Reviewers instinctually jump for the experimental, the shocking and the controversial. Albums that are either heart-stopping masterpieces or cringe inducing failures are what the humble music reviewer dreams of. They want something to either praise to high heaven or crush into the ground. Sadly, M. Ward’s A Wasteland Companion isn’t one of those albums. The singer-songwriters seventh album is one of quiet crooning and contemplative guitar plucking, and it fails to get anywhere extremely enjoyable or wholly detestable. The first two songs of the album demonstrate the good and the bad.