M. Ward
September 28, 2006 – The Henry Fonda Theatre, Hollywood, Ca

    Fresh on the heels of the release of Post-War, M. Ward’s fifth full-length album, Matt and his band (including drummer Rachel Blumberg, formerly of The Decemberists) showed up in LA ready to folk-rock the asses off everyone in the house; that they left the stage having played barely a fourth of Matt’s catalog, crowd drooling for more, is a testament to the promise of a career that M. Ward seems to only have barely embarked on.
    Armed with a variety of hollow-body electric guitars, a small piano, and a trusty acoustic, Matt led the room on a musical odyssey, opening with his ultra-tender rendition of David Bowie’s “Let’s Dance” and moving into his own new hit “Chinese Translation.” However, while the initial songs in the setlist were performed well, it was not until the band mined a track from an older album, “Flaming Heart,” that they really started to cohere and find that next level. From then on, everyone in the room was on the same page, and it felt good. Crisp acoustic tones blended seamlessly with electric riffs, backed by amazing drumming and rich bass lines that blurred all sense of genre. However, each song had a distinct personality, and Matt and his band had the sense to select virtually equally from all his albums; while everyone had some favorites that weren’t performed, nobody could say that the band neglected their personal tastes entirely. For the encore, Matt first came out alone, ferociously and precisely playing a series of his instrumental numbers, showcasing his individual musical talent, before being joined by the rest of his group for the final songs. The crowd was so pumped and I was so impressed that by the end of the show I wanted to rush outside and spray-paint “M. Ward is God” on the nearest wall.
    Matt seems to have tapped a new source of energy; the songs that once pleasingly drifted along now gallop and rattle. While he still remains attuned to the pulse of folk music’s traditions, he also has given his music a pulse of its own, one that is a step beyond what his precursors ever dreamed of. Of course, Matt’s still got his gentle demeanor, demonstrated often as he, from under the bill of his baseball cap, responded to the crowd’s cheers with a meek “thanks a lot.” Um, no, Matt, thank you.

-Evan Pitchford