In hindsight, it is a miracle that Ward White managed to finish his Ward White Is The Matador album. The recording sessions were fraught with discontent, involving plenty of shouting matches and slamming doors. Tempers flared between the noir crooner and his tandem of producers, Graham Norwood and Bryan Scary. The latter wrote choice liner notes for the 10th anniversary edition of the album: "The press might aptly compare Ward to Scott Walker, but I wanted more meat percussion and distorted farts. I believe we largely succeeded, though at the time I did want the record to read even MORE disturbed. This led us to some creative clashes, collisions that have now been driven under the bridge and washed out into the haze of yesteryears." Long story short: apparently White wanted a smoother sound and his producers held out for something more raucous. In the end, neither party could claim victory, but, ironically, the album itself became the winner: smoothness and rawness working in tandem to create something truly remarkable.
Ward White Is The Matador is a collection of snapshots of life in the Big Apple. People love, people hate, people get in trouble, people get laid, people get killed. He is a chronicler with a sharp eye (and sharp wit) who can don the costume of a hardboiled cop (Reprieve), a pleading lover (Chiquita, I'll Make It Up To You) or a night owl chatting up girls in the subway (The Olde Days). His suave vocal delivery packs a punch, using beauty to say something that people don't want to hear. Crooners are not known for going in at the deep end, but White's lyrical depth enables him to be a chronicler, a roving, well-read reporter. It is up to the listener to figure out if he is tapping into his own his life or a bystander at the scene, which might be entirely fictitious, but still comes across as very real indeed.
