By the time Saturday night rolls around, when the sun has gone down and every performer from Ladybug’s 2018 two-day lineup has wrapped up their sets and struck their stages, only one voice will remain. It’s a is a singular, unique voice. A crackling, nuanced rock voice of steel wool and Old Bay, with a healthy dose of attitude and even more talent behind it; seemingly fragile, yet magnificently resilient: Lauren Ruth Ward.
There’s some familiarity to it, and maybe you hear strains of Halsey, Florence or even Alessia Cara, which is fine. Those are all strong and capable singers who deliver powerful messages of empowerment and self confidence.
Despite making it in front of the celebrity judges on reality talent show The Voice in 2012 (she didn’t make it past that stage, though), Ward’s talent doesn’t begin or end with just her voice. Sure, she’s got some range and more than an ample supply of dynamics. She’s the type of singer who get a lot of mileage out of her vocabularry just by curling a vowell slightly, stretching out a syllable long past its expiration date or cramming so many words into a single verse she could double as the new face of Micro Machines’ ad campaigns.
And all this would be wasted if it weren’t for her deftness with writing a song. On her 2018 debut, Well, Hell, Ward covers some impressive sonic territory. Opener “Staff Only” gets things started in an understated fashion, slowly establishing a baseline mood with impressions of life via different relationships and each others’ expectations.
Soon after though, it’s a sonic smorgasboard. “Sideways” kicks in the 4/4 beat almost instantly. With its Modern Lovers-like strum and foot-stomp it nearly veers towards Courtney Barnett territory until the chorus comes around to remind us of Ward’s own vocal talents. “Those Letters” returns to a more dulcet tone evoking a little My Morning Jacket with its finger picks and tumbling snare before “Make Love to Myself”, an organ-lined conventional mid-tempo pop-rock number that showcases the multi-instrumental approach Ward is willing to take.
From there the album takes a turn for the psychedelic with the fuzzed out and anthemic “Blue Collar Sex Kitten”, a commentary on sexuality and the compromises we make to feel like we fit in. Ward, herself a proudly open homosexual and a vocal supporter of LGBT rights. When she screams “I’m a dyke, dated guys, ain’t a crime, won’t apologize for my tribe,” it’s nearly impossible to not pump your fist with pride in her openness and her refusal to be pigeonholed.
Elsewhere, a little twang and country shows up (“Sheet Stains”), and the breathy and Jim Jamesian “Did I Offend You”, coupled with its chorus of “You’re only breaking down” could either be the best anti-music industry song since “Frankly Mr. Shankly” or “Fox in the Snow”, or a cautionary tale of substance abuse. Either fits perfectly for me.
Ward showcases her own talents alone on “Travel Man”, an all too familiar tale of being lied to and taken advantage of. Sparse and acoustic, the immediacy of the subject matter is hefty weight indeed, made all more immediate by the closeness we feel as an audience of one.
Lauren Ruth Ward has come a long way since her fateful audition in front of childhood hero Christina Aguilera. Since then, Aguilera has teamed up with fellow Voice judge Blake Shelton to sing one of Ward’s songs (“Just a Fool”). An outspoken champion of individuality from a small town outside Baltimore, by way of Los Angeles, who calls herself The Lizard Queen, Ward and company are known to turn on the afterburners for their live shows.
Her band has been playing together since 2016, and her co-writer and guitarist Eduardo Rivera has been the perfect foil for her East Coast brand of rock n roll, each other acting as the foil for their own influences: Ward’s classic rock homages and Rivera’s post-rock and krautrock reverences. And her rhythm section, drummer India Pascucci and bassist Livia Slingerland, lay down the perfect stomping groove for everyone to ride.
The titular “Well, Hell” finishes things up on the new record, a Strokes-like mission statement from Ward and crew. “I didn’t mean to make your head spin/I have a lot to say,” she cautions, but not without first advising us that “I walk fast I talk fast, you better listen fast, or you get left behind.”
Well folks, if you aren’t in Downtown Wilmington, Del., on Saturday night for The Ladybug Music Festival, you can expect to be left behind.