Music

Kathleen Edwards: Back to Me

Susan Glen

Kathleen Edwards picks up right where she left off, offering up an album that sometimes drags, but redeems itself with smart lyrics and a winning formula with a track record.


Kathleen Edwards

Back to Me

Label: Rounder
US Release Date: 2005-03-01
UK Release Date: 2005-03-07
Amazon affiliate
Amazon
iTunes

It's hard to feel too sorry for Kathleen Edwards. After all, her 2003 debut album, Failer, earned her nearly unanimous praise in publications ranging from Rolling Stone to The New York Times, and garnered comparisons to some of the big mamas of the alt-country game. She was officially crowned The Next Big Thing when storytellers "One More Song the Radio Won't Like" and "Six O'Clock News" moved from indie radio collections to the listening stations at Tower Records, all at an age when most of us are still nursing undeclared majors and writing poems about navel gazing. Not such a bad gig, all in all.

But as everyone who's ever watched even one episode of Behind the Music can tell you, the pressure to follow up such critically successful albums can be enormous. More than one up-and-comer has succumbed to the music industry machine, sliding from "Best New Artist" to "Where Are They Now" in the fickle span of a single Record Release Tuesday. But not Kathleen Edwards. She simply grabbed her guitar and picked up exactly where Failer left off, releasing Back to Me and extending a well-toned middle finger in the general direction of the infamous "sophomore slump".

This technique is both good and bad for Edwards. On the plus side, it all but guarantees that everyone who swooned over Failer is going to read Back to Me as the second coming. And rightfully so. All the same gritty faces, predictable heartbreaks, and salt-of-the-earth character building that was the mainstay of Edwards' debut is front and center in her second effort as well, to an equal if not greater degree. The gravel roads still crunch, the men still disappoint, and Edwards' redeeming voice is as reliable as a last call fist fight.

But while there is something to be said for the "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" theory of songwriting, the formula highlights a nearly imperceptible musical growth that smacks of a girl resting on her critical laurels, and this is where Edwards gets herself into a bit of trouble. It's not that Back to Me is an unsatisfying listen; quite to the contrary, there are some smashingly rewarding moments on this release. It's just that if you have heard Failer, you're basically heard Back to Me already. Add to that Edwards' fairly limited vocal stylings and somewhat predictable musical arrangements, and you'd be tempted to think that Back to Me was swilling in quick sand.

You'd be wrong. And the reason you'd be wrong is because Kathleen Edwards has a knack for saving her own ass at the most opportune of moments, with her signature one-two lyrical punch. In "What Are You Waiting For", Edwards channels a most precocious Lucinda Williams by singing "You say you like me in your memory / You've got to be fucking kidding me." A master of bitchy deceit, Edwards often sounds a lot sweeter than she really is, proving what any true emotional chameleon already knows: there's just no substitute for the element of surprise when you're trying to put a giant pin prick in some jerk's high-floating balloon. And in "Independent Thief", Edwards is a skillful enough songwriter to plug an otherwise sinking ship with the kind of lyrical maneuvers that manage to be tongue-in-cheek and devastatingly sincere at the same time: when she claims to be "this city's sweet holy thunder", I know I, for one, believe her.

Other stand-out tracks include "Summerlong", the catchiest ode to fair weather romance since John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John risked reputation and venereal disease to sing "Summer Lovin'" in Grease, and "Away", a gorgeous song that works precisely for its stripped down simplicity and lack of fancy production; Eric Heywood's moaning pedal steel is every bit as haunting as Edwards' vocal imperfections when she sings, "memory is a terrible thing / when you use it right." But clearly, the real zinger of Back to Me is its title track, a shit-kickin', boot-stompin' declaration of independence that's not quite as sultry as Lucinda Williams and not quite as vindictive as fellow Canadian Alanis Morrisette, but a hell of a lot more fun than both of 'em. It's enough to make you forgive the lack of trajectory from which the album as a whole suffers, ask the bartender for a fresh bowl of peanuts, and buy a pitcher for the next sorry S.O.B. who happens onto the stool next to you.

Ultimately, Back to Me is a study in raw talent and potential. But it's also a passport to bigger and better things: now that she's conquered the dreaded follow-up album, Edwards has a free pass to play a little bit fast and loose with her songwriting technique, and maybe even try to expand her vocal performance. If she can convince herself that molds, like southern hearts, really were made to be broken, she just might cement a place for herself among the most talented of young roots-rock musicians. And in the meantime, well, if the boot fits...

