M. Ward- _A Wasteland Companion_ -3.5 stars out of 5
Ever the consummate troubadour, singer-songwriter Matt Ward has been kicking around for more than a decade, as wandering and multi-faceted as the characters he sings about. In addition to his solo work under the stage name M. Ward, he has also contributed to the supergroups Monsters of Folk and Tired Pony, as well as collaborated with indie and now-TV star Zooey Deschanel. Despite these many ventures, Ward always brings a sense of calm and quiet observance to the proceedings, usually being the whispery conscious in rooms often full of egos. This characteristic exaggerates itself in his solo work, and his latest, _A Wasteland Companion_ is no different; it’s a charming, almost too-relaxed display of acoustic folk that has just enough flashes of excitement and wonderment to make the ease worthwhile.
Even so, _Companion_ is a remarkably laid-back affair, even for a Ward release, mostly paring down the guest appearances and sonic experimentation of his last solo outing, _Hold Time_ in exchange for more introspection and reflection. This approach serves its maker well, but also limits the album’s appeal to a pleasant, self-contained throwaway.
Ward’s approach has always been distinct: His voice is dusty and wry, his delivery slightly lagging behind the beat (this is made all the more charming by his precise and distinct guitar plucking style). Indeed this style is so potent it’s best when left alone, and _A Wasteland Companion_ shines when it does precisely that. Tracks like “There’s a Key” and “Clean Slate” are unadorned and pretty in a beguilingly simple way, little more than Ward’s voice, guitar and some banjo fills. Yet his plainspoken imagery and compositional simplicity are winning. This approach is made all the more charming with some subtle sonic shadings, far from large ones, but additions that elevate Ward’s naturally earthy songs. “The First Time I Ran Away” supplements its pretty melody with some almost-not-there drum backing and a slight electronic tint, giving a gauzy track the sonic impression of a sunset. Just as effectively, bells and strings are tastefully added to “Wild Goose.” These are unobtrusive and tasteful additions, never straying far from the author’s relaxed, slightly wistful melodic approach.
The album’s sleepiness is given some occasional shots in the arm however, usually by the New Girl herself, Ms. Deschanel. Her two duet tracks, “Me and My Shadow” and “Sweetheart” are given the full treatment, with bass, electric and drums all thrown onto some of the quicker tempos on the album. They work in giving life to the album’s flow, particularly the latter, which capitalizes on Deschanel’s “aw shucks,” winsome vocal work to make a charming and slightly goofy back-and-forth. Her contributions are appreciated but un-showy, just the kind of work Ward appreciates.
Elsewhere, however, the method of adding sonic embellishments seems a little forced. The album is a bit too sleepy and long to begin with, and the production work sometimes detracts from the charming simplicity of Ward’s compositions. The title track spoils an actually very pretty melody with a bizarre coda of audience noise and gloomy electronic textures. Overall though, Ward’s work is a little too consistent, and though his brevity is seen on individual tracks, the album as a whole is leisurely and mellow, allowing just enough mixup to peak through the surface. Its charm lies in the fact that Ward seems to like it this way, and his approach gives _Wasteland Companion_ a definite presence (if not a voice) for listeners to latch on to.
“Pure Joy” is a quiet little closer, Ward’s sweet ode to a reunited love, and its vibe and technique speak of the album as a whole. Amiable, observant and given a vague sheen of Americana and folk, _Wasteland Companion_ serves to give a glimpse of a writer whose style can’t be concretely tracked down but can carry an entire album, if not completely elevate it. But at this point, Ward has little to prove to anyone, and the lazy afternoon this album provides is a wonderful, if slight, glimpse at his talents.