Archive for September 1996

Another dark and moody gem from Drag City. Relying on the very basics works well, her haunting voice mixes with the simple melodies leaving its undeniably emotional mark. Extras are used to great effects, like the heavy echo on "My God Insane" speaking volumes on the subject of distance and loneliness without a word being said; or stretching the musical landscape slightly with faint bell tones and a synthetic drum beat without betraying the minimalist vision. If it had only rained more this summer, this four-song EP would have been perfect accompaniment.

There’s an Edith Frost in your town. Probably more than one. You know, she’s that boho folkie who’s always strumming her guitar shyly in the corner, singing quietly into the hair dangling limply in front of her face. She sounds pretty good if you don’t pay attention. Problem is, when you actually do listen, there’s not much going on.

If a female cross between Skip Spence and Nick Drake could be imagined, the result would be somewhere near the sound of Edith Frost. On this four-song EP, our heroine sets off the melancholy meter with a ghostly combination of her voice and sparse, acoustic guitar. However, this isn’t any sort of insipid Liz Phair / Mary Lou Lord jive-fest that finds the protagonist moaning and whining over poorly played guitar in an attempt for indie-rock cred. Nor does Frost seem to have any sort of tolerance for either folk or country music. As such, these four songs exist in that sort of uncomfortable ether occupied by musicians like Kendra Smith (who is evoked on the echoey "My God Insane") — musicians who make music that sounds ilke, well, music. That its lone musical accompaniment is guitar (except for the weird drum machine on "Waiting Room"), that it’s sung by a woman and that it’s released by Drag City are all irrelevant when it comes to the perfect simplicity of these genre-less songs. They are simply songs, and that, in this day of rampant pigeonhole-over-quality thinking, is a refreshing reminder that there are actually people out there who still care more about the music they play than the description they fit. Simple is good.

Ms. Frost, whomever she may be, gives us a lovely four-song debut, featuring only her voice with guitar accompaniment. Her demeanor strikes the right balance between sensitivity and mystery. "My God Insane" has a distant, eerie beauty that Patsy Cline and Opal (and their progeny) tapped in their haziest moments. Her gorgeously lilting melodies have a lightness of touch that, for me, evokes Donovan, particularly in "Evangeline," where a delicate, interwoven melody is at least twice as intricate as the usual singer-songwriter fare. "Waiting Room" ends things on a particularly enigmatic chord, with her double-tracked vocals playing foil to a ghostly carnival waltz, courtesy of an effective (and non-cheesy) casio.