7

So far J. J. Abrams and Rian Johnson resemble children at play, remaking the films they fell in love with. As an audience, however, we desire a fuller experience.

As recently as the lackluster episodes I-III of the Star Wars saga, the embossed gold logo followed by scrolling prologue text was cause for excitement. In the approach to the release of any of the then new prequel installments, the Twentieth Century Fox fanfare, followed by the Lucas Film logo, teased one's impulsive excitement at a glimpse into the next installment's narrative. Then sat in the movie theatre on the anticipated day of release, the sight and sound of the Twentieth Century Fox fanfare signalled the end of fevered anticipation. Whatever happened to those times? For some of us, is it a product of youth in which age now denies us the ability to lose ourselves within such adolescent pleasure? There's no answer to this question -- only the realisation that this sensation is missing and it has been since the summer of 2005. Star Wars is now a movie to tick off your to-watch list, no longer a spark in the dreary reality of the everyday. The magic has disappeared… Star Wars is spiritually dead.

Keep reading... Show less
6

This has been a remarkable year for shoegaze. If it were only for the re-raising of two central pillars of the initial scene it would still have been enough, but that wasn't even the half of it.

It hardly needs to be said that the last 12 months haven't been everyone's favorite, but it does deserve to be noted that 2017 has been a remarkable year for shoegaze. If it were only for the re-raising of two central pillars of the initial scene it would still have been enough, but that wasn't even the half of it. Other longtime dreamers either reappeared or kept up their recent hot streaks, and a number of relative newcomers established their place in what has become one of the more robust rock subgenre subcultures out there.

Keep reading... Show less
Theatre

​'The Ferryman': Ephemeral Ideas, Eternal Tragedies

The current cast of The Ferryman in London's West End. Photo by Johan Persson. (Courtesy of The Corner Shop)

Staggeringly multi-layered, dangerously fast-paced and rich in characterizations, dialogue and context, Jez Butterworth's new hit about a family during the time of Ireland's the Troubles leaves the audience breathless, sweaty and tearful, in a nightmarish, dry-heaving haze.

"Vanishing. It's a powerful word, that"

Northern Ireland, Rural Derry, 1981, nighttime. The local ringleader of the Irish Republican Army gun-toting comrades ambushes a priest and tells him that the body of one Seamus Carney has been recovered. It is said that the man had spent a full ten years rotting in a bog. The IRA gunslinger, Muldoon, orders the priest to arrange for the Carney family not to utter a word of what had happened to the wretched man.

Keep reading... Show less
10

Aaron Sorkin's real-life twister about Molly Bloom, an Olympic skier turned high-stakes poker wrangler, is scorchingly fun but never takes its heroine as seriously as the men.

Chances are, we will never see a heartwarming Aaron Sorkin movie about somebody with a learning disability or severe handicap they had to overcome. This is for the best. The most caffeinated major American screenwriter, Sorkin only seems to find his voice when inhabiting a frantically energetic persona whose thoughts outrun their ability to verbalize and emote them. The start of his latest movie, Molly's Game, is so resolutely Sorkin-esque that it's almost a self-parody. Only this time, like most of his better work, it's based on a true story.

Keep reading... Show less
7

There's something characteristically English about the Royal Society, whereby strangers gather under the aegis of some shared interest to read, study, and form friendships and in which they are implicitly agreed to exist insulated and apart from political differences.

There is an amusing detail in The Curious World of Samuel Pepys and John Evelyn that is emblematic of the kind of intellectual passions that animated the educated elite of late 17th-century England. We learn that Henry Oldenburg, the first secretary of the Royal Society, had for many years carried on a bitter dispute with Robert Hooke, one of the great polymaths of the era whose name still appears to students of physics and biology. Was the root of their quarrel a personality clash, was it over money or property, over love, ego, values? Something simple and recognizable? The precise source of their conflict was none of the above exactly but is nevertheless revealing of a specific early modern English context: They were in dispute, Margaret Willes writes, "over the development of the balance-spring regulator watch mechanism."

Keep reading... Show less
8
Pop Ten
Mixed Media
PM Picks

© 1999-2017 Popmatters.com. All rights reserved.
Popmatters is wholly independently owned and operated.

rating-image