david ward

Mentioned earlier this very missive when we touched upon the albums opening cut ‘slowly through the night’. due out towards the tail end of February via golden future recordings will find the arrival of a most extraordinary release by David Ward entitled ‘golden future time’. we say extraordinary not for effect but mainly to make note that this is an album crafted such as to refuse to sit still in any easily confined generic box. Seven tracks make up the two side long suites entitled ‘lost’ and ‘golden future time’ in just one listen its immediately apparent that the measured beauty explored and instilled within this second full length reveals an astute aural alchemy at work whose depth, poise and realisation of craft is simply exquisite. As previously reported opening salvo ‘slowly through the night’ is a monumental shape shifting prog head sprayed in an angular cosmic funk grooving that really does sound like the resulting offspring of a studio summit meeting between an ‘ok computer’ era Radiohead and Porcupine Tree in their finest ‘the incident’ garb. ‘lost’ drops the tone and mood to more smoked sophisticated levels for lights lowered night time seduction, exquisite soul groove that much recalls the Panda Gang as were at the height of their powers though here dimpled in a sumptuous panoramic appeal that hints towards a stoned and blissed out Floyd. From therein something cultured in a fragile elegance comes to pass, with its falsettos, classicist atmospheric arcs and softly coaxed lullaby lilts, the ghostly mysterio that is the spell weaving enchantment of ‘ghost in the woods’ is wrapped in a fairytale vintage more becoming of ooberman successors the magic theatre while the softly traced key tremble of the aching ‘be here’ wraps up side 1 to the frail forlorn sigh of melancholic torch murmurs. ‘opening side 2 the sly seductive and jiggy funk fancy ‘golden future time’ is lushly rubbed in 70’s disco soul motifs whilst ‘bird in the hand’ should find itself the centre of admiring glances from those who love their ballads smoked in nocturnal noir with a side smidgeon of jazz flavouring for good measure while ‘fly’ is a less edgy sultry laser loaded cosmic grooved Rick James fronting the Jacksons.

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