M. Ward Albums (6)
What The Critics Say
M. Ward's fifth proper album begins appropriately with the lyric "When you're absolute beginners, it's a panoramic view," a notion that the dusty Portland, OR-based singer/songwriter must be nostalgic for as his profile increases with each and every project. His 2008 collaboration with actress/singer/songwriter Zooey Deschanel as the producer, player, and arranger of She & Him helped to let the rest of the world in on what the low-key folk underground has been savoring since 2001's End of Amnesia. His penchant for sun-drenched West Coast vistas and timeless narratives that revel in Tom Waits-inspired Americana and non-dogmatic spirituality come full circle on Hold Time, a typical Matt Ward collection of laconic summer songs that could have safely appeared in any decade without suspicion of origin. Similar in scope to 2006's Post-War, Hold Time feels like a single performance, with songs fading out within inches of their successors, often holding true to both instrumentation and theme. Ward populates the project with a handful of guest appearances, though none gratuitous. Deschanel returns the favor on two cuts, a languid cover of the Buddy Holly classic "Rave On" and "Never Had Nobody Like You," a straight-up blues-rocker that fuses a Gary Glitter backbeat to the skeleton of Post-War nugget "Requiem"; Grandaddy mastermind Jason Lytle helps turn "To Save Me" into a lost ELO-produced Beach Boys rarity; and Lucinda Williams lends her sweetly graveled pipes to a lovely, expansive version of the Don Gibson weeper "Oh Lonesome Me." As always, Ward peppers the record with originals that sound like long-lost Hank Williams tunes ("One Hundred Million Years" and "Shangri-La") and lush ballads that sound like they crawled out of an old safe deposit box. The title track in particular brings to mind Ward's English equal, ex-Pulp guitarist and ultra-cool retro-crooner Richard Hawley -- between the two of them, they've built a bridge between indie and adult alternative rock that positively reeks of class. Hold Time will do little to entice listeners for whom Matt Ward's sepia-tone charm holds no sway, but for fans who have enjoyed the ride thus far, this looks like the sunniest stretch of road yet. ~ James Christopher Monger, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Laconic California indie minstrel M. Ward's fifth offering is a thrift shop photo album filled with histories that may or may not have been, dust bowl carnival rides, and slices of sunlit Western Americana so thick that you need a broom to sweep up the bits that fall off of the knife. Ward makes records that sound like he just wandered in off the street with a few friends and hit the record button, but what would feel lazy and unfocused in less confident hands comes off like a tutorial in old-school songwriting and performance that hearkens back to the days of Hank Williams and Leadbelly if they had had access to a modern-day studio. Post-War is not only Ward's best effort yet, it's one of the best records of the year. While his distinctive half-second-delay drawl assumes its usual position as the ghostly broadcast from a more sepia-toned time, the production is far grander than on his previous outings. Opener "Poison Cup," sounding for what it's worth like a cross between the Walker Brothers' "Sun Ain't Gonna Shine Anymore" and an outtake from Dennis Wilson's Pacific Ocean Blue, kicks things off with sneaky keyboard strings that fade into the real deal, reaching elegiac heights by the diminutive track's end. A catchy cover of Daniel Johnston's "To Go Home" features guest vocalist Neko Case breathing fire into the choruses with her trademark howl, the rowdy "Requiem" sounds like a Tom Waits version of Queen's "Fat Bottomed Girls," and the peerless "Magic Trick," with its brilliant refrain of "She's got one magic trick/just one and that's it/she disappears," kicks off a suite of tunes that snake their way through to the album's end like a shot of Apple Jack. Like early Pavement, Ward knows how to make sloppy sound succinct, and it's that magic mix of earnestness and apathy that makes Post-War the secret bounty that it is. ~ James Christopher Monger, All Music Guide
'Transistor Radio'
Release Date 1/1/2005
Tracks 16
Label EMI Australia
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Listening to M. Ward's breezy ode to radio's forgotten heydays is a lot like taking in a huge breath of dust-bowl wind -- however, its charms are rooted in the hazy lemonade-sipping of summer rather than the great depression-obsession of the post-O Brother, Where Art Thou? mainstream. Ward's voice is a slap-delayed pastiche of Ron Sexsmith's easygoing croon and Andrew Bird's closed-mouth drawl, and like his front-porch fingerpicking, it's as effortless as it is effective. Transistor Radio begins with a lovely instrumental version of the Pet Sounds classic "You Still Believe in Me," then drops the needle on "One Life Away," a lo-fi shout-out to the radio towers of old that centers around the sly and condemning lines "To all the people in the ground/Listening to the sound of the living people walking up and down the graves/Well one of them is mine/I'm visiting my fräulein/She's only one breath away." Many have used the "fake old 78" approach before, but in Ward's hands it sounds truly genuine, and his falsetto harmonizing is as spooky as the song is sweet. While the rest of Radio plays out like a sequel to 2003's excellent Transfiguration of Vincent, with standout cuts like "Sweethearts On Parade," "Hi-Fi," and "Paul's Song" echoing that record's marvelous title track ("Vincent O'Brien"), there's a subtle optimism at work here that was only hinted at on previous recordings, and by the time he wraps the whole thing up with a gorgeous rendition of J.S. Bach's "The Well-Tempered Clavier," it's become apparent which fork in the road this eccentric troubadour has chosen, and it's generously dotted with pregnant storm clouds. ~ James Christopher Monger, All Music Guide
'Transfiguration of Vincent'
Release Date 1/1/2003
Tracks 15
Label EMI Australia
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
M. Ward's Transfiguration of Vincent is nothing less than spectacular. From the buoyant, late-Beatlesque "Vincent O'Brien" to the dank, shuffling, south of the border groove on "Sad, Sad Song," the troubadour manages to capture a timeless folkiness and match it with a surreal and sparkling sense of nostalgia that clearly echoes Tom Waits. Recorded with the Old Joe Clarks as the backup band, Transfiguration is rooted firmly in old-time Americana, yet M. Ward's take on country and particularly his vocals somehow fit perfectly with Giant Sand, Sparklehorse, and California's surreal, pastoral psych-pop outfit Grandaddy (whose Jason Lytle contributed some field recordings). Just check M. Ward's stunning transformation of Bowie's "Let's Dance," which proves there's some deeply buried pop beneath these honest folk tunes. Transfiguration is a quiet record and might lose some listeners in it's sleepy summer melancholy, but M. Ward is the real deal -- and he's surely worthy of heaps of attention and acclaim. ~ Charles Spano, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Originally released in 1999, M. Ward's debut is a sparse, mostly live affair recorded with pal and engineer Adam Selzer of Norfolk & Western at Type Foundry Studio in Portland, OR. Listeners who are already accustomed to Ward's breathy, conversational vocal delivery and soft-picked, West Coast Americana melodies will find much to love here, while those looking for good entry point should probably start with one of his later albums. Duet for Guitars #2 is peppered with instrumentals in the John Fahey and Bad Timing-era Jim O'Rourke vein, and Ward's lackadaisical picking sounds just as lazily precise here as it does on future recordings. There's a real warmth to the sessions that transcends the often bare-bones production. For the most part, it sound like most takes were done live with two microphones, with the occasional overdub, and that style suits Ward's dreamy tales of molasses-slow teenage summers ("Beautiful Car") and oddball parables like "Fishing Boat Sons." It's also interesting to hear him shedding the inflections of some of his more obvious heroes like Neil Young ("Who May Be Lazy") and Bob Dylan ("It Won't Happen Twice"). Duet for Guitars #2 sounds like a debut. It's got some filler and it tips to the lo-fi end of the scale more often than not, but it's brimming over with promise and timelessness. ~ James Christopher Monger, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
M.Ward's second solo enterprise verifies the artist as one of those few songwriters who stand between the cracks of time, where he spins a hallucinatory, new universe out of old-world roots. Indeed, there's a real down-home, unpolished luster to End of Amnesia, both in execution and in songwriting, that gives it a timeless, old-fashioned pallor. And yet there's also something just slightly off in the songs, a strange, disembodied quality that seems to come at least partly from an ulterior place, be it real or imagined. That attribute is precisely what gives the music such a singular, distinctive sound and vision. Ward comes off like a sort of one-man the Band with nothing but a beat-up guitar and his sepia croak of a voice. His acoustic guitar playing has the kind of impressive, gutsy virtuosity of Stephen Stills, while the music is part folk-blues à la Townes Van Zandt and part deep Appalachian pallidness, with a dash of Tin Pan Alley thrown in via the odd foot stomp or honky tonk piano run. Musicianship is superb, and as stark as the instrumentation is, there is first and foremost a special quality of songwriting that results in acoustic instrumentals (the drone-like title track, the wistful "Psalm") or nearly instrumental ballads (the gauzy, sunlike picking of "Color of Water"). The songs can be unsparing in their desolation, sound-wise if not necessarily in their worldview, although there is certainly a sense of loss present throughout. One gets the feeling, however, that the mood is less a product of a personal feeling than it is a personal perspective of a vanishing era of song, one free of commercial constraint, marketing, or trend. And yet the songs aren't long glances backward so much as they are outgrowths, seedlings from a great old uprooted tree trying to recapture some of the biblical grandeur that has wilted away, some of the lost importance, trying to refill a shadow that's no longer there. The album is a keeper, pure, simple, and unaffected but certainly not unaffecting. ~ Stanton Swihart, All Music Guide
