PianoBuddies

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Matthew Ward roughly follows the same trail through the forest by hacked Elliott Smith before him: go to Portland, meeting people, playing the guitar. Two roads: one leads to stabbing himself in the chest, the other is for Zooey Deschanel.

But the dilemma implicit in Ward's trips always seem less concerned with self negation than with the demands of the pop star encroaching. Whether it's effectively changing the essence of a man when he became better known as cavorting with ingenues than to spend a career making tuneful, literate pop-folk? Is it fair that he was even asked to choose the path? Probably not, and most artists would shrug off suggestions that people need to choose one thing or another.

However, in "A Wasteland friend" of course it felt like he was answering questions. Yes, tickets are still make it difficult and beautiful music. No "postwar," which feels like he is a ghost locked in space windowed (then) hypothetically post-Iraq us, browse the questions in the dust with His fingertips spirit, but it is the work of illustration, one that put the Ward are varied and varied interests on the flashing display.

He is such a kinetoscope here, short films the song blasting Double-time through the viewfinder. Set-Quick and to the point in more than 36 minutes–share with stroking the traditional beard right off the bat, "clean" pastoral delights take start again fresh. "Everything we are handing back like seeds from the tree of the fugitive," he said, looking forward through the cab lights car down the highway.