Hold Time

Ward’s tone is never patronising in the sense that he is telling us to live every moment like it counts but rather offering the humble truth that beauty is found in the daily blurring of life, in the simple passing of time.

This is music that can reach anyone from a performer that could be, amazingly enough, just hitting his stride.

Matt Ward simply carries on making his music, and (seven albums on) an ever-dedicated select few carry on loving it.

Hold Time will do little to entice listeners for whom Matt Ward's sepia-tone charm holds no sway, but for fans who have enjoyed the ride thus far, this looks like the sunniest stretch of road yet.

He takes in all the beauty he can, remembers his faith, then pens gorgeous music.

In any case, it’s also a reminder that the music here speaks for itself, whatever else Ward might be trying to say through it.

Behind the flourishes, Ward sounds as moony as ever, singing beautifully sad songs about mortality and feeling lonesome.

It takes a minute for the standouts here to stand out, but it’s an enjoyable wait.

Matt Ward is no longer at the point in his career where you devote an entire album to the memory of an obscure folk guitar hero. The Portland-based singer, songwriter, and accomplished guitar player is enjoying his highest level of mainstream recognition yet, thanks in no small part to a fine, comfortingly nostalgic collaboration with actress Zooey Deschanel last year as She & Him. He has shared stages with Norah Jones, Jenny Lewis, Bright Eyes, and My Morning Jacket. During the presidential primary season, he played a benefit show for Barack Obama.

Ward hasn’t written an offensively bad song to date, which makes Hold Time easier to accept, but it’s starting to show that the dude’s got a lot on his plate.

Sure, long time fans and admirers will stay appeased with Hold Time but newcomers should perhaps investigate his earlier output for a richer M. Ward experience.

Hold Time simply fills the quota Ward’s assigned himself and, (im)properly slaked, poofs off, contrails the last reminder that, yes, Jason Lytle’s still alive.

Although it’s not strictly a case of the musician spinning his wheels or stalling for time, the album doesn’t find Ward straying far from his comfort zone. It’s a reliable, steady album, and in this case that’s mostly a drawback.