M. Ward coming to Somerville

M. Ward will come to the Somerville Theatre on Feb. 29th to introduce the Boston area to his third album, Transfiguration of Vincent.

The album has been warmly received by the press since its release in March and is a mix of different genres - rock, blues, country, and rock. His songs are melancholy and they often have the gritty vocals and uneasy guitar of old-school country.

Ward is able to create a persona that is not as limiting as those of the artist's contemporaries. The strength of M. Ward's latest album means that there will be a fourth presence on stage at the Somerville Theatre - the questionable Vincent from the album's title.

This presence begs the question, who is Vincent anyway, and what process has he undergone? The album's opener, "Transfiguration #1" would seem to say that he is a happy guy, with the song comprised of warm static, cheerful strumming, and what sounds like Jiminy Cricket croaking in the background. By the time the final track, "Transfiguration #2" rolls around, however, the happy fuzziness and reassuring presence of Vincent's conscience have been replaced by bittersweet piano, revealing a darker side.

The contradictory nature of Ward's introspective lyrics combined with his upbeat guitar style gives the album its edge. In "Sad, Sad Song," the narrator's mother imparts the wisdom that "the hardest thing/in the world to do/is find someone/believes in you." The lyrics, which seem to be missing the crucial word "who," combined with the disparity between the overtly morose song title and the cheery guitar plucking, is indicative of M. Ward's complexity.

After a listen, it's obvious that of all M. Ward's musical talents, his strongest is his guitar playing. Songs on Transfiguration of Vincent feature layers upon layers of acoustic plucking overlapping with smoldering electric solos. It should be interesting to see his live show, as even the talented M. Ward will be unable to replicate the four-to-five-guitar-per-song sound of the album.

Despite all Ward's successes on the album, there are still some moments that miss their mark. He has an inclination in songs like "Vincent O'Brien" to slip into an unsettling falsetto. Presumably, the vocals are supposed to mirror the rising guitar, but they end up sounding like "The Barry Gibb Talk Show" from Saturday Night Live.

Another bizarre moment is the presence of "Let's Dance," a cover of the David Bowie hit. By now, you'll know that M. Ward's version can be nowhere near the bouncy disco of Bowie's. Ward is appropriately emotional but the disparity between it and the original make it too disconcerting to truly appreciate.

Uncharacteristically, M. Ward shows a sense of humor on "Poor Boy, Minor Key." The song is as spaghetti-Western-soundtrack as one can get, with the piano playing some kind of ragtime ditty. The final sound in the song is a metallic splat, sounding exactly like chewing tobacco launched into a spittoon. The title itself seems to evoke Western movie sensibilities reminding us that if a character is sad, it is necessary to shift to a gloomier sounding minor key.

After 44 minutes of singing, we still don't know who Vincent is, but we don't need a cowboy's minor key to tell us his emotional state. Ward told us as much in the second song of the album, the appropriately titled "Vincent O'Brien": "He only sings when he's sad/but he's sad all the time/so he sings the whole night through."