For almost as long as humans have had fire, they've been writing songs about it. Billy Joel didn't start it, Hendrix wanted to stand next to it, and Jerry Lee Lewis had great balls of it. For Johnny Cash, it burned, burned, burned in an unholy ring. You might expect, then, that a record titled Love Letter for Fire would pay direct homage to the power of those crackling flames. But instead, Sam Beam and Jesca Hoop deliver a gently rolling record that recalls healing summer storms more than destructive blazes.
You'll know Sam Beam as the bearded fellow behind Iron & Wine, while Hoop is an American singer-songwriter who now calls Manchester, England home. The two co-wrote the thirteen duets that comprise the record, and they're all seamless amalgamations of each writer's poetic songwriting style.
Some of these tunes are a little dark at times, like the lonely and hopeful "Soft Place to Land,” but these songs never feel beholden to any particular sadness—or for that matter, joy. Even with its moment-to-moment ups and downs, the album keeps an even keel that refrains from ebullient delight or languishing sorrow. It's a surprisingly fertile middle ground that's only effective thanks to the pair's beguiling lyrics.
Love Letter for Fire sounds lush and gorgeous from its outset, with arrangements that do the songs justice without being overwrought. They're rich and earthy, with Glenn Kotche's gentle percussion grounding airy string parts. Beam's voice sounds far more at home among low-end strings and piano than it did on Ghost On Ghost, his jazz-inclined Iron & Wine LP from 2013. And though the instrumentation is more or less the same across the record, subtle shifts in tempo keep it from becoming a gray lump of indistinguishable, uninteresting songs. "One Way to Pray” sways like an old porch swing, while "Bright Lights and Goodbyes” steps lightly as it ambles along.
The duo's exquisite vocal harmonies are the crown jewel of Love Letter for Fire, with the centerpiece and single "Every Songbird Says” maximizing each singer's strengths. Her voice is high and taut against his lower, billowing warmth. They circle each other from line to line and soar upward together gracefully on the song's high notes. The tune is a patient ode to a partner, finding satisfaction in the small stuff: "We know when it's enough to be walking with you,” they sing. Their voices fit together so uncannily that it's like each was made to sing with the other.
Only one of Love Letter for Fire's songs stumbles: the plunking, pointed "Chalk It Up to Chi.” Compared to the elegance of its counterparts, "Chalk It Up to Chi” feels clunky and cartoonish, especially with Hoop's exaggerated English affectation. The rest of the record is so pretty that it teeters on the edge of precious, but fortunately, this is the only one of thirteen tracks that falls over the edge. Instead of a love letter to consuming blazes, Hoop's and Beam's collection appeals to our individual internal pilot lights: those softly smoldering flames that illuminate moments of beauty in ourselves, in each other, and beyond.
