Happy Accidents and Mysteries
M. Ward's timeless music still keeps impeccable timing
2003-09-04
When Conor Oberst scooped up the relatively unknown M. Ward as an opening act
for the 2002 Bright Eyes Orchestra Tour, most audiences had never heard of the
mysterious Portland-based songwriter. Ward is not by any means a household name,
but this obscurity lends to his advantage. Part of his magnetism lies in his
mystery.
After cutting his teeth with the San Luis Obispo-based Rodriguez, he cut loose
and developed a style steeped in the traditions of American folk, country and
blues, conjuring the smells of sawdust, mold and moonshine with simple, grainy,
magnificent songs and a roughly whispered, smoky voice.
Presently nearing the end of a month-long tour with Saddle Creek’s Rilo
Kiley for his third release, Transfiguration of Vincent (Merge), I
caught up with Matt Ward (who changed his performing moniker because of another
artist by the same name) at a hotel in Tucson, Arizona; Howe Gelb country. Gelb,
the former Giant Sand frontman originally caught wind of Ward’s songcraft
through a mutual friend and released Ward’s first album, Duet For
Guitar #2 on his own Ow Om label. Now on his third album, Ward’s
timeless tales and experimental, ambiguous tones have cemented themselves as
facets of his unique and captivating sound.
Transfiguration of Vincent’s title is in reference to a whimsical
and idiosyncratic character first explored on Ward’s 2001 release, End
of Amnesia (Future Farmer), though Ward is reluctant to delve too much
into what makes this character so intriguing to him. Rather, he prefers to let
Vincent O’Brien’s story rest in the metaphors and melodies of the
songs dedicated to him. The mystery is part of the magic, and though Ward is
comfortable speaking on other subjects, Vincent’s story will remain shrouded.
I’ve read some other interviews with you where it seemed like
you’re kinda reluctant to talk about Vincent O’Brien.
There’s a lot of things I’m afraid of over-sharing. As far as that
one goes, I’ve just been explaining that it’s the same character
that was on the second record [2001’s End of Amnesia]. People
ask me about him and I thought the best way to flesh him out is to keep him
in the music, and that’s what I’ve figured out for doing for this
new record too.
In “O’Brien/O’Brien’s Nocturne” [off
of End of Amnesia] there’s one line in it that I always thought was
one of the coolest descriptions of a guitar. It was something along the lines
of “It says Sears down the neck, had a little blood stain on the second
fret, but it still keeps impeccable time.” That always stood out to me.
I like that song, I think it turned out okay. People seem to have an interesting
reaction to that one, they wanted to know more, so this newer song, “Vincent
O’Brien” is, I guess, me looking back on that song and painting
a picture from the same source.
So you’re performing with a backing band on this tour?
Yeah, Rilo Kiley is playing with me on this tour. This one’s ending in
LA, but I’m playing a show in San Francisco, actually on Monday.
How has it been touring with Rilo Kiley?
Really great, really amazing. They’re great musicians, they have a lot
of energy. They have a really interesting chemistry, as do all bands, but I
think theirs is really strong, so it makes it easy to plug in new songs with
them. Wind them up and they go, it’s great.
How is it that you came to know Howe Gelb?
Through a mutual friend in Jason [Lytle] from Grandaddy. Jason passed
over some of my early tapes to him, and then I met Howe in Seattle, gave him
a rough copy of my first record. He called me back saying it was interesting
and he wanted to try to work together on it, so he took me on my first tour
of Europe, my first American tour also. He’s been amazing.
Can you compare the differences between working with a band —
playing with Rodriguez — and your work as a solo artist?
For recording, mostly what I do is work with the engineer, and the engineer
doubles as my percussionist. But live, most of the time I’ve been playing
with a new band each tour. For the last couple years, I’ve been really
fortunate that every band that’s invited me on tour has also acted as
my backing band, so that keeps things really interesting for me. As far as the
studio goes, the only thing that I’m really experienced in is experimenting
with instruments and microphones with the engineer and myself. I’ve never
brought in a full band. Generally I’m working solo and it’s a matter
of imitating what goes on when I’m four-tracking, which is how I first
started recording. In a lot of ways it’s a matter of turning a 16-track
studio into the feel of a four-track. That means just a very minimal amount
of people in the studio.
Your tonal palette is really interesting with the Tin Pan Alley-toned
piano and the gramophone-sounding samples, the graininess that creates a bit
of chaos and discord, but still somehow works beautifully. How did you develop
it?
Let’s see…I would say 99 percent of all developments are happy accidents.
In the studio you can open the door for mistakes that lead to chaos, and that’s
usually the thing that makes a song surprising, even though you wrote the song.
If you include those X-factors, then the song becomes more important for me…if
that makes any sense. Then it becomes standard operating procedure, I guess.
Slowly, it becomes a style, even though you’re not really out to find
that, it just sort of happens. There’s a lot of mystery in the whole process;
I don’t really understand it…but I try my best in interviews [laughs].