In Tsarist Russia, a doctor in a provincial hospital encounters a former student in the mental ward and he harbors a fascination with his rebellious patient. The doctor believes that he is intellectually superior to everyone except for this political prisoner. Listening to his patient, the doctor develops a new view of reality, much to the displeasure of his colleagues. Ward 6 is a metaphor on life under repressive governments, conformity versus individual expression.
Five inmates in a medical ward, with no memories of their past, try to figure out who they are and where they came from. When one of them, who they believed to be dead, returns looking healthier then ever, they realize they are merely puppets in a strange experiment. Their only hope, escape.
M. Ward's latest is a rough-cut Americana diamond, one crafted not simply from folk and bluegrass but also 50s AM radio, the saloon cabaret of studio-era Hollywood, and good old-fashioned indie rock. It's artists like M. Ward who make me contemplate why I write about music. I get my skin tingling to the acoustic guitars and I'm just thinking "Jesus, is this what it's about?" I'm trying to put the feeling this music gives me into words in an attempt to understand it, to convey how great it is and why, and maybe convince you that it's worth your cash or your bandwidth, and it occurs to me that I'm unsure why I do it– why I need to do it– and that, in the end, it's because I'm enjoying this and I want you to enjoy it, too.
To describe saxophonist Greg Ward's Touch My Beloved's Thought as his magnum opus is to impede his development as a composer. Let's just say for many a jazz artist, if this recording were included in their discography, it would be their signature piece. For Ward, it just represents the possibilities.
With his static-dusted voice and predilection for early rock antiquity, M. Ward has always come across as one of his generation's more understated bards. Interpreting the ever-deepening subtleties of his catalog generally requires repeated listens, and such is the case with his ninth solo effort, the appropriately moody More Rain. Easing in with a minute-long rainstorm soundscape, he leads off with the dreamy acoustic gallop of "Pirate Dial," a genial folk-pop hymn perfectly suited for the patient rotations of a vinyl long-player. A stuttering guitar groove on the Neko Case-aided "Time Won't Wait" quickens the album's pulse, setting up the similarly paced lead single, "Confession," a classic Ward track replete with a rich vein of warm backing vocals and soaring trumpet solo.
Ward One: Along the Way is the debut solo album from Black Sabbath drummer Bill Ward. Originally released January 10, 1990, and features a wide array of guest musicians, including then-former Black Sabbath band member Ozzy Osbourne.
Learn the essentials of ITIL® 2011 Foundations from trainer Chris Ward. This course is aimed at large IT departments.