She's a cute actress with displayed musical
talent, committing her voice to record in spite of the known
punchline-precedents. He's a studio brat with a taste for archaic American song
forms. Together, though, Zooey Deschanel and M. Ward are better matched than
their lousy grammar would imply; Deschanel's songs are mostly homages to
early-'60s girl-pop, which suits Ward's retro agenda just fine. What she lacks
in nuance and sheer wind power, she makes up for with plainspoken confidence as
she belts out all the old tropes: riding alone on a bicycle built for two,
passively-aggressively telling a lover to leave her alone, and so on. The real
focus is on the cozy vibe Ward and Deschanel build together without becoming
cloying. She multi-tracks and forms her own one-woman girl group; he piles on
mini-Spector drums and other tricks to give the songs a '60s sound to go with
the structure. A few covers flesh out their game, particularly a lazy
Hawaiian-guitar take on "I Should Have Known Better" that gives the Beatles chestnut
more space to breathe. The overall effect is an endearing, successful addition
to Ward's never-ending quest to assimilate every single populist song form of
the 20th century.