Big
Time Pop, Lea Krueger, M. Ward
Satyricon
125 NW 6th
Ave., 243-2380
10 pm Friday,
Aug. 11
Cover
The band Ward
is taking to Europe features Adam Selzer on drums and Mark
Leece
on bass.
"I totally like the place I'm at right now."
Matt Ward is talking about the pressure-free pace of his
current recording schedule. But as he sips a pint at Beulahland
on a perfect summer evening, the low-key singer/songwriter
could just as easily be reflecting on other aspects of his
seemingly charmed life.
There's his contentment since moving to Portland a year
ago. There's the recent release of his debut album on Ow
Om, pet indie label of Howe Gelb, the legendary leader of
Giant Sand. And, of course, there are the two European record
deals and a tour of the Continent planned for this autumn,
not to mention contributions to forthcoming compilations
paying tribute to Mark Eitzel and--yeah, that's right--Bach.
Things are going especially well for Ward (who plays as
M. Ward), but he's not shouting from rooftops about it.
To the contrary, the 26-year-old downplays everything in
a hushed tone that makes you lean in closer, especially
when neighboring patrons raise their voices, blenders whir
and a cranky kid starts wailing nearby.
Ward's debut release, Duet For Guitars #2, is as
understated as his conversational style. Most of the dozen
songs he recorded at Type Foundry in Southeast Portland
are stripped-down tales, delivered with Ward's sometimes
uncannily Neil Young-esque vocals and acoustic guitar. The
occasional rollicking number slips in. At times, Ward's
style recalls the more melodic side of Will Oldham, minus
the pretension. Some songs find him reflecting on memories
of youth--real or imagined--and, often at the same time,
exploring themes of God, death and redemption. But the album
is far from being a doom-and-gloom downer.
With wry lyrics and a spirited melody, "Scene from #12,"
Ward's first European single, tells of an irritated apartment
tenant who learns to be careful what he wishes for. The
protagonist in "It Won't Happen Twice" reflects on past
mistakes and personal disaster, yet rises optimistically
from the ashes. The bittersweet "Song from Debby's Stairs"
finds Ward declaring "I know the next life is gonna be a
good life for me." "Good News" is, ironically, perhaps the
most melancholy (and one of the most single-worthy songs)
of all. Contemplative instrumental tracks bookend these
image-rich stories.
Considering Howe Gelb's own low-key folk-rock aesthetic,
his Ow Om label seems a fitting home for Ward, whose influences
range from John Fahey to Central American poets and David
Lynch. Many musicians mail press packets to a slew of labels
in hopes of scoring a deal, but Ward merely stuck a few
copies of his record into the hands of artists he admired.
Passing a rough mix to Gelb at a Giant Sand show in Seattle
in '98 soon led to Gelb's offer to put out the record, making
it Ow Om's second release (Gelb's solo record was the first).
"There was a message on my machine," Ward recalls. "It
was very, um, shocking."
Gelb wasn't the only indie stalwart who took notice. Yo
La Tengo frontman Ira Kaplan, who also got a copy, sent
a letter telling Ward how much he liked the record.
"That kind of made me take it a little more seriously,"
Ward remembers. "It shouldn't matter what other people say,
but still...." After that, Ward and his backing band began
playing more shows. But his early Portland gigs at the Laurelthirst,
Mad Hatter and the like are a far cry from what's in store.
After a couple of local shows, Ward will fly to Brussels
in late September to play a festival called Les Nuits Botanique,
followed by a European press tour in support of Duet,
slated for release there in September. He may also open
for some Giant Sand Euro-shows in October; for certain,
he'll be back on the other side of the pond with a full
band at the end of December.
"It sounds like I do this all the time, but it's actually
pretty weird," Ward admits, referring to what he keeps calling,
nonchalantly, "this Europe thing."
The Ventura County, Calif., native played plenty of far
less cosmopolitan shows as a member of SoCal band Rodriguez.
Grandaddy's Jason Lytle (another of Gelb's faves) and Type
Foundry's Adam Selzer recorded the band's one and only record,
1999's Swing Like a Metronome, even laying down one
track in a Modesto cave. The band garnered some label interest,
but nothing major materialized. Soon, Ward moved to Chicago
and focused on solo material, happily free of industry-related
distractions. Duet was the result.
Ward isn't resting on his laurels now that his record's
out. Alongside the Bach tribute, he's been working on a
track for a Mark Eitzel compilation that will also include
Lambchop, Ida, Steve Wynn, the Willard Grant Conspiracy
and others. Songs for his next record are also in the works.
"It's not a concept album or anything," he explains. "But
I'm striving for something that involves dreams and memory
in some way. I'm definitely taking my time."
The conversation shifts to a discussion of Lucinda Williams,
a current favorite of Ward's. Do undiscovered-yet-beloved
musicians lose some appeal when they make it big? Ward concedes
there's something special about feeling that you're in on
a secret most of the world isn't yet privy to. Anyone who
has heard Ward's own endearing tunes can certainly relate.
Now that the secret of his talent is leaking out, we can
only hope that Ward's art survives intact.
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