cops closed the fair, I cut my long baby hair / And stole me a dog-eared map / And called for you everywhere”. While it’s a set consisting largely of these new gems, this stripped back live sound in a venue so tiny is where the real magic Iron & Wine possesses exists. And that’s not something we get to see everyday.