Word: ward
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...Ward structured his set according to the Golden Rock Concert Ratio, playing three quarters of the album he was promoting, parsing in favorites from older albums at just the right moments, and combining invention with devotion in such a way that each familiar song was at once recognizable and intellectually engaging as a new work...
...didn’t unravel the intimacy of his words with overstuffed sound. While the solid backbeat dissolved the illusion that Ward’s songs were quiet confessions (except for the beautiful “I’ll Be Yr Bird,” which Ward performed in the encore before his band joined him), this did less to depersonalize the songs than it did to distance Ward from whisperer-confessors like Sam Beam of Iron & Wine...
Indeed, if Ward proved anything at the Somerville Theatre, it was his versatility. Like the vaudeville-era performers with whom he seems secretly fascinated, he wore many masks and played many roles, going from an impressive acoustic jam (both hands slapping and sliding the entire length of the fretboard), to the Sparklehorse-inspired trembling of “I’ll Be Yr Bird.” Across the entire spectrum, loud or quiet, there is a sense of familiarity with Ward, and it is a comfort that transcends the stories and sounds of his songs. It?...
...heard about Jim, who apparently delivered McDonald's shakes and burgers several times a week. He was one of the angels of Ward 57, a special breed of patrons who brightened up a day otherwise filled with surgery, needles, bad food and pain. The angels usually arrived in the quiet times. Doctors weren't making the rounds. Metal meal wagons had stopped clanking, the traffic of institutional do-gooders from the Red Cross and veterans' groups temporarily halted...
...will be $5. Bless you." But he mainly used treats to break the ice. After a couple of shakes, amputees were asking questions of the man who walked on two fake legs and worked for the U.S. Department of Veteran Affairs. He was living proof there was life after Ward...