Blog: Dots & Dashes

Unaccompanied and in amongst Feist's trinkets and cloaks stands M. Ward . In bootcuts and dusty old boots he's perhaps the most casual bod of all in a Royal Albert Hall rammed to the rafters and such insouciance is instantly transcribed to performance as a quite sublime solo seeps out from weathered Gibson. 2012 being the year of the dragon, it slithers into the fine noodles and romping stomp of Chinese Translation for which Ward's voice resides at the back of his throat, cowering behind quivering tonsils from the omnipresent bright lights that strike him from every angle. [...